**6:30 p.m. – Yamuna Riverside Villa**
The dining hall glowed under a chandelier made of 108 tiny brass lotuses.
Rajesh had pushed the teak table to the center, laid banana leaves instead of plates, and lit earthen diyas along the windowsill.
The air carried cardamom, ghee, and something ancient—like a promise kept after ten thousand years.
**Menu (all cooked by Rajesh):**
- **Saffron pulao** with star-anise buried like hidden wishes.
- **Malabar fish curry** in coconut milk, mild enough for Priya.
- **Paneer butter masala** shaped into tiny lotuses.
- **Appams** so lacy they looked embroidered.
- **Rose kheer** in clay kulhars, topped with crushed pistachio.
Priya sat on a booster throne, wearing her butterfly crown (construction paper, glitter, and one real morpho wing that refused to fade).
Anjali sat opposite Rajesh, still in her travel-worn saree, eyes red-rimmed but soft.
Little Sheru had a mini banana leaf in front of him, tail wagging like a metronome.
---
### 7:00 p.m. – The First Bite
Rajesh served Priya first.
She took a spoonful of kheer, eyes widening.
"Mummy, taste! It's like clouds melted!"
Anjali took the spoon Rajesh offered.
The rose flavor bloomed on her tongue (sweet, warm, and impossibly nostalgic).
She looked at him. "You learned to cook?"
"I had time," he said quietly. "A lot of time."
Priya tugged Anjali's pallu. "Papa makes dosa shapes! Yesterday, a peacock!"
Anjali's laugh cracked. "Show me tomorrow?"
Rajesh nodded. "Every morning. If you stay."
---
### 7:20 p.m. – The Conversation
Between bites, the story unfolded in pieces.
**Anjali:** "Mumbai was drowning. Literally. The set collapsed. I stood in knee-deep water and realized… I hadn't seen Priya in 47 days."
**Rajesh:** "I counted every second of those 47 days. Ten thousand years in another place, but those 47 hurt more."
**Priya (mouth full):** "Papa says time is like a rubber band. Stretch it, and it snaps back to family."
Anjali's eyes filled.
She reached across the table, fingers brushing Rajesh's.
"I'm sorry I left her with you when you were… broken."
"I was never broken," Rajesh said. "Just lost. You gave me the map home."
---
### 7:45 p.m. – The Gift
Rajesh disappeared into the kitchen, returned with a small wooden box.
Inside: a **silver anklet** for Priya, engraved with tiny lotuses.
And for Anjali—a **simple gold band**, plain except for one etched line:
*"For the 47 days, and every day after."*
He knelt.
"Marry me. Again. Properly this time. No drunken pub, no family pressure. Just us."
Anjali stared.
Priya clapped sticky hands. "Say yes, Mummy! Papa made the ring with kitchen fire!"
Anjali laughed through tears.
"Yes. But only if you promise burnt rotis on Sundays."
Rajesh slipped the ring on.
It fit perfectly (of course it did).
---
### 8:15 p.m. – Dessert & Fireworks
They moved to the terrace.
Rajesh clapped once.
The sky above the Yamuna ignited—**silent fireworks** shaped like lotuses, peacocks, and tiny stick-figure families holding hands.
No sound. Just light.
Priya gasped. "Papa, you caught the stars!"
Anjali leaned into him.
Little Sheru sneezed a spark that joined the display, becoming a golden pug mid-leap.
---
### 9:00 p.m. – Bedtime
Rajesh carried a sleepy Priya to her room.
Anjali followed, anklet chiming softly.
They tucked her in together.
Priya murmured, "Mummy staying?"
Anjali kissed her forehead. "Forever, beta."
Lights dimmed.
The villa's system whispered:
"Family mode: engaged. Lullaby: *Lalla Lalla Lori*."
---
### 10:00 p.m. – The Terrace, Again
Rajesh and Anjali stood under the banyan, diyas flickering below.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Tomorrow, I call my parents. Tell them their runaway daughter is getting married. Again."
Rajesh smiled. "I'll call mine. Tell them their useless son finally grew up."
Somewhere, the Yamuna flowed on, carrying lotus petals toward the sea.
Little Sheru curled at their feet, dreaming of tiger-sized adventures in Pug form.
Rajesh whispered, "Day 15.
No apocalypses.
Just a proposal, a yes, and burnt rotis in our future."
Anjali laughed. "Best cultivation path ever."