He sent a boat.
Not a yacht, not the gleaming white status symbols that crowded Mumbai's luxury marinas. A simple wooden fishing boat with peeling blue paint and an outboard motor, helmed by a grizzled old fisherman who introduced himself as Kaka and treated Reyansh with the casual familiarity of someone who had known him since he was a boy stealing mangoes from the docks. Priya stood on the weathered jetty at Sassoon Docks, the fish market's raucous chaos fading behind her, and stared at the humble vessel bobbing in the grey morning water.
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