The crisp golden sand cools my feet as I walk along the beach. The water is gushing gently under my feet, sparkling in the sun’s golden light. It’s a little after 6pm; I stand there, the wind blowing through my hair, thinking about what article I should write for the newspaper next week.I have a little column that I write every Sunday. I don’t write about the ordinary stuff. I don’t write about corruption or about fashion or food. I write on “the miracles of life.”

You see, according to me there are no coincidences, only miracles.

It had nearly been a week after they had married with the exchange of the traditional nuptial vows. She was as tired and pale as she had been on the first day they spent together as husband and wife. He thought the lengthy marriage processions and rituals had taken their toll on her. For a minute he even wondered if he had done something atypical to her. But it was something else which was going on in Naya’s mind. The newly married bride was still thinking of Ayan, with whom she had broken up after 15 months of relationship, or 15 months and 8 days to precise, the only guy who had touched her heart in a special way.