"Stop fidgeting," Tyler muttered, tightening the knot with a sharp tug. His voice carried a mix of exasperation and concern. Dylan's pale face reflected in the mirror, eyes wide and unfocused.

"I'm trying," Dylan replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the crisp fabric of his white shirt rustling with the movement. He felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, his nerves a relentless tide crashing against the shores of his resolve.

Tyler, sensing the imminent disaster, grabbed an empty fruit basket from the dresser. It had been repurposed as an ashtray, the faint scent of tobacco mingling with the aroma of pine and old wood that permeated the cottage. He thrust it against Dylan's chest with a stern look. "Don't you dare puke on that suit. It cost eight hundred dollars to rent."

Dylan managed a weak nod, clutching the basket like a lifeline. His mind was a whirlpool of doubts and fears, each thought pulling him deeper into a vortex of uncertainty. He worried incessantly about the ceremony, whether it would honor her Indian heritage adequately, whether the details had been right, whether she might change her mind at the last moment. The weight of the impending vows pressed heavily on his chest.

Tyler stepped back, examining his work with a critical eye. "You're overthinking it, Dylan. Everything's going to be fine." His voice was firm, a steadying anchor in the chaos of Dylan's thoughts. He gave Dylan a sharp jab in the side, a physical reminder to stay present.

Dylan winced, but the pain grounded him momentarily. "What if she hates it? What if she decides she doesn't want to go through with it?"

Tyler rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. Emma, sensing the rising tension, approached him. Her hand was warm as she placed it gently on his shoulder. "Dylan, breathe," she murmured, her voice soothing and steady. "It's beautiful. She'll love it."

Dylan exhaled slowly, the mist from his breath mingling with the frosty air. Normally, the presence of so many people would have made him uneasy, but today, surrounded by his closest friends, he felt an unexpected comfort. His chosen family, consisting of school and college friends, had gathered to support him on this momentous day. The absence of his biological family, though a persistent ache, was overshadowed by the warmth and camaraderie that enveloped him now. "Everything's on schedule, buddy," he said, clapping Dylan on the back. "The last guests have arrived, and the officiant is ready. All we need now are you and Aliya."

"The rings!" he exclaimed, frantically patting his pockets, the sound of his hands slapping against the fabric breaking the stillness.

At that precise moment, the door creaked open. Sheila entered the room, her timing impeccable as always. She held a small, velvety box in her hands. A knowing smile played on her lips as she approached Dylan.

"Looking for these?" she asked, holding the box out towards him.

Dylan managed a weak chuckle, the sound more a release of pent-up anxiety than genuine amusement. "Sheila, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sheila winked at him. "Just doing my part to keep the groom sane," she teased. "And by the way, Aliya looks absolutely stunning in her white saree and mesh veil. I might be a little jealous—I had the biggest crush on you back in senior year, you know."

Dylan's laugh this time was more genuine, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. "Well, I guess I missed my chance," he joked, though his mind was already drifting back to thoughts of Aliya.

Tyler took the ring box from Dylan with a grin. "Don't worry, I've got it safe and sound," he said, slipping the box into his pocket.

Emma gave him an approving nod. "Good. Now, Dylan, take a deep breath. Everything is going to be perfect."

Dylan inhaled deeply, the scent of the firewood and pine filling his lungs. "A knock at the door drew their attention. Tyler's girlfriend entered, her pregnant belly leading the way. 'It's almost time,' she said gently, a serene assurance in her tone.

Dylan took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him once more. This time, however, it was a different kind of weight—a profound, beautiful one that filled his chest with both anticipation and tenderness. Tyler's warm hand rested on his shoulder. "Breathe, Dylan," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. "Everything's perfect."

The hall was adorned with winter's touch—a gentle, ethereal glow from the string lights that mimicked the twinkling of stars, and garlands of evergreen that lent a fresh, piney scent to the air. Snow lightly dusted the windowsills, enhancing the coziness of the scene inside.

As they reached the base of the stairs and turned towards the wedding venue, the aisle beckoned. Dylan moved to the stage, standing beside Tyler, who offered him a steadying smile. Emma, Sheila, Poppy—Tyler's girlfriend—and Rob were already there, their faces beaming with shared joy and expectation.

