“Road trip?” he asked.

As they left Udaipur the next morning, the sun finally breaking through the clouds, Rohan squeezed her hand.

Rohan, her husband of three years, leaned over their laptop. “The director’s Instagram is inactive. The lead actress changed her name. This thing is cursed.”

Mira plucked a wilted marigold from a nearby temple offering. “Close enough.”

Here is the complete story for Searching For: Wet Hot Indian Wedding Part 3 .

But that, as Mrs. Kapoor would later say, is a story for another monsoon.

Mr. Sharma pulled out a tattered map of the old city. “The wedding in the film—the one that got interrupted by the flash flood—it was filmed at a real haveli. The owner, a retired filmmaker named Mrs. Kapoor, has the only working DVD player that can read the disc. Find her. She’ll only play it for couples who survive the ‘Monsoon Mandap Quest.’”

“It’s like the universe is punishing us for binge-watching trash at 2 AM,” Mira muttered, refreshing a dead link for the hundredth time.

No. There was not.

Mira kissed him, rain and all.