So, to my Neha, if you’re reading this (and you probably are, because you’re my biggest fan and my harshest critic): Thank you for being the plot twist I never saw coming and the happy ending I get to wake up to every single morning.
Our relationship isn't a Bollywood movie (though Neha would argue there are a few musical numbers in the kitchen). It isn't a fairy tale. It’s better. It’s a living, breathing novel where the chapters are written in grocery lists, late-night whispers, and the geography of how we fit together on a couch. So, to my Neha, if you’re reading this
Last month, I had a project fail. I came home feeling like a ghost. Neha didn’t try to fix it. She didn’t offer solutions. She simply put her head in my lap, looked up at me, and said, “Okay, tell me the worst part. And then we’ll order pizza.” It’s better
Finally, as the sun began to set and she turned to me, her face lit by the golden hour, she said, “You’re being weird. Are you okay?” I came home feeling like a ghost
Disclaimer: My wife, Neha, has informed me that she will be commenting about the dishes. And also about the time I left the milk out overnight. Some storylines never end.