Dylan's heart swelled at the sight of them. He wanted Aliya to have as many of her kin in attendance as possible, to surround her with love and family on this day. There was nothing more important to him than giving her the wedding she had always dreamed of.

The music faded, leaving a brief moment of anticipatory silence. The pianist's fingers hovered over the keys before the first notes of heartfelt melody filled the room—a piano rendition of the popular Hindi song "Soniyo." It was the signal for the bride's entry.

The soft, melodious strains of the piano created a hushed reverence among the guests. Dylan's eyes were fixed on the end of the aisle. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, the sound reverberating through the small, stone-walled chapel. In that breathless moment, all eyes turned towards the entrance, and there, framed by the doorway, stood Aliya.

She took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill her lungs and the subtle scent of pine from the garlands. She saw Dylan standing at the altar, his eyes misty with emotion. He looked at her with a mixture of longing and vulnerability that twisted something deep inside her. His black suit was a stark contrast to the soft ivory of her saree, and his hands, nervously clasped together, betrayed the tension he felt. She could see the faint tremor in his fingers. She knew, in that moment, that she would never love anyone as much as she loved him. The realization was a warmth in the cold.

She was a vision against the wintry backdrop, the frost-kissed garden visible through the windows behind her. Her ready-made white saree, delicately embroidered with ektaar, shimmered softly. It was a simple, yet elegant garment, its translucent fabric catching the glow and giving her an ethereal appearance. The blouse, with its modest half sleeves, clung to her slender frame, accentuating her graceful silhouette. Around her neck, she wore a delicate necklace of white gold, matching the intricately embroidered veil that draped over her dark, wavy hair.

Aliya held her father Mahindra's arm tightly, the slight tremor in her hand betraying her nervousness. The soft rustling of her saree accompanied their slow, measured steps, blending with the quiet murmur of their gathered friends and family.

Mahindra walked with a steady grace, his proud eyes glistening with unshed tears. He glanced at Aliya, his expression a tender mix of pride and emotion, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Her three cousin sisters trailed behind them, their footsteps light and rhythmic, the sequins on their dresses shimmering like frost in the firelight.

Aliya's heart raced as the piano played softly. As they moved forward, she caught glimpses of familiar, smiling faces.

Dylan stood at the altar, his posture slightly tense, eyes fixed on Aliya with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat resonating with the significance of what was about to happen. Their eyes met and held, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. He saw her nerves, her excitement, her love—all mirrored in his own.

Thema, Aliya's bridesmaid and dearest friend, leaned in and whispered something comforting, taking the bouquet from Aliya's trembling hands. The flowers, a beautiful mix of white roses and deep red holly berries, were as striking as the winter landscape outside. Mahindra gently led Aliya up the few steps to the platform, his presence a steadying force.

The moment Aliya reached Dylan's side, she felt a strange calm settle over her, like the hush that follows a snowfall. He took her hands in his, the warmth of his touch grounding her. For a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, standing on the brink of a new chapter together.

The officiant's voice, warm and gentle, broke through the quiet, drawing them back into the present. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." The words flowed over them.

"Do you take Aliya Dey as your wife?" the officiant asked, his voice resonating softly through the intimate space.

Dylan looked at Aliya, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, reflecting the soft light like the first stars of evening. He swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in his chest, a mixture of overwhelming joy and profound reverence.

"I do," he said, his voice steady but threaded with emotion.

Aliya's eyes met his, and he could see the same blend of feelings mirrored there. As they began to speak their vows, their voices trembled with the weight of their promises. Dylan's deep voice was steady yet laced with the vulnerability of the moment. "Aliya, I was drawn to you from the day we met. Your warm and inviting eyes and your magnetic smile softened my façade immediately. I remember wanting to have, and sometimes make, reasons to talk to you. I almost ordered the same coffee every day just so you would ask me something, anything, and I could hear your voice."

Aliya laughed softly, the sound like a bell, clear and joyous. She squeezed his hands, her own fingers cold against his warmth. "I remember," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "You always ordered black coffee, and I thought you were the most serious person I'd ever met. But then you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds."

