The venue was a picturesque “Heritage Resort” on the outskirts of the city.

Artificial lakes.
Immaculate lawns.
White gazebos positioned at mathematically optimized sunset angles.

And a photographer named Rohan who insisted on calling everyone “babe.”

“Okay, babes,” Rohan chirped, crouching slightly to adjust his lens. “I need soul-level chemistry. Aarav, hand on Navya’s waist. Navya, lean into him. Look at the sunset like this is the first day of your forever.”

Navya stiffened.

“I would rather lean on a bed of nails,” she said flatly. “And if he touches my waist without consent, I’m filing a complaint.”

Aarav stood a calculated three feet away, posture rigid.

“The current light temperature is suboptimal for my skin tone,” he said coolly. “Can we just deploy generative AI and composite our faces onto a stock sunset? It would be statistically superior.”

“No AI! Only vibes!” Rohan insisted dramatically, physically nudging them closer.

The moment Aarav’s hand hovered near Navya’s waist, irritation surged through her like voltage.

She discreetly tapped her phone.

During the drive to the resort, she had written a small script targeting the property’s automated irrigation network. The sprinklers were controlled through an unsecured local interface.

“Smile!” Rohan shouted.

Click.

At that precise millisecond, the sprinkler directly behind Aarav activated.

A violent jet of recycled lake water struck him squarely between the shoulders.

Navya covered her mouth, barely suppressing a grin.

“System malfunction,” she murmured.

Aarav stood motionless as water dripped from his linen shirt, soaking into the collar, flattening his hair against his forehead.

He did not shout.

He did not flinch.

He simply looked at her.

Cold. Analytical. Predictive.

“Rohan,” Aarav said evenly, “give me a moment. I need to adjust my fiancée’s… configuration.”

He stepped forward before Navya could retreat.

She attempted to pivot away, but the grass was already slick.

He caught her wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough to prevent her from reaching her phone—and pulled her closer for the next frame.

“If you believe you’re the only one capable of manipulating unsecured IoT infrastructure,” he murmured near her ear, “you’ve underestimated the threat model.”

He didn’t need a phone.

His smartwatch ran a custom kernel with expanded access permissions.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he accessed the resort’s centralized lighting API.

Instantly, the warm golden sunset ambience collapsed into chaos.

The decorative lamps surrounding the lawn began flashing neon pink.

Then blue.

Then violent strobe pulses.

The entire serene aesthetic devolved into what looked like a malfunctioning nightclub simulation.

“What is happening?!” Rohan yelled, shielding his eyes. “My aesthetic! My brand!”

“Unfortunate,” Aarav said calmly, his face inches from Navya’s. “Likely a memory leak in their lighting controller. We should abort.”

“You soaked me!” Navya snapped, trying to step back—only for her heel to slip in the mud.

Her balance faltered.

Aarav caught her by the elbows instinctively.

For a suspended second, they stood locked together in the center of a rain-drenched lawn under violently flashing lights—like two adversaries frozen inside a corrupted rendering engine.

Her breath was uneven.

“So this is your idea of subtle?” she muttered.

“You initiated escalation,” he replied.

She looked up at him, water droplets clinging to her lashes.

“We look like a catastrophic failure.”

“Correct,” he said.

His grip lingered half a second longer than necessary before he released her as if contact itself were a liability.

“Disaster projection successful,” he added coolly. “Ninety percent hate, Kapoor. Maintain ratio discipline.”

Behind them, Rohan was near emotional collapse.
Their mothers were horrified.
The resort manager was running toward the control room.

Phase two: Maximum public incompatibility.

Wedding countdown: 15 days.