Se-Ri's POV
There are two kinds of cocktail parties in my family: the charming kind — where cousins flirt across cheese platters and aunties drink too much wine and forget they're judging your life choices — and the curated kind, where image is everything and emotions are treated like poor taste.
This one was both.
The chandeliers in the great hall glowed soft gold. Champagne shimmered. Jazz played somewhere in the background, trying to make itself heard over overlapping conversations in four languages. The floral arrangements were taller than most of the uncles.
I paused at the top of the staircase, scanning the crowd.
My dress was on the sharper side of elegant — deep navy silk, asymmetric neckline, a single diamond drop earring. Clean. Unapologetic. The kind of look that said: I don't want your attention, but I'll take it anyway.
I descended slowly. Measured steps. Chin high. Neutral expression.
And still, I felt him before I saw him.
Leo Wu.
Leaning near a marble column. Black suit. No tie. Hair pushed back with surgical precision. He wasn't talking. He didn't need to. He had that stillness — the kind that made you look twice even if you didn't want to.
Our eyes met for half a second.
He smiled — just barely.
And looked away.
Rhea appeared beside me, radiant and buzzing with attention. Her lehenga glittered like it had opinions.
"Don't tell me you're still mad at me for making you pick him up."
"I'm not mad," I said. "Just... overwhelmed by something unexpected."
She narrowed her eyes. "What?"
Before I could answer, Rajveer called her over to introduce her to someone's second cousin from Ludhiana who was apparently a very big deal.
I considered slipping away quietly.
Then a hand tapped my arm.
"Ren," I said, turning. "Do you need something?"
He smiled sheepishly. "You're the only person I know here besides Rhea and Amisha. They've both disappeared into their respective love bubbles. Have you seen my brother?"
I pointed. "Behind the pillar. Standard position."
Ren ducked behind me. "Please don't let him spot me."
"Want to sneak out?"
"Absolutely."
"Same."
We were just about to vanish when my Chachu — Rhea's father — clinked a spoon against his glass with the confidence of a man genetically engineered to make speeches.
The jazz dropped. Conversations hushed. Heads turned.
"Before we forget why we're all here," he declared — part sentimental, part showman — "a few words about my daughter. My brilliant, dramatic, terrifying daughter."
Rhea fake-sobbed in the middle of the room. Someone handed her a tissue wrapped in gold foil.
"She was born screaming," Chachu continued. "And she hasn't stopped since."
Laughter.
"But she's the glue that holds this entire family together. Always has been. Ever since her school principal called to say she'd reorganized the PTA budget because — quote — 'the numbers were aesthetically offensive.'"
More laughter. Rhea curtsied. Uncles clapped. Champagne flowed.
Then came my Bua. My Dadi. Amisha — whose speech was 60% inside jokes, 30% sparkly distraction, and 10% thinly veiled roasts of me, including a jab at the morning incident that made Ren snort beside me.
I smiled like I was fine.
And quietly plotted revenge.
By the time the final toast ended, my face ached from smiling, and my blood was starting to fizz.
Ren had vanished.
And then — as if summoned by perfect dramatic timing — Rajveer appeared at my elbow, all charm and tailored smugness.
"Surviving the speeches?" he asked.
"Barely. That... thing," I said, nodding toward Amisha, "is vicious."
"She had to mention the Leo thing," he teased. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have known you have a crush on my friend."
I froze mid-sip. "No! I do not. He's just... good looking. That's it. That's all."
Rajveer smirked. "Right."
"Anyway, your friend is also vicious. Just... quieter about it."
I turned to walk away — flustered, betrayed by my own voice — and walked straight into a chest.
Leo.
Of course.
He looked down at me, calm as always. I backed up a step and returned to Rajveer's side like I meant to.
Leo slid in beside him, silent and composed.
"I didn't know you were a fan of large, chaotic Punjabi families," I said, trying to salvage dignity.
Rajveer grinned. "I'm not. I'm a fan of one member of this family in particular."
He looked toward Rhea like she'd personally invented sunlight.
Leo didn't reply. But his eyes flicked from Rajveer to me — not judgmental. Just... aware. Like he was measuring something. Or noting what I hadn't said.
Earlier in the evening, Rajveer had casually suggested Leo stay longer in Canada — said it would help with the new branch of his company.
But the way he said it... I heard something else in the subtext.
Something not entirely professional.
The night dragged on after that — glittering, loud, quietly exhausting.
I wasn't thriving.
I was surviving.
And then, just when I thought I could finally disappear into my dessert — Rhea struck.
She climbed onto a dining chair, glass in hand, eyes sparkling like she'd just invented chaos.
"Okay!" she called out. "Attention, siblings, cousins, and beloved chaos goblins!"
The room shifted. Conversations paused. A flute of champagne shattered behind the dessert table.
"You've survived speeches, fashion emergencies, and my mother's third seating chart," she grinned. "So tomorrow... you've earned a reward."
Oh no.
"A surprise siblings-only escape!" she declared. "One night. No planners. No parents. No rules."
Gasps. Cheers. Amisha screamed. Someone asked if there'd be cell reception.
"Glacier Ridge Chalet," Rhea continued. "Hot springs. Fire pits. Bad decisions encouraged. Vans leave at 10 a.m. sharp. Bring waterproof shoes... and an emotionally available attitude."
I blinked. Slowly. Once.
Of course.
Because what this wedding really needed was a detour into the woods — no exits, no signal — and Leo Wu.
I didn't look at him. I didn't need to.
I could already feel him looking at me.
And just like that, I knew:
Tomorrow was going to be worse.