Chapter 1: The Gatekeeper

Rahul stepped into their path just as they reached the bedroom door. His arms stretched wide like some kind of self-appointed guardian, blocking the entrance with his entire body. That grin on his face was absolutely mischievous. Luna recognized it immediately—the same look he'd worn at the reception when he'd convinced Sol's cousin to spike the punch bowl.

"Hold on there, lovebirds," Rahul announced, entirely too loud for the quiet hallway. "Nobody told me we were skipping the ceremonial interrogation."

Sol stopped walking, though his hand remained warm around Luna's. "There's no such ceremony, and you know it."

"I'm inventing it right now." Rahul's grin widened. "Consider it a wedding gift."

Luna felt the heat creeping up her neck already. She'd known Rahul for three years, ever since Sol had introduced them at that disastrous karaoke night where Rahul had sung seventeen verses of some old Bollywood song nobody else knew. He was funny in small doses, but right now she just wanted him to move aside so they could get through the door without her face turning into a tomato.

Rahul leaned forward, dropping his voice to what he probably thought was a whisper but really wasn't. "So, Luna. Big night, huh? Expectations running high? Pressure mounting?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that should've been illegal at weddings.

The blush spread to her cheeks. She looked down at the carpet, trying to find something interesting about its beige pattern.

"Very high expectations," Rahul continued, clearly enjoying himself way too much. "I mean, Sol's been talking about this for months. Months! The planning, the anticipation, the—"

"I have not been talking about it for months," Sol interrupted, though Luna could hear the smile in his voice despite his attempted seriousness.

Rahul turned toward Sol, poking him square in the chest with one finger. "Oh really? What about last Tuesday when you spent forty-five minutes picking out sheets? Forty-five minutes, my friend. I was there. I witnessed the great thread-count debate of 2024."

Luna glanced up at Sol, who had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. She hadn't known about the sheet shopping expedition. The image of Sol standing in some department store, earnestly comparing Egyptian cotton samples while Rahul stood beside him checking his watch, made her want to laugh despite her nervousness.

"Thread count matters," Sol said, defensive now. "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly." Rahul stepped back, gesturing dramatically at the closed bedroom door behind him. "The question is, are you ready for what's on the other side of this door? Are you prepared? Mentally? Physically? Emotionally?"

He delivered each question with increasing theatrical intensity, punctuating them with exaggerated hand movements that nearly knocked over a picture frame on the hallway table.

Sol crossed his arms. "More prepared than you were for your driving test, which you failed twice."

"Three times," Rahul corrected cheerfully. "And we're not talking about my vehicular challenges. We're discussing your wedding night readiness."

"I'm extremely ready."

"Confident words." Rahul stroked his chin like some kind of philosopher considering a difficult theorem. "But confidence and competence are two very different things, my friend."

Luna watched the exchange, feeling her nervousness start to ease despite herself. This was familiar territory—Sol and Rahul could banter for hours about absolutely nothing. She'd seen them argue about pizza toppings for twenty minutes once, both of them completely serious about their positions on pineapple.

Sol leaned against the wall, getting comfortable. "Are you seriously going to stand here and question my competence?"

"It's my sacred duty as your best friend." Rahul placed his hand over his heart. "Who else is going to make sure you don't mess this up?"

"I'm not going to mess anything up."

"That's exactly what someone who's about to mess things up would say." Rahul nodded sagely, as if he'd just revealed some profound truth. "See, this is why we need the interrogation. You're clearly in denial."

"I'm clearly trying to get into my bedroom."

"Our bedroom," Luna added quietly, surprising herself. Both men looked at her, and she felt the blush returning. "I mean, it's our bedroom now. Not just his."

Rahul pointed at her triumphantly. "See? Luna gets it. Partnership. Communication. These are important concepts, Sol. Are you taking notes?"

Sol rolled his eyes, though Luna could see him fighting back a smile. "I don't need notes."

"Everyone needs notes." Rahul was really warming to his role now. "Especially for something this significant. This is a major life event we're talking about. The wedding night! The suhaag raat! The—"

"We know what it's called," Sol interrupted. "We're the ones having it."

"Theoretically having it," Rahul corrected. "Currently, you're standing in a hallway being educated by someone who actually knows what he's talking about."

Sol raised an eyebrow. "You've been married for exactly six months."

"Six months of valuable experience." Rahul puffed out his chest. "I've learned things. Important things. Things they don't teach you in school."

"Like what?"

Rahul paused, clearly not expecting to actually have to provide specifics. Luna watched him flounder for a second before he recovered with typical Rahul flair.

"Like... patience," he announced. "And understanding. And the importance of—" He paused dramatically. "—proper room temperature control."

Sol blinked. "Room temperature control."

