Aastha’s Pov

The morning sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, landing softly on Vihaan’s tiny face. He kicked his legs in the air, fists opening and closing as he gurgled happily beside me on the mattress. My lips curved into a smile without meaning to. Six months old, and he already knew how to steal my heart in a hundred different ways. Even on days when my body ached with exhaustion and my stomach growled from skipping meals, his little coos and toothless smile made me forget everything else.

I watched as he rolled over his stomach and giggled, he tried to reach for his teddy. I smiled mischievously and I nudged it a little farther, his lips puckered in the cutest whine, and he began wiggling his body with all his might; pushing against the mattress as though sheer willpower could bring him closer. My laughter slipped out at his frustration, but his persistence made my chest swell with pride.

He finally took hold of his teddy and agressively pulled the teddy close to his mouth and began chewing on it. I chuckled and took the teddy out of his hold. He began wailing his eyes out. I immediately panicked, I kept the teddy aside and took him in my arms. I rocked him gently, and tried to quiet him down.

“Shh… my baby. Don’t cry, vihu. Mumma is sorry.” I spoke, feeling helpless seeing him cry. I knew his habits well… he loves to bite on things and then wail when I take it away but right now I was worried for him. I can’t see him crying.

Slowly, he stopped crying, just sniffled softly resting his head on my shoulder. I patted his head slowly. I smiled in relief when I heard his little snores. I carefully laid Vihaan back on the mattress, his tiny fists curled tight even in sleep. For a second, I allowed myself to just watch him, the way his chest rose and fell, the peace etched across his round little face. A part of me wanted to curl up beside him and steal a few more minutes of rest. But life doesn’t slow down just because you’re tired.

I pulled myself up, fixing the dupatta around my shoulder and quickly brushing back the loose strands of hair that had escaped my braid. There was work to be done. The Orphanage wouldn’t run itself, and if I didn’t go, there would be no one to handle the accounts or talk to the families waiting for help.

Bending down, I scooped Vihaan gently into my arms. His weight pressed against me — warm, grounding, both a responsibility and my only source of strength. A stroller or a fancy pram was out of the question. All I had were these arms. And maybe that was enough.

I glanced at the clock ticking on the wall— almost 9 a.m. Already late. With a sigh, I slipped on my faded sandals and slung the worn cotton dupatta tighter around me. Balancing Vihaan on my hip, I quickly tidied the small bag I always carried to the Orphanage— a few notebooks, some crayons donated last month, and a steel water bottle. It wasn’t much, but the children always lit up when they saw me bring something new.

Before stepping out, I checked my purse. A crumpled hundred-rupee note and a few coins clinked inside. Enough for some vegetables on the way back, but not for a rickshaw. Walking it was, as always. I adjusted Vihaan against me, his little head resting in the crook of my neck, and stepped out into the busy lane.

The morning sun was already harsh, the road buzzing with vendors and honking scooters. I walked steadily, swaying him gently whenever he stirred. Sometimes my arms ached from carrying him everywhere, but I reminded myself; he was my strength, not my burden.

By the time I reached the Orphanage, the muffled sound of children’s laughter spilled out onto the street. The moment I entered, tiny feet ran toward me. “Aastha didi!” they chorused, tugging at my kurta, their eyes bright. Their warmth made the walk, the tiredness, the hunger, all of it worth it.

Vihaan blinked awake in my arms, as if curious about the noise, and one of the older girls giggled, reaching to tickle his tiny hand. He cooed in reply, and the whole room erupted in laughter. My heart swelled at the sight.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” I said with mock sternness, smiling as I set my bag down. “We have reading first, play later!”

I carefully placed Vihaan in the crib and began taking the readