To the little souls I’ve yet to meet,
One quiet day, when your curious eyes search mine and you ask, “Mumma… how did you find him?” I will smile gently, tuck a stray strand behind your ear, and hand you this book—because words will say it better than time ever could.

This is not a tale of destiny written in the stars, nor of grand confessions beneath moonlit skies. It is a story of soft moments—of rose chai warming cold mornings, of an auto ride that could’ve been forgotten but wasn’t, of stolen glances that bloomed into something too sacred for the world to name.

He was not meant to rescue me. Nor did I wait for him like in old fairytales. He simply arrived—quiet, steady—like breath, like home. And before I knew it, we were weaving a forever out of ordinary days.

This is not just how I met your father. It is how love, in its purest, quietest form, found me… And how you, my little one, began long before you ever existed.