It was a Wednesday autumn, ordinary in every way, until the doorbell chimed and changed everything. Naila, perched on the lounge with a book, gave a conservative regard at Arjun. “ Who could it be? ” she murmured. Arjun signed. “ Another mug? Another shrine? Another philosophical quotation about marriage? ” They opened the door to find the delivery man holding a package that defied description. It was enormous, wrapped in glittery paper that ever managed to look both gleeful and intimidating. There was a note attached, scribbled in dramatic handwriting For the couple who has survived all differently, a gift good of legend. Naila and