Dylan's lips curved into a smile at the memory, and he continued. "You have a way of making everything brighter, Aliya. I promise to support you, to stand by your side through every season of our lives, just as we are standing here today in winter's embrace."

Aliya took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Dylan's. "Dylan, when I first met you, I thought you were a mystery I wanted to unravel. Every conversation we had, every moment we shared, I felt like I was discovering a new part of you. You are my safe harbor, my confidant, my best friend. I promise to cherish you, to laugh with you in joy and comfort you in sorrow. I will love you not just for who you are today, but for who you will become, as we grow together."

Her words hung in the air, delicate and profound. Dylan felt a tear slip down his cheek, quickly brushed away by Aliya's gentle hand. The officiant's voice broke the spell, leading them through the final words of their vows.

Tyler, standing beside Dylan, fumbled momentarily with the small, delicate ring before passing it to him. It glinted under the twinkling fairy lights that draped from the rafters, casting tiny reflections that danced across the faces of those present. "With this ring," Dylan said, his voice steady but thick with emotion, sliding the band onto Aliya's slender, trembling finger, "I give you my heart, my soul, and all my tomorrows."

Aliya's fingers, delicate and shaking, took the ring from the officiant's cushion. Her gaze met Dylan's, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, their deep brown depths mirroring the warmth of the fire crackling in the stone hearth. "With this ring," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft murmurs of the guests, "I give you my love, my trust, and my forever." As she slipped the ring onto Dylan's finger, the room seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the gentle clinking of their rings meeting.

The officiant, a kindly man with silver hair and a face etched with lines of wisdom and kindness, smiled warmly. His eyes, crinkling at the corners, radiated a genuine joy that seemed to touch everyone in the room. "By the power vested in me," he said, his voice resonant and soothing, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Dylan moved closer to Aliya, his hands cupping her face tenderly. Their breath mingled in the cold air as he leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that felt like a promise made tangible. The guests erupted in applause.

She pulled out a small, ornate box, its surface gleaming in the muted light. Opening it with care, she revealed the sindur, its rich, vermilion hue stark against the pale, wintry backdrop. Her fingers, steady despite the cold, dipped into the box, the color vivid against her fair skin.

"Fill up my hair partition and marry me like an Indian," she said, laughter dancing in her eyes, her voice carrying a mix of solemnity and joy. Dylan's fingers trembled slightly as he took the box, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and reverence. He dipped his fingers into the sindur, feeling its fine texture, and carefully filled the part in Aliya's hair, the vibrant color contrasting beautifully with her dark tresses.

..................................

Their wedding reception unfolded like a scene from a dream, each detail meticulously curated to create an atmosphere of unrestrained joy. The ballroom was bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers, casting golden hues over the elegantly adorned tables where guests mingled and laughed, their faces illuminated by the gentle light.

Clusters of people stood around, glasses of wine in hand, the deep burgundy liquid catching the light as they toasted to love and happiness. In one corner of the room, Dylan and Aliya stood close together, their faces flushed with the exertion and exhilaration of dancing. For the past forty minutes, they had moved as one, lost in the rhythm of the music and each other's presence.

Tyler crept up behind Aliya and Dylan, his footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor. "What in the hells are you two still doing here?" he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. "Surely there are... other things... you'd rather be doing right now." The sly curl of his lips was positively devilish, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Aliya turned to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke through gently gritted teeth. "It would be rude to abandon our guests, Tyler." Her voice was calm, but the tension in her posture betrayed her true desire to run out the door with Dylan.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Darling," Thema drawled suddenly, appearing beside Tyler with an air of playful elegance, "you can fool everyone else, but I know where your mind wanders." Thema reached her arm around Aliya's shoulder, her fingers cool and gentle as they grasped Aliya's chin from behind, angling her gaze directly at Dylan.

"Look at that face, and tell me you're actually thinking about your guests," Thema said softly, her voice a melodic whisper. Aliya's breath hitched slightly as she locked eyes with Dylan, his darkened gaze making no effort to hide the desire simmering just beneath the surface. He looked at her as though she were the only person in the room, the only person in the world.

Tyler smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained laughter. "Go on... trust me, man, we'll have no trouble enjoying the rest of this fabulous party without you two." He gave Dylan a conspiratorial wink, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air.

