She rose from the phosphorescent reef of the internet
not as a profile
but as an event in the fabric of reality
The doctor of wandering minds
who knows where sorrow curls up to sleep
who can touch a thought and change its weather

We talked at strange hours
About psychology, decision making,
Why hearts sign contracts the head never drafted
Her “hi Parthu”
curved through the microphone
like a comet that remembered my name

I was twenty six and unraveled
She was thirty four and planetary
Whole constellations sat in her calm voice
Age turned into confetti, caste turned into dust,
labels fell away like coats in summer

Video calls bloomed
She teased, I laughed
We became a small republic
governed by shared secrets
and the warm tyranny of curiosity

Chennai finally happened
The sea opened itself like a long-held breath
We walked where the waves kept clapping for us
Music in our ears
City lights in our pockets

Italian restaurant after
Words dipped in olive oil
Laughter that leaned across the table
Then the yellow hotel
glowing like a mango in moonlight

The night expanded
Kisses like comets finding orbits
Hands learning new alphabets of closeness
No clock dared interrupt the ceremony
Her tears came for an older story
A ghost of someone she once loved
I held the moment gently
like fragile glass remembering the furnace

Biryani appeared like a friendly planet
We ate, drowsy and victorious
Later I rested my head on her thigh
Balcony wind turning into lullaby
The city below, a basket of fireflies

Morning stitched itself in steam
She ironed my Tshirt into daylight
We wandered a mall like two undercover myths
She bought me a purse
It became a talisman
a quiet witness I will carry until the final train

I am twenty six and learning the strange grammar of luck
Sometimes you meet someone who tilts your sky
She is eight years ahead
She is ten lifetimes deep
I wish time would hurry me older
so I could meet her where her years live

She is not just beautiful
She is a cathedral of kindness
a thundercloud of competence
the rare combination of razor and rose

If I must wander a thousand crossroads
to find another like her
let the roads blister and blaze
I will still go

Because she exists
Because I saw her
Because a woman like her turns love
from rumor into architecture

Goddess is the smallest word I have for her
and even that word kneels
when she says
“hi Parthu”