Amateur Radio made in Italy

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“You forgot number six,” she said, voice thick.

Nila clutched Arjun’s hand as they walked past the bajji stall. Her heart was a dholak inside her chest. Her mother’s WhatsApp group was 2 km away in Adyar, but it felt like 2 inches.

Nila’s cheeks burned. But she didn’t let go.

She laughed, nervous. “You don’t understand. My aunt’s cook’s niece saw me near Spencer’s with a ‘boy’. Last week, my amma sat me down and showed me a photo of a ‘stable, well-settled’ software engineer from Trichy.”