....................................................

Dylan scooped Aliya into his arms. Her arms twined around his neck as he carried her to their bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. The room was a heaven of romance, with fragrant red roses and flickering candles casting a warm glow.

"Aliya," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "you've made me the happiest man alive today. I hope you know that."

Aliya's eyes sparkled with love as she pulled him closer, their faces inches apart. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, filled with passion and promise. Dylan's hand traced the curve of her side, his touch light and reverent. As his fingers caressed her breast, Aliya's breath hitched, and a soft sigh escaped her lips, mingling with the quiet crackle of the candles.

Aliya's fingers tangled in Dylan's hair, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. His hand moved with a slow, deliberate grace, savoring every moment of their connection. She arched her back slightly, pressing against him, her heartbeat quickening in response to his touch.

Dylan pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze filled with love and a hint of awe. "You're everything to me, Aliya," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I can't imagine my life without you."

Dylan's fingers moved with deliberate slowness as he pulled at the edge of her saree, letting it slip effortlessly from her shoulder. The fabric cascaded down, revealing the elegant curve of her collarbone and the gentle swell of her cleavage. Her skin glowed in the soft light, a warm blush spreading across her chest. She smiled, a blend of shyness and anticipation dancing in her eyes.

He leaned in, the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin as he reached behind her, unhooking the delicate clasps of her blouse. The garment fell away, baring more of her to his hungry gaze. His touch was light, almost reverent, as he traced the newly exposed skin, sending shivers through her.

She giggled softly, her hands moving to his shirt. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. As his shirt joined the growing pile of discarded clothes, Dylan pulled her closer, their bare skin finally meeting. The sensation of her soft breast pressing against his firm chest sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel her heartbeat quickening, mirroring the rhythm of his own racing pulse.

His eyes locked onto hers, dark and full of longing. Slowly, he began to pull away, his fingers grazing her skin with a delicate touch. He started at her collarbone, tracing a path downward with deliberate, tender strokes. His touch was feather light, a whisper of sensation that sent shivers down her spine.

As his fingers traveled lower, they found the gentle curve of her breast, lingering for a moment before circling her areola. The sensation made her gasp softly, her body arching slightly in response. He watched her reactions, drinking in every sigh and shudder, each one spurring him on.

With a slow, sensual glide, his hand continued its journey, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused at her navel, drawing lazy circles around it, feeling the tension coiling within her. Her breathing grew more ragged.

Their eyes met again, a silent exchange of desire that spoke volumes. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and fierce, a melding of passion and tenderness. The kiss deepened, a slow and sensual dance of lips and tongues that spoke of unspoken desires. He could taste her longing, feel the heat of her need in every touch. Their breaths mingled, creating a rhythm that was uniquely their own.

His hand moved with a newfound urgency, exploring the expanse of her stomach, tracing patterns that made her skin tingle with anticipation. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to continue.

He shifted, trailing kisses down her jawline, along the graceful curve of her neck. Her soft moans filled the air, a melody that spurred him on. He took his time, savoring the feel of her beneath him, the way her body responded to his every touch.

When he reached the hollow of her throat, he paused, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his lips. He lingered there, pressing gentle kisses to her skin, before continuing his descent. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every curve and contour.

He knew her body like the back of his hand, yet each touch felt like the first. As his fingers traced the curve of her waist, he paused, lifting his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly parted, revealing an expression of pure, unadulterated need. It was a sight that never failed to take his breath away.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he lowered himself, his lips brushing the soft skin just above her hip. Her breath hitched, a small, desperate sound escaping her. His hands moved to her thighs, gently parting them to make way for his exploration. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair, and he couldn't help but smile against her skin, knowing he was driving her wild.

Slowly, he trailed kisses down her inner thigh, his breath warm and tantalizing. Her body trembled beneath him, her hips arching slightly in anticipation. He savored every moment, every reaction, every sigh and moan that fell from her lips. His hands roamed, caressing the soft, sensitive skin, each touch eliciting a shiver of pleasure.

He loved the way her body responded to him, the way she melted under his touch.

AN:// Let me know if the intimate moments are too detailed or needs any enhancment. Anyway I hop you have enjoyed this chapter.