The next morning, Aarav woke up earlier than usual. He swept the veranda, dusted the furniture, and even polished the old wooden table that usually stood untouched. He darted from the kitchen to the living room, arranging things as if a festival was about to begin.His grandmother, seated comfortably on her armchair with her knitting basket, watched him with growing amusement. Her wrinkled lips curled into a smile as her eyes followed his restless movements.“Aarav,” she finally spoke, her voice calm but curious, “who is coming?”Aarav froze mid-step, holding a cloth in his hand. For a moment he avoided her