When the Story Continues (Sequel to When the Script Changes)

Epilogue: A Full Circle of Love

The sun painted the sky in gold and blush as it dipped behind the hills, casting the world in the soft, slow glow of magic only dusk can carry. The gentle hum of laughter mingled with the breeze, wrapping around the garden like a lullaby sung by the universe itself.

Years had passed. The world had changed. People had grown, healed, shifted.

But here, beneath the twilight, surrounded by trees blooming with lights and memories, it felt like time had simply... paused. Like the universe was holding its breath for this one perfect moment.

And at the heart of it all stood Pin and Anil.

Hand in hand.

Wife and wife.

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Their wedding had been perfect.

Not because of the grand venue or the expensive details (though, as the daughter of two of the most influential women in the country, Pin had her pick of literally anything she wanted).

Not because of the designer dress Pin wore or the breathtaking ceremony.

It was perfect because it was theirs.

Because the girl who once whispered facts about the French Revolution in her sleep had grown into a woman who now stood beside the love of her life, glowing in a gown of delicate lace and dreams. Because the girl who once stood between her girlfriend and the world with fire in her heart now cried openly as vows were spoken.

It was perfect because it was personal.

Intimate.

Earned.

From awkward library flirting and nervous brush-of-the-hand moments, to all-night study sessions, to living in a tiny shared apartment where they learned how to burn toast and resolve fights without raising their voices.

They had built a life before they ever walked down that aisle.

And now?

They were just sealing it with forever.

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Months Before the Wedding... The Proposal

Anil had planned it for months.

Not for grandeur—no flash mobs, no helicopters, no crowds.

Because that's not who Pin was.

Pin loved moments—quiet ones. Ones steeped in thought and meaning.

So Anil had taken her back. Back to the beginning.

The library. Their library.

The one where they had spent hours studying together. The one where Pin had once fallen asleep on Anil's shoulder, mumbling about historical theories in her sleep.

The one where Anil had first thought—

"I think I'm going to love her forever."

And there, between the bookshelves where their story had begun, Anil had pulled out a small, leather-bound book.

Pin had frowned, flipping through the pages.

And inside?

Every page was filled with moments.

Little notes Anil had written over the years. Quotes from the books Pin loved. Silly doodles.

And then, on the very last page—