I have received this story from one of the readers. Full credit goes to her. ___________ The scent of jasmine and sandalwood, a constant hum in their sprawling bungalow, usually signalled peaceful mornings. Not today. Today, the air crackled with Anjali’s latest brainstorm, a mischievous gleam in her eyes that promised either utter delight or total chaos. Arjun, perched on the edge of the plush sofa, a half-eaten dosa growing cold in his hand, watched her, his own morning calm rapidly dissolving. Anjali, a whirlwind of vibrant kurtis and restless energy, had been glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen, a low murmur of “Oh my god, Arjun, you have to see this!” escaping her lips for the past ten minutes. “Seriously, Anjali, what is it?” Arjun finally asked, his voice a gentle rumble, a stark contrast to her bubbly enthusiasm. He loved her adventurous spirit, truly, but sometimes her ideas veered wildly into the territory of the absurd. She spun around, holding the phone...