"Absolutely crucial," Rahul insisted, fully committed now. "Too hot, and you're both sweating. Too cold, and nobody's comfortable. It's a delicate balance."

"Thank you for that wisdom," Sol said dryly. "Truly life-changing."

"Mock me now, but you'll remember this conversation later." Rahul wagged his finger between them. "Both of you will be lying there, thinking 'you know what, Rahul was right about the temperature thing.'"

Luna couldn't help it—she laughed. Actually laughed out loud, the sound escaping before she could stop it. Both men looked at her again, and this time she didn't look away.

"Sorry," she said, though she wasn't really. "It's just... room temperature? That's your big advice?"

Rahul looked offended. "It's foundational advice. Everything else builds from there."

"Everything else like what?" Sol challenged.

"Like..." Rahul gestured vaguely at the air. "Ambiance. Mood setting. The art of—" He paused, searching for words. "—creating an atmosphere conducive to romance and... other activities."

The way he said 'other activities' with that eyebrow wiggle made Luna's face burn again. She looked back down at the carpet.

Sol stepped forward, moving slightly in front of Luna like he was shielding her from Rahul's increasingly ridiculous commentary. "I think I've got the atmosphere covered."

"Oh really?" Rahul crossed his arms, skeptical. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because I actually planned things instead of just talking about temperature control."

"Planning is good," Rahul conceded. "But execution is what matters. Are you nervous at all? Even a little bit?"

Sol hesitated for just a fraction of a second. Luna felt it more than saw it—the tiniest pause before he answered.

"No," Sol said, but Rahul had already caught the hesitation.

"Aha! There it is!" Rahul pointed accusingly. "You are nervous. I knew it. The great Sol, confident about everything, is actually nervous about his wedding night."

"I'm not nervous," Sol protested, but his voice had lost some of its certainty.

"It's okay to be nervous," Rahul continued, his tone shifting slightly. He sounded almost genuine now, though the grin remained. "It's a big deal. Expectations, pressure, the desire to make everything perfect for—" He glanced at Luna. "—your beautiful new wife who's standing right there listening to everything I'm saying."

Luna wished the carpet would just open up and swallow her whole. This was mortifying. Funny, yes, but also mortifying.

Sol ran his hand through his hair. "Are you done yet?"

"Not even close." Rahul shifted his weight, settling in. "We haven't even gotten to the advice portion of the evening."

"There's more?"

"So much more." Rahul adopted what Luna could only describe as a 'wise sage' posture, straightening his spine and tilting his chin up slightly. "As someone who has successfully navigated these waters, I feel obligated to share my knowledge with those less experienced."

"You've been married six months," Sol repeated.

"Six months longer than you." Rahul raised one finger like a professor making a point. "Which makes me the expert in this conversation."

Luna couldn't tell if Sol was genuinely annoyed or just playing along anymore. Probably both. She'd learned that Sol could hold multiple contradictory emotions at once—irritated with Rahul but also fond of him, embarrassed by the attention but also amused by it.

Rahul cleared his throat ceremoniously. "Lesson one: Communication is key."

"Obviously," Sol muttered.

"Don't interrupt the master." Rahul held up his hand. "Communication means talking about expectations, desires, boundaries—all that important stuff they mention in those books nobody actually reads but everyone pretends they did."

Sol opened his mouth, probably to mention that he had actually read those books, but Rahul kept going.

"Lesson two: Take your time. This isn't a race." He glanced at Luna again with a softer expression. "Make sure you're both comfortable with everything that's happening. Check in with each other. Use your words."

That actually seemed like reasonable advice, Luna thought. Even delivered by Rahul in a hallway at eleven-thirty at night.

"Lesson three," Rahul continued, his theatrical energy returning. "And this is crucial—remember that despite what movies and novels suggest, nobody actually knows what they're doing the first time. Everyone's just figuring it out as they go."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Sol pointed out.

"It's honest though." Rahul shrugged. "Better than pretending you're supposed to have all the answers. You don't. She doesn't. Nobody does. You just... work it out together."

Luna found herself nodding slightly. She wouldn't have expected genuine relationship advice from Rahul's teasing, but there it was, buried under all the jokes and exaggerated hand gestures.

Sol seemed to be processing this too. "Is this actually going somewhere, or are you just going to keep us in this hallway all night?"

"Patience, grasshopper." Rahul waved his hand dismissively. "We're almost to the good part."

"There's a good part?"

"The blessing!" Rahul announced. "Every sacred ceremony needs a blessing."

"I thought you made this whole thing up thirty seconds ago," Luna said, finding her voice again.

Rahul pointed at her approvingly. "See, this is why Sol married you. Smart. Observant. Calls people on their nonsense."

