the still

When Chris later learned that Christopher and Mayank were getting married, he surprised us by offering the space for a wedding before it even fully existed. On the one-year anniversary of our courthouse ceremony, we were invited to walk through the unfinished distillery for the first time — a rare glimpse into something still in progress, full of promise and intention.

Long before this space existed in its current form, it already mattered to us.

Only six weeks after I packed up my life in New York City and moved to Austin, I met someone who would become an unexpected and important presence in my life — Chris Seals. At the time, he and his father were quietly nurturing an idea that didn’t yet look like a sure thing: building a whiskey distillery in Austin, rooted in patience, craftsmanship, and belief in a future that didn’t yet exist. What began as a “feasibility study” slowly became something much deeper — a shared project that strengthened a relationship, required trust, and unfolded only because the timing was finally right.

Years later, that same spirit of belief and persistence would echo in my own life.

Five years after finding my footing in Austin, I met Mayank. What followed was not a simple or linear story. It was shaped by distance, immigration paperwork, waiting, uncertainty, and the slow work of building a life across borders. We learned quickly that love isn’t sustained by momentum alone — it requires steadiness, clarity, and the willingness to keep choosing each other when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

As we fought for the right to stay together, and later for the chance to put down roots of our own — including the long, stressful journey toward buying our home — we came to understand something essential: the most meaningful things in life are rarely rushed. They are built deliberately, tested by pressure, and strengthened over time.

When Chris shared that Still Austin was undergoing a major expansion, it felt full-circle. And when he learned that Mayank and I were getting married, he insisted that we be the very first wedding in the new space — a place that, at the time, existed only as a vision. On the one-year anniversary of our courthouse wedding, we were invited to walk through the unfinished distillery together, standing inside walls that hadn’t yet been completed, imagining what would eventually take shape.

In many ways, that moment captured our story perfectly.

This distillery exists because someone believed in a future they couldn’t yet see, invested time and care into something fragile, and trusted that patience would transform possibility into reality. Our marriage has been built the same way — through commitment, persistence, and faith in what could be, even when the path forward wasn’t clear.

That is why we are here. Not simply because this place is beautiful — but because it reflects the values that brought us to one another, and to all of you. We didn’t arrive here by accident. We arrived through time, trust, and the quiet confidence that some things are worth waiting for.