The hum of the private jet's engines was a low, steady drone that filled the warm cabin — a stark contrast to the crisp mountain silence they had left behind in Manali. Outside the oval windows, the night was an endless stretch of dark ink, punctuated occasionally by the distant, twinkling lights of North Indian towns passing far below. Inside, the atmosphere was a quiet mix of post-wedding exhaustion and the heavy emotional residue of everything the day had held.

In the plush leather seating area, Kritika sat curled tightly into herself.