The night had grown softer, darker, but the tension inside L'Esprit de Gigi was hotter than a summer in Marseille.

"Where is she?" Archie asked, practically standing up from his seat for the tenth time. His tie was loosened, his jaw tight, his champagne untouched.

"She needed air," Betty Cooper said firmly, standing in front of him like a bouncer at an underground speakeasy. "And space."

Mindy Chen nodded in solidarity, arms crossed. "You've done enough, Archie. Let her breathe."

Archie sighed. "I just want to talk to her. Just a minute."

"She's crying near the Seine because of you, Archie," Betty snapped. "You called her a narcissist, you dragged Winter Blanco into this like it's an influencer boxing match, and you hijacked the mic with your blood pact monologue."

"I just… I didn't mean for it to go that far," Archie muttered.

"She needs time," Mindy said.

But Archie didn't wait. He slipped past them, a man on a mission, his leather shoes tapping fast against the stone as Betty and Mindy yelled after him:

"Leave her alone, Andrews!"

Too late. He was already gone.

Just a block away, beneath the golden glow of Parisian streetlights, Veronica Lodge sat hunched on a bench beside the River Seine, her back to the world, her eyes puffy, her phone face-down beside her, and her heels kicked off.

The Eiffel Tower shimmered in the distance like a judgmental bridesmaid.

Her breath hitched as she wiped mascara down her cheek with a napkin from her clutch. She was still in her rehearsal gown — wrinkled now — and wrapped in her shawl like it was armor.

"Veronica," came the soft voice from behind her.

She didn't turn. "Go away, Archie."

He approached slowly, sitting beside her. The space between them was filled with more than silence — it held every misstep, every ego bruise, every French champagne they should've cut off after the fourth glass.

"I messed it up," he said first.

"No kidding."

"I shouldn't have said what I said. I shouldn't have let things get so out of control. I just… I thought Kim Petras would be fun. I didn't think it would turn into World War Wedding."

Veronica laughed bitterly. "You thought I wouldn't care if you booked a Grammy-winning diva without telling me?"

He looked down. "Okay, yeah, it was dumb."

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, "I've been a nightmare. I've treated this whole wedding like it was a Broadway production starring me, myself, and I."

Archie didn't argue. He let her speak.

"And Winter Blanco?" Veronica let out a laugh that turned into a sob. "I literally brought a whole human metaphor to make a point about narcissism. That's unhinged."

"Hey," he said gently. "I've done worse. I made my groomsmen do a blood pact to impress Kim Petras."

They both laughed for the first time in what felt like days.

"I'm sorry," Veronica whispered. "For the drama. The champagne tantrums. The mic-yanking. For comparing our relationship to a reality show."

"I'm sorry too. For not listening. For going rogue with the music. For the speech. And the comparison to Kailie Lima."

Veronica snorted. "Okay, that still stung."

Archie smiled. "I love you, Ronnie. Even when you're a little… extra."

"I love you too, Archiekins. Even when you're a walking himbo with a hero complex."

He reached for her hand. She didn't pull away. Her fingers laced through his, her mascara still smudged but her heart starting to realign.

"So," he said. "What do you want to do about the music?"

She hesitated. "Let's keep Kim."

Archie blinked. "Wait—seriously?"

"She's a whole icon. And honestly? Josie and the Pussycats canceled earlier. They double-booked with a fashion week thing in Milan."

"You knew?"

"I didn't want to admit it. My pride was too loud."

He stood up slowly and offered his hand. "Come back inside with me?"

She gave him a look. "Carry me. I'm still wearing these five-inch shoes from hell."

With a smile, he scooped her up bridal-style, walking back toward the glow of the restaurant, her head resting against his shoulder.

As they stepped back inside, all eyes turned to them.

"We're good," Archie announced. "Crisis averted. Bride and groom are back in sync."

"Josie and the Pussycats canceled, so…" Veronica added, straightening in his arms.

Kevin gasped. "What?!"

"So," Archie grinned, "Kim Petras is officially performing at our wedding."

The crowd erupted — champagne glasses clinked, whoops rang out, and even Mindy sighed in relief.

Winter raised her glass from across the room, eyebrow arched. "Now that's the kind of drama I fly across oceans for."

Jessica Davis handed out fresh flutes, Georgia whispered, "Finally," and Ginny took a selfie to commemorate the moment.

And as the waiters brought out crème brûlée, the wedding rehearsal party finally started feeling like a celebration — not a disaster.

Tomorrow would be their big day. But tonight, in the middle of Paris, they'd already survived the real test.

Each other.