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The next morning, for the first time in twenty years, the tea was not made. The shirts were not ironed. Leaving a simple note on the kitchen counter, Monghi packed a single suitcase and boarded the Kutch Express train, heading back to her roots.

Everything changed on the day of their 25th wedding anniversary. The next morning, for the first time in

"I will return, Dharmesh," Monghi said gently, holding a piece of her mirror-work. "But not to the old life. I am no longer just the woman who makes your tea. I am Monghi. If you want me back, you must learn to love the woman I have become, not the shadow I used to be." The next morning