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AUTHOR'S POV
The morning sun fell softly across the courtyard of the orphanage, filtering through the neem tree and painting moving patches of gold on the ground. The place was alive in the way only children could make it—bare feet slapping against stone, high-pitched laughter echoing off the walls, a chorus of voices calling out half-formed stories and demands.
Ayaan's mother paused at the gate, her hand still resting lightly on Aishna's wrist.
"It will be good for you," she said again, almost as if reassuring herself this time. "To see what gives me true joy."
Aishna smiled, a little unsure but warm. "I'd love here, Maa."
Aishna has already recognised the place but she stayed quiet about it. But her smile is enough to tell how happy she is to come back here after a long while. She held Ambika's hand assuredly and walked inside.
They had barely taken three steps inside when the calm shattered.
"MAAA!"
"Maa aa gayi!"
(Mom has come!)
"Ma, dekho! Dekho!"
(Mom, look! Look!")
Children came running from every direction like a tide—some small enough to stumble, some older ones pretending not to run but failing miserably. They crashed into Ayaan's mother, wrapping arms around her waist, clinging to her dupatta, tugging at her bangles.
"You're late today," one little girl complained, hands on her hips.
"I kept your chair ready," another announced proudly.
"Maa, you promised a story!" a boy reminded her loudly.
Ayaan's mother laughed, that deep, familiar laugh that only came out here. "Arre, arre, one at a time! Let me breathe first."
She bent to kiss foreheads, smoothing hair, scolding gently, asking, "Did you eat? Did you finish your homework? Why are your shoes missing again?"
Then—something shifted.
One small boy froze mid-step, staring past her. His eyes widened.
"...Didi?"
Before Aishna could even react, he ran straight past Ayaan's mother and latched onto Aishna's leg.
"DIDI!" he yelled triumphantly.
Ayaan's mother straightened slowly.
Another voice followed. "Aishna Didi?"
Then another. "It is her!"
"Didi aa gayi!"
(Sister has come!)
"Didi, aaj game khelenge?"
(Sister, will we play games today?")
"Didi, you promised drawing!"
Aishna blinked, stunned for exactly one second—then she laughed, a real laugh, bright and unguarded.
"Arre, Arjun! You've grown!" she said, crouching down immediately.
"How do you know my name?" he gasped, offended.
She tapped his nose. "Because you stole my biscuits last time."
Gasps. Giggles. Accusations.
"She remembers!"
"She always remembers!"
"Didi, look, I can write my name now!"
A little girl pushed forward, thrusting a crumpled notebook into Aishna's hands. Aishna took it carefully, like it was something precious.
"You did this?" she asked softly.
YOU ARE READING
𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓼
Romance"Some love stories don't start with fireworks-they begin with silence, with a glance that lingers a second too long." They didn't fall all at once. It began with the memory of that first glance. "The first time I saw you, I felt something I couldn't...
