The day after their lakeside confession, Tara woke to a soft, golden light pouring through the window. For the first time in years, the air inside the Veer Estate felt different—not just warm from the morning sun, but alive, as if the walls themselves had heard the promises whispered the night before.
Veer was already awake, sitting by the window with a book in his hand. Or at least, he was pretending to read. His eyes kept drifting from the pages to Tara, his gaze carrying the quiet wonder of someone still trying to believe the person they loved was truly beside them.
"You're staring," she murmured sleepily.
"You're imagining it," he replied without looking away.
She pushed herself up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and smiled. "If you're going to watch me sleep, at least admit it."
He finally closed the book. "Fine. I was watching. You looked… peaceful. And I wanted to remember it."
Tara tilted her head. "Remember it for when?"
"For the days when I'm buried under work… or when you're too busy bossing me around to smile at me," he teased, though his voice softened. "Some moments are worth keeping close."
The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. A servant entered, carrying a small tray with an envelope sealed in gold wax. Veer took it, scanned the elegant handwriting, and raised an eyebrow.
"It's from the mayor," he explained. "Apparently, tonight is the Lantern Festival in the city. He wants us to attend as 'honored guests.'"
Tara's eyes lit up. She had heard of the festival—thousands of paper lanterns drifting into the night sky, each carrying wishes and hopes. "We're going," she said instantly.
Veer hesitated. Crowds were still something he was learning to face again after years of hiding away, but the look in her eyes left no room for refusal. "All right. We'll go."
That evening, the city streets were alive with color. Stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from spiced tea to tiny handcrafted charms. Musicians played on corners, their lively tunes mingling with the chatter of families and couples. Children darted past, holding painted paper lanterns almost as big as their heads.
Tara slipped her hand into Veer's as they walked. She could feel the slight tension in his grip, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he let her guide him through the crowd, her warmth anchoring him in the chaos.
"You're doing well," she whispered.
"I'm trying," he admitted. "Mostly because you're here."
They stopped at a stall where an old woman was selling lanterns in every shade imaginable—crimson, gold, sky blue, and soft lavender. Tara chose two: one deep blue like the lake where they had spoken their hearts, and another in a warm golden hue.
The woman handed them delicate ink brushes. "Write your wishes," she said with a knowing smile. "The sky listens on nights like this."
Tara bent over her lantern, her brush gliding across the paper. She didn't write about wealth or fame, only about keeping the love between them alive no matter what storms came.
Veer, on the other hand, stared at the blank surface of his lantern for a long moment before writing a single, quiet wish: May she always choose to stay.
When it was time, the crowd gathered by the riverbank, each holding their lantern high. A signal was given, and hundreds of glowing orbs lifted into the night, drifting higher and higher until they looked like a river of stars flowing through the dark.
Tara's breath caught. "It's beautiful."
Veer didn't look at the sky. He looked at her. "It is."
They found a quiet balcony overlooking the festival. From there, the music was softer, and the lanterns seemed to float almost within reach. Veer leaned against the railing, his arm brushing hers.
"You know," he said, "I never thought I'd be here again—out in the world, standing with you, feeling… free."
"You were always meant to find this again," Tara replied. "And if you forget, I'll remind you."
He smiled faintly, his gaze dipping to her lips. "Careful, Tara Bowman. If you keep talking like that, I might think you're falling in love with me."
She arched an eyebrow. "You already know I am."
The night air cooled as the festival began to quiet, but they stayed, neither wanting to break the spell. When they finally returned to the estate, Veer paused at the door and took her hand again.
"Tonight was perfect," he said softly. "Because you were in it."
Tara squeezed his fingers. "Then let's make sure tomorrow is, too."
And for the first time in years, Veer believed it was possible.