The Broken Vow

11

Author's note: Thank you for the love on the last chapter. Can we please get this chapter to 90 votes?

Aahana Agnihotri

“Aahana, you made it!” Meena Krishnan's face lit up as I entered her office at Hope for Better Tomorrow. Her warmth, as always, filled the space.

“Good evening,” I replied, mustering the most genuine smile I'd worn in three weeks. With a subtle nod, I directed my driver to arrange the treats I had baked and supplies I had purchased on the side table. "Sorry, I hope I'm not too late."

"No, not at all." Meena dismissed with a gentle wave. "The participants are still arriving."

I once again nodded at my driver once he was done arranging the things for me. As he slipped out, Meena surveyed the items I'd brought, her brow furrowing with concern.

"You really shouldn't have gotten so much," she murmured, running her fingers along the edge of a package.

"Don't worry about it," I insisted, having heard this protest countless times before. "It's nothing at all."

"It's really nice to see you again," Meena Ma’am beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "How is the job going?"

I shrugged. Yesterday marked my official three weeks at the company and I hated every moment of it.  “It’s good.”

“That’s good. I’m really happy for you.” 

“I’ll go set everything up,” I said, checking the time on my wrist watch. 

“Sure,” she agreed. “I just have to finish up some paperwork then I’ll join you.”

Today it was a carnival that the NGO had organized. They had set up these types of events to facilitate an opportunity for children from all walks of life to interact. I was planning to be a bigger part of the arrangement and all, but with the new job… I shook my head. No negativity. Today was going to be a good day. 

The laughter hit me before I even opened the center's door—a cascade of giggles and shrieks. The sound had become my personal symphony of joy. Each time I heard it, something inside me shifted, it was as if those young voices were physically lightening the weight of the world. Before I could even get a good look of all the arrangements and attendees, a horde of familiar faces rushed to me. 

An enthusiastic chorus of ‘Didi! Didi!’ greeted me as if they were competing to get their voice heard. I couldn’t help but grin as they hugged me, their small bodies and eager arms trying to engulf me.

I never planned for any of this to become such a vital part of my life. That first encounter with Hope for a Better Tomorrow had been purely accidental—a passing glance through a car window while returning from some forgettable party. We were stopped at a red light, and I was absently watching the blurring and spinning world through a lens of inebriation when I noticed them: a group of children playing in the premises, their faces lit with genuine joy. It wasn’t the fake and practiced happiness I was used to seeing at social gatherings, but something raw and real that it followed me for weeks. 

Curiosity finally got the better of me. I told myself I was just going to take a quick look, maybe ease my conscience with a donation. When I learned about their mission—providing not just education but a complete support system for underprivileged children—I wrote them a check that felt impressive at the time. But money, I soon discovered, was the easiest thing to give.

The memories of those children's faces kept pulling me back. When I returned, they asked if I could help with reading lessons. Just one afternoon, I thought. But one afternoon turned into two, then three, until I stopped counting altogether. Something about their eager faces, their determination to learn despite all odds, their resilience in the face of circumstances —it changed me in ways I’m still discovering.