The morning of our wedding dawns crisp and golden, early February 2026, the Spree a shimmering ribbon under a pale Berlin sky. The air hums with anticipation as I stand in a suite overlooking the water, my gold and crimson lehenga hugging my light brown fair skin, the intricate embroidery a fusion of my heritage and Edward’s world. His leather journal rests on a table, its pages a testament to our journey, and his lamp—now a fixture in our shared penthouse—glows softly nearby. His jacket drapes over a chair, a symbol of the love that’s brought us here. Today, his princess treatment and the nickname “my breath” culminate in vows that bind us forever.