He scene unfolds as the horse cart clatters along the iconic Marine Drive in Mum

He scene unfolds as the horse cart clatters along the iconic Marine Drive in Mumbai. The sky is a soft, moody grey, thick with clouds that promise a heavy downpour later, but for now, only a light drizzle falls, creating a misty veil over the city. The air is cool, and the scent of the ocean mixes with the earthy aroma of rain-kissed pavement. In the backseat of the cart, Mahesh, a 27-year-old from South India, sits beside Jaya, a 25-year-old modern Mumbaikar. Mahesh, dressed in a simple, neatly pressed shirt and jeans, seems a bit out of place in the bustling, fast-paced environment of Mumbai. His gaze alternates between the mesmerizing view of the sea and the vibrant, unpredictable woman beside him. Jaya, dressed in a chic, western outfit that complements her free-spirited personality, leans back, enjoying the cool breeze that tugs playfully at her hair. The drizzle barely touches her, as the cart's canopy offers just enough protection. She steals a glance at Mahesh, noticing the slight tension in his posture. It's clear that he's not entirely comfortable with the unfamiliar setting or the close proximity to her, yet there's something endearing about his sincerity. The rhythmic clopping of the horse's hooves fills the silence between them, a comfortable quiet that neither feels the need to break. As the cart rounds a gentle curve, bringing the endless expanse of the Arabian Sea into full view, Jaya tilts her head back slightly, letting a few stray raindrops land on her face. She turns to Mahesh, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Isn't it beautiful? The rain, the sea… It feels like the city's alive, don't you think?" Mahesh nods, his eyes reflecting the same scene but with a layer of unfamiliarity and awe. "It is… different. Back home, we have the rains too, but the sea... it’s so vast. It’s like it never ends." Jaya chuckles, a sound that makes Mahesh’s heart skip a beat. "Just like Mumbai. It never really ends. You can keep exploring, and there’s always so