Whispers of Fate

𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾

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Anisha's POV

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The driver skillfully navigated the streets, maintaining a balance between speed and caution.

Mr. Raichand's phone rang incessantly throughout the ride, each call seemingly demanding his immediate presence. I could see the frustration in his eyes as he answered call after call, his stern demeanor giving way to annoyance.

The car reached our housing society's entrance when Mr. Raichand asked the driver to stop there. He turned to us, and said, "I'm sorry, Anisha. I'm dropping you guys here. I have some really urgent matters to attend to. I need to hurry to the office."

I swiftly replied, "It's alright, sir. Maisha and I will take a little walk from here, right Maisha?"

My daughter nodded.

We exited the car, and Mr. Raichand followed.

I said, "Say bye to your Superman, Maisha."

"Bye bye, Superman," Maisha spoke while waving her little hands.

He leaned closer to her, his voice carrying a sense of gentleness as he spoke to Maisha, "Be a good girl, baby, and listen to your mamma. Okay?"

Maisha nodded, her gaze meeting his with a hint of trust. She then asked with a sense of yearning, "When will you come again?"

Her love for Mr. Raichand exceeded everything in the world. She couldn't even fathom a world where she couldn't find her Superman. She was unequivocally dependent on him, and loved being around him. Her eyes sparkled differently when he was around.

Their bond was something delightful to watch. She listened to every word he spoke, told him stories she never told me, and loved being around him. And when his busy schedule kept him away, she would eagerly wait for his return.

And so did he. A smile was always plastered on his face when Maisha was around. He yielded to all her demands, took care of her, and treated her preciously.

Looking at them, I often wondered how Maisha would have bonded with Sahil.

"Soon," He spoke, and kissed her on her forehead.

He then turned his attention to me. "Anisha, take things lightly. Maisha needs you right now," he advised. I nodded, and he swiftly reentered his car.

With a sense of purpose, the car sped away. Mr. Raichand disappeared into the demands of his own world, leaving us with the uncertainties of ours.

I held Maisha's tiny hands as I began walking towards our house. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling in my chest. The incident at Maisha's school had been deeply unsettling, and I couldn't shake off the hurtful words that had been directed at her.

As we neared our home, I noticed a neighborhood girl playing with her father outside the house next door.

Maisha's eyes locked onto the heartwarming scene, and a profound sadness seemed to wash over her.

She stopped in her tracks, her tiny eyes concentrated, watching the father-daughter duo with a mixture of longing and sorrow.

It was a sight she had seen many times before, but today, it seemed to strike a chord deep within her.

"Maisha," I called gently, bending down to her level, "what's wrong?"

She didn't say anything and walked ahead.