Aastha’s Pov

The morning light slipped into the small room, warming the room in soft gold. I rocked Vihaan gently, his small fingers clutching my kurta as if afraid to let go. His laughter bubbled in the quiet air, sweet and unrestrained.

“To the world, you’re tiny,” I whispered against his forehead, “but to me, you’re everything.”

In his innocent gaze, I found both my strength and vulnerability. The world outside could judge me, label me, dismiss me. But here, at this moment, I was only a mother to him. But for me he is my only family, my everything.

I shifted him slightly, his weight warm and familiar against my chest. The room smelled faintly of milk and talcum powder, a scent that had become my comfort. My body ached from sleepless nights, but the curve of his lips when he smiled erased every trace of fatigue.

The clock ticked softly on the peeling wall, reminding me that soon the day would begin; the orphanage, the endless responsibilities, the hushed whispers of neighbors. Yet for these few stolen minutes, I wanted nothing else. Just me, and my little boy, cocooned away from a world that had never been kind.

“Time to get ready for work baby.” I whispered to him, tickling his side playfully. His soft giggle fills the room.

I don't know what I will ever do without him.

“Now, my cutie. You stay here. Mumaa will go and get ready.” I gently put him in his crib and made sure he was comfortable. I handed him his favourite teddy, which he clutched tightly and began playing with it.

I made my way to the washroom to get ready for the day. I had a quick shower. I quickly changed into a soft cotton kurti and jeans. I tied my hair up in a messy bun, put on a bindi and some kajal to enhance my eyes. I wore a small silver jhumki, it's my favourite and matches with each of the kurtis I own.

When I stepped back into the room, the first thing I saw was Vihaan. He was lying on his back with his chubby hands wrapped around his favorite teddy. His tiny legs kicked at the air, a rhythm of joy only he understood, and a string of babbles spilled from his lips as if he’d been holding an entire conversation with the toy.

The moment his eyes found me, they lit up. A squeal burst out of him, his fists waving in the air in demand. My heart melted the way it always did, every single time.

I walked over to his crib, and took him in my arms. He squealed happily, clapping his hands in delight. I placed a kiss on his chubby cheek. He giggled and began babbling as if telling me his secrets. I nodded my head along, agreeing to his babbles.

“Enough of playing now vihu baby, mumma has to work now.” I spoke softly, he looked at me with a sad pout, “Don't look at me like that now, let's give my vihu a bath?”

He squealed upon hearing the word ‘bath’, Vihaan is a crazy lover of bathing. I mean he loves to splash around in the bathtub and I have a hard time taking him out of the water.

I carried him to the washbasin and began undressing him gently, humming an old lullaby. Vihaan kicked his legs excitedly, babbling louder as if encouraging me to hurry.

The moment I placed him in the small plastic tub, his tiny hands slapped at the water, sending droplets flying everywhere. His giggles bounced off the walls, a melody that healed every hidden wound inside me.

“Vihu, stop splashing so much! Mumma will get drenched!” I laughed, but of course, he paid me no mind. By the time I finished scrubbing his little arms and belly, my kurti was soaked, and his face glowed with happiness.

After wrapping him in a soft towel, I pressed my face into his warm skin, breathing him in. Babies smelled like innocence itself, powder and milk and something indescribably pure.

Dressing him in a pale blue romper, I placed him on the bed with his teddy while I packed our bag for the day. Diapers, wipes, a change of clothes, his bottle, my hands moved in practiced rhythm, each item a reminder of the quiet battles I fought daily.

By the time I looked back, Vihaan had rolled onto his stomach, making a valiant attempt to push himself up on his tiny arms. He wobbled, then flopped down again, shrieking in protest.

“You’ll get there, my lion,” I murmured, lifting him into my arms once more.

The walk to the Orphanage was always short but tiring. Balancing a bag, Vihaan on my hip, and the stares of people along the way had become part of my routine. Some looked at me with pity, some with judgment, and some simply turned away. I’d learned to keep my chin high, even when the weight of their whispers pressed hard against me.

