On January 19, 2025, the church glowed with morning light as Sona walked toward Nobin in her elegant white gown, its delicate lace sleeves brushing the rose petals scattered by flower girls. Nobin stood solemnly in his tailored black suit, his nervous smile softening when their eyes met. This was no grand spectacle—just a heartfelt Malayali Christian wedding where you could hear the rustle of silk saris as aunties leaned forward to watch the priest place the minnu around Sona’s neck, the gold pendant catching the light.

The simple moments told the real story: Sona’s shaky hands when exchanging rings, the way Nobin discreetly steadied her fingers during the vows. No dramatic kiss—just their foreheads pressed together after the final prayer, their quiet joy mirrored in the faces of grandparents in the front pews. Outside, sunlight dappled through the trees as guests showered them with rice, the scent of upcoming wedding breakfast (yes, everyone could already smell the beef curry) mixing with the jasmine in Sona’s braid. Every detail—from the crumpled hymn sheets to Nobin’s suit jacket now dotted with tear stains from emotional relatives—spoke of love rooted in tradition, not performance.