They didn't speak for a long while. The ringtone played twice more before either of them said a word.

Raj’s eyes went wide. “Play it.”

And somewhere in a Coimbatore scrap market, a rusted Nokia 6600 still holds the original Bluetooth transfer—a ghost of a song, waiting for two old friends to come collect their youth.

Raj’s voice, older now, smiled through the line. “Divya changed it to a full MP3 in 2009. I changed it back the day she left. Some things should only last six seconds.”

Instead, a familiar, thin, digital melody crackled through the earpiece. Sa-ri-ga-ma-pa…

Kumar pressed loudspeaker. The tinny polyphonic chip—bless its 32-chord heart—sang the melody. It sounded like a broken music box falling down stairs. But to them? It was pure . Every crackle was intention. Every delayed note was emotion.

“Can you send it to me?”

Kumar laughed. “You still have that ringtone?”