Inside the Orphanage, the world shifted. The laughter of children filled the air, louder than the creaking of old fans or the clutter of wooden desks. Here, at least, I wasn’t judged. Here, I was Aastha; the caretaker, the teacher, the one who tried to make childhood lighter for kids who had already seen too much.

Vihaan immediately became the center of attention. The older kids ran over, squealing, “Baby Vihu! Baby Vihu!” His face lit up, and he waved his tiny fists, enjoying the attention as if he knew he was the star of their little universe.

“Careful, careful,” I reminded, placing him gently on a blanket in the corner of the room. His teddy joined him, and the children began making silly faces to coax out his laughter.

I smiled, watching them, but inside, a familiar ache bloomed. Sometimes, I wondered if Vihaan would ever ask about his father. About the missing half of his family. And what would I say?

Shaking the thought away, I clapped my hands. “Alright, everyone! Time for lessons.”

The children groaned playfully, but soon, the room was filled with the sound of scribbling pencils, chattering voices, and dreams too big for their small notebooks.

Vihaan’s occasional giggles drifted through the noise, reminding me why I kept going. For him. For all of them.

The morning wore on, and the children bent over their notebooks, their pencils scratching with determination. Some still struggled with letters, some raced through sums, but each of them carried a spark that I cherished.

“Didi, my pencil broke!” little Rehan whined, waving the stub in the air.

I hurried over, digging into my bag to find another. My stomach tightened as I realized how few spares were left. Supplies were running thin again, and the monthly donation hadn’t come through yet. For a brief moment, panic threatened to rise in my chest. But I forced myself to smile. “Here you go, Rehan. Careful this time, okay?”

He grinned and nodded, and the worry ebbed, though it didn’t vanish.

From the corner, Vihaan let out a squeal, as if sensing my unease. When I turned, he was on his tummy, struggling to lift his head higher, his little face scrunching in frustration. The older girls giggled and encouraged him, clapping their hands. “Come on, baby Vihu!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My son, the center of their tiny universe.

By midday, the heat pressed down heavily. I set Vihaan in my lap as I fed him, his tiny hands reaching up every now and then to tug at my earrings. His eyes fluttered sleepily, and soon he was dozing against my shoulder, the weight of him both grounding and comforting.

The children ate their simple lunch of khichdi, and for a few blessed minutes, the room was peaceful. I leaned back against the wall, stroking Vihaan’s hair, my thoughts wandering. This was my life now—me, him, and this Orphanage. No family to lean on, no partner to share the load. Just us. And yet… when he sighed softly in his sleep, I realized it was enough. More than enough.

Afternoon passed in a blur of lessons, laughter, and tiny temper. By the time the other caretaker arrived, the sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in soft orange hues. I gathered our things, tucking a sleepy Vihaan against my hip.

I take care of the Orphanage in the morning and at the night time we have other volunteers. I can't be in the NGO 24/7 as I have to take care of vihaan.

The walk back home was quiet. The neighborhood lanes bustled with vendors and rickshaws, but my mind was already shifting to the evening ahead; cooking a simple dinner, preparing Vihaan’s feed, and maybe, if time allowed, reading a page or two from the old book that still sat by my bedside.

At home, Vihaan was wide awake again, kicking and babbling in his crib while I stirred dal on the stove. Every few minutes, I turned to make a funny face at him, rewarded by his bubbling laughter.

By night, after his bath and feed, I lay beside him on our small bed. His tiny hand curled around my finger, his breathing evening out as sleep claimed him. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering the words I whispered every night.

“You’re my strength, Vihaan. My reason. My everything. Someday, I’ll give you a life where you’ll never feel the absence of anything. I promise.”

The room grew still, the only sound the soft hum of the ceiling fan and his steady breaths. Outside, the world carried on with its chaos, but within these four walls, it was just us. My little family. My whole world.

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So, here's a chapter for you guys. I hope you like the starting. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

Lots of love,

Shay💗