I opened Akshay’s diary and I leafed through the pages.

The initial pages…

‘This is the third year Akshay. For three years, we have been in love’ Megha said, and continued, ‘I couldn’t have asked for more. You have been a great source of inspiration and help for me. You have been my best friend and you are the reason for shaping my career, my life and my happiness as well….’

The engineering final semester results are out and Megha as well as I passed out with flying colors. Megha always had problems with her studies since the time she’s joined engineering stream.

I was always with her in all walks of life. Life after college. Be it ragging or be it studies or be it extracurricular activities or be it life…

And finally a day after our first year examinations Megha proposed to me, and I accepted her whole heartedly. In fact I always said ‘I dint propose her, neither did she propose me… Love just happened between us’

A few pages later on…

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My name is Amisha, Amisha Bhatnagar. I am 31 years old born and brought up in Mumbai. I have done my PhD. in psychology but currently, I am a housewife. I love painting, music, cooking etc and etc. No. this isn’t an excerpt from my curriculum vitae but an excerpt from my life. An incident that changed my life forever.

I was married to Rohan Bhatnagar for almost seven years. We have a kid who’s three year old. And I am a happy to do house wife, with god’s grace, as I have a loving husband and the apple of my eyes, my small kid.

Born and brought up in Mumbai, I had to travel all this way from the west coast of Arabian to this beach stretch on the Bay of Bengal as my husband is based in Chennai.

Except for the scorching heat of Mr. Helios in the summer, I very much like this place. Classes and masses apart, Chennai reflects a unique blend of cultures and traditions just like Mumbai.

We stay in an apartment near the Besant Nagar beach. And we have made it a habit to take a stroll along the beach every morning. As usual we were sauntering with the wet sand touching our senses, Chinnu (that’s how I address my kid as) came running to me shouting under that childish delight when you find something odd or strange.

“Momma, look what I have found,” he was spoke with the kiddy accent, stressing the ‘m’ from Momma and ‘k’ from look. I embosomed him with my arms and took the odd thing in my hands. It was a bottle, a corked bottle with a letter inside it.

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