"Are you going to bless us or not?" Sol asked, but Luna could hear the smile in his voice now. He'd given up on getting through the door quickly.

Rahul stepped back, giving himself room for whatever performance he was about to deliver. He stretched his arms out wide again, this time angling them upward like he was invoking some higher power.

"By the authority vested in me by absolutely nobody," he began solemnly, "I hereby bless this marriage and this wedding night."

Sol covered his face with his free hand. Luna felt her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Rahul continued, undeterred. "May your evening be filled with..." He paused for effect. "...adequate temperature control."

Sol groaned.

"May you communicate clearly and often," Rahul went on, really committing to the bit now. His voice had taken on an almost ministerial quality. "May you remember that fumbling is normal and perfection is overrated."

Luna bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud again.

"May you both wake up tomorrow morning still liking each other," Rahul continued, his voice rising. "And may Sol finally stop texting me at two AM asking if I think he's prepared for marriage, because dude, you're already married now, so that ship has sailed."

"I texted you once," Sol protested. "One time."

"It was a very long text," Rahul countered, then resumed his blessing voice. "And most importantly—" He raised his hands higher, fingers spread wide like he was bestowing some great gift. "—may you both relax, enjoy yourselves, and remember that this is supposed to be fun, not a performance review."

He held the pose for a long moment, arms stretched dramatically upward, before finally lowering them with a satisfied expression.

"There," he announced. "You're officially blessed. You may now proceed to your bedroom."

Sol shook his head slowly. "Are you finished? Actually finished this time?"

Rahul considered this. "Yes. I think that covers everything."

"Thank God."

"You're welcome," Rahul corrected. "The phrase you're looking for is 'thank you, Rahul, for your infinite wisdom and generosity.'"

Sol just looked at him.

Rahul grinned again, then stepped aside with an exaggerated sweeping gesture, bowing slightly at the waist like some kind of courtier presenting them to royalty. His arm flourished toward the bedroom door.

"Your chamber awaits, newlyweds," he announced with mock formality. "May you enter with courage and emerge with... well, I'll let you fill in that blank yourselves."

He winked one more time, completely shameless, then turned on his heel and started walking down the hallway. Luna watched him go, his shoulders still shaking with laughter at his own performance. About halfway down the hall, he called back without turning around.

"Temperature control, Sol! Don't forget!"

Sol's response was something between a laugh and a groan. "Get out of here, Rahul."

"Already gone!" Rahul's voice echoed back. "Have fun, kids!"

Then he rounded the corner and disappeared, though Luna could still hear his chuckling fading into the distance.

The hallway suddenly felt very quiet.

Luna stood there, acutely aware of Sol's hand still holding hers. Her palm was probably sweating. Her face definitely still felt warm. The nervous tension that Rahul's comedy routine had temporarily eased started creeping back in, different now but still present.

Sol turned to look at her. His expression had softened completely, all traces of his playful irritation with Rahul gone. He smiled—that tender smile she'd first noticed three years ago at a coffee shop when he'd complimented her choice of book and then spent twenty minutes defending his opinion that historical fiction was underrated.

"Sorry about him," Sol said quietly. "I told him to just say goodnight like a normal person."

"It's okay." Luna found herself smiling back. "He means well. In his own weird way."

"He definitely means something." Sol squeezed her hand gently. "You ready?"

Luna nodded, though 'ready' felt like a complicated word for what she was feeling. Nervous, yes. Excited, also yes. Curious about what Sol had planned, absolutely. All of those emotions tangled together with the reality that this was actually happening—their wedding night, their life together starting properly now.

Sol reached for the door handle, but paused. "If Rahul made you uncomfortable at all—"

"He didn't," Luna interrupted. "I mean, I blushed about seventeen times, but that's just Rahul being Rahul. It was actually kind of nice. Made things feel less..."

"Intense?" Sol offered.

"Yeah." She appreciated that he understood. "Less intense."

Sol nodded slowly. "He's good at that. Diffusing tension through sheer ridiculousness."

"It's a gift," Luna agreed.

They stood there for another moment, just looking at each other in the quiet hallway. Luna could hear distant sounds from downstairs—some of the guests were still around, probably raiding the leftover food and arguing about cricket scores or politics or whatever people argued about at midnight during wedding receptions.

Sol's thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand. "You know we don't have to—"

"I know," Luna said quickly. She did know. They'd talked about this, about expectations and pressure and making sure they were both comfortable. Sol had been careful about that from the beginning, checking in with her, making sure she knew she could change her mind about anything at any time.

But she didn't want to change her mind.

"Okay," Sol said softly. He turned back to the door and opened it slowly, stepping aside so Luna could enter first.

She took a breath and walked forward, crossing the threshold into their bedroom.

