The golden sun dipped slowly behind the horizon, casting a honeyed hue over the sprawling Verma Haveli — now glowing like a palace born from dreams.

Strings of marigold and jasmine swayed in the soft evening breeze, each petal brushing against the next as if whispering blessings. Lanterns flickered along the balconies, their golden light blending with the faint smoke of incense that curled upward like soft prayers. The sweet scent of mogra mingled with rosewater and sandalwood, and somewhere, the shehnai played — low and hauntingly beautiful — like a promise kept after years of waiting.