On a long delayed flight from Bengaluru to London. Ishita had the aisle seat and a book she was annoyed to be reading; Aditya had the window and a habit of striking up conversations with whoever ended up next to him. We talked for the full eight hours and exchanged numbers in the baggage hall.

We did not want a wedding that felt like an event. We wanted lunch, with the thirty people who matter most, in a city neither of us is from. So: Kyoto, late autumn, a tea ceremony, and a long table by the garden.