A week had gone by since Riya celebrated her birthday. A whole week had gone by since Riya met that old lady. The old lady, who was her grandmother.

The whole scene was still fuzzy in her memories. The celebrations, the shock, the excitement; and then the silence that followed. She could remember a friend of hers running after the old lady. She had expected her to stop the old lady, to bring her back. But that wasn't supposed to happen.

Her friend had returned alone. She mentioned that the old lady had walked to till the crossroads and hailed a rickshaw from there. But she didn't hear the lady speak out her address. Every effort that she made to stop her were in vain. At last, her friend had returned alone.

But what surprised Riya more was the silence of her parents. They weren't ready to share anything about her grandmother. In these seven days, she had tried every way possible to make them talk. She had shed the fake tears, she had put on a puppy face, she had even tried to threaten them of leaving the house. But no. Their resolve was strong.

The only option left with Riya was to go out and search for the lady herself.  She visited nearly ten old age homes since then, but there was no trace of her grandmother. Just the way she had entered her life, she had vanished in a flash too.

After seven days of agony, Riya wished she'd have never met her. She wished she'd have never brought her home. She wished she'd have ended the night at the bus stop itself. She wished and she wished. But there was nothing she could do. The deed was done, and there was no way to change that now.

Though even after those thoughts, Riya hoped she'd have never known that the lady was her grandmother. She'd have loved to remember her just as a stranger. A stranger who had sneaked out to celebrate her hundredth birthday. A stranger who dreamt of dancing with an alien. Yes, a stranger.

But the reality spoke something else. And they were the words which really hurt.

Just as Riya was about to give away all her hope, something happened.

On the eighth day when she opened the door, a small parcel lay, out there. A small yellow gift box, wrapped in a red ribbon, with a little note attached to it. It read,

Greetings,
From your other half.

***

"There are many people in our lives who we wish to remember as just strangers. But the human heart never agrees. We always try to give that little extra layer to relationships. And that's where the problem starts."

***

Just one more update remaining. What do you think is inside that box?