He hadn’t forgotten. He simply thought she had.

She had forgotten this conversation entirely. But the universe remembers. Two days before the promotion party at their home in Velachery, Nandhini went on a spree.

He opened it.

After everyone left, Nandhini brought out a small wooden box. She didn't wrap it in glittering paper. She wrapped it in a piece of her old silk saree blouse piece—red and gold.

Her mother, a typical Tamil mother living in Alwarpet, called immediately. “Nandhini! Promotion-aa? Semma. But let me tell you, don’t buy a mixie or a tawa. He isn’t a cook. Buy something that shows status. Something heavy.”

On their first wedding anniversary, Arjun and Nandhini were walking near the Elliot’s Beach (Besant Nagar). They saw a street vendor selling cheap, leather-bound journals. Arjun picked one up. He was a junior developer then, earning very little.