They chose the city as their witness, and it showed up beautifully. We moved through side streets and open squares, catching pockets of light between glass and brick. A streetcar chimed, someone applauded from a café door, and the wind tried to steal a veil more than once. Downtown gave us its usual challenges—crowds, quick weather, a security guard asking kindly for “one minute only”—but Ekta and Deepak had an easy calm about them. They laughed, reset, and kept choosing each other. That was the rhythm of the day: small interruptions, then a breath, then something true. Their chemistry lived in glances—hands finding each other, shoulders leaning in, a quiet yes beneath the noise.

We stayed close to the Financial District—midday, at its busiest—and let the city be part of the story. Suits hurried past, streetlights blinked, someone called out “congratulations,” and the crowds opened just enough for two people in love. It was romance in the chaos: a hand squeeze at a crosswalk, a laugh that cut through traffic, a quiet breath against a skyline of glass. We didn’t fight the rush; we folded into it, and the day felt exactly like Toronto—alive, unscripted, and beautifully ours.

They chose the city as their witness, and it showed up beautifully. We moved through side streets and open squares, catching pockets of light between glass and brick. A streetcar chimed, someone applauded from a café door, and the wind tried to steal a veil more than once. Downtown gave us its usual challenges—crowds, quick weather, a security guard asking kindly for “one minute only”—but Ekta and Deepak had an easy calm about them. They laughed, reset, and kept choosing each other. That was the rhythm of the day: small interruptions, then a breath, then something true. Their chemistry lived in glances—hands finding each other, shoulders leaning in, a quiet yes beneath the noise.

We stayed close to the Financial District—midday, at its busiest—and let the city be part of the story. Suits hurried past, streetlights blinked, someone called out “congratulations,” and the crowds opened just enough for two people in love. It was romance in the chaos: a hand squeeze at a crosswalk, a laugh that cut through traffic, a quiet breath against a skyline of glass. We didn’t fight the rush; we folded into it, and the day felt exactly like Toronto—alive, unscripted, and beautifully ours.