The first thing she noticed was the color.

Blue-grey. Everywhere. The walls must have been painted recently because she could still detect the faint chemical smell of fresh paint underneath the scent of jasmine incense burning somewhere. The curtains were blue-grey silk, catching the soft light from the lamps positioned around the room. The bedspread was a slightly darker shade of the same color, with cushions in varying tones arranged against the headboard.

It took her a moment to process what she was seeing. Then it hit her.

Her eyes. He'd matched everything to her eye color.

Luna turned slowly, taking in the details. The throw blanket folded at the foot of the bed—blue-grey. The small rug beside the bed—blue-grey with silver threads woven through it. Even the lampshades had been replaced with ones that cast that particular shade of blue-grey light across the ceiling.

This wasn't just decoration. This was deliberate, careful planning. Sol had thought about this, worked on it, probably spent days coordinating all these different elements to match properly.

She remembered Rahul's comment about the thread-count debate. Sol had spent forty-five minutes picking out these sheets because he was trying to find the exact right shade. Not just blue. Not just grey. That specific blue-grey that matched her eyes.

Luna felt something tighten in her chest. Not anxiety this time, but something warmer. Softer.

The room smelled like jasmine and paint and something else she couldn't identify—maybe the candles she could now see arranged on the dresser, unlit but present. The lighting was low but not dark, comfortable and warm. The curtains were drawn, giving them complete privacy. Everything felt intentional, thought through.

Sol had done all of this. For her. Because he wanted their first night together to feel special, to feel personal, to reflect something about them as a couple.

She heard the door close with a soft click behind her.

Luna turned around. Sol stood by the door, one hand still on the handle, watching her. His expression was careful now, maybe a little uncertain. Waiting to see her reaction.

"You noticed," he said quietly.

Luna nodded. She didn't trust her voice to work properly yet.

Sol stepped away from the door, moving closer but not crowding her. "I wanted you to feel..." He paused, searching for words. "I wanted you to know that I see you. That I pay attention to details about you."

"My eye color," Luna managed to say.

"Your eye color," Sol confirmed. "It took me three tries to explain it to the paint store guy. He kept showing me regular blue or regular grey, and I kept saying no, that's not right. Eventually, I just brought in a photo of you and pointed."

Luna laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "You showed a paint store employee my photo?"

"I showed three paint store employees your photo," Sol corrected. "Different stores. The third guy finally got it right."

She looked around the room again, seeing it differently now. Not just as decoration but as evidence of effort, of Sol going to multiple stores with her picture, trying to match a specific shade that probably seemed insane to everyone except him.

"The sheets really did take forty-five minutes," Sol continued, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Rahul wasn't exaggerating about that part. But I wanted them to be perfect. Soft but not too slippery. The right color. The right weight."

Luna touched the bedspread, feeling the fabric under her fingers. It was soft. Probably expensive. Definitely the exact shade of blue-grey she saw every time she looked in a mirror.

Sol had thought about what would touch her skin tonight. Had considered texture and temperature and color coordination. Had planned all of this while also managing wedding logistics and dealing with his family and everything else that came with getting married.

She turned back to face him. "This is..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't know what word would actually capture what she was feeling.

Sol stepped closer, until he was standing right in front of her. Close enough that she could see the slight nervousness in his own eyes, the way he was watching her face like he was trying to read her reaction.

"Is it too much?" he asked quietly. "I know it's kind of... intense. All the same color. But I wanted tonight to be about us, about you, about—"

Luna reached up and kissed him, cutting off whatever else he was going to say.

His arms came around her immediately, pulling her closer. She felt his surprise in the first second, then his response as he deepened the kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair.

When they finally broke apart, Luna stayed close, her forehead resting against his.

"It's perfect," she whispered. "It's absolutely perfect."

Sol's smile spread slowly across his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Luna pulled back just enough to look into his eyes properly. "Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before."

"Good," Sol said, his voice rougher now. "I want to be the only one who does things like this for you."

His hands were warm on her waist. Luna could feel her heart beating faster, awareness of where they were and what was about to happen settling over her like those blue-grey silk curtains blocking out the rest of the world.

Sol's expression shifted, something heated entering his gaze as he looked at her. His thumb traced along her jawline, gentle but purposeful.

"I love you," he said simply. "I know we said it at the ceremony, and we've said it before, but I wanted to say it again now. Here. Before anything else."

"I love you too," Luna replied, and meant it with everything in her.

Sol leaned down and kissed her again, slower this time. More deliberate. His hands remained respectful on her waist, but Luna could feel the tension in them, the restraint.

They were married now. This was their bedroom. Their night. Everything ahead of them waited in this blue-grey space that smelled like jasmine and fresh paint and new beginnings.