Amrit, a Hayes boy, raised on Karahi chicken tikka rolls and blind optimism, somehow matched with Jaya — an Essex girl so effortlessly elegant she probably came out of the womb holding a freshly shucked oyster and a glass of chilled rosé.

He thought she was out of his league. She thought he’d be a fun sociological case study. And yet, against all odds (and her parents’ better judgment), it worked.

Their early days were a blur of fun wine bars, “accidental” bougie brunches, and arguments over who discovered which hidden spot first. These days, romance has evolved into Costco runs, IKEA trips, and intense discussions about bathroom tiles.

Over time, Jaya’s influence began to show. The lad who played five-a-side football now plays tennis, has swapped pints for pinot, and can wax lyrical about the merits of raclette at a piste-side lunch.

Meanwhile, Jaya — ever the picture of refinement — has learned the noble art of pretending not to judge Amrit when he mispronounces “charcuterie” for the fourth time.

Together, they’ve somehow found a middle ground between Hayes grit and Essex gloss — with just enough chaos to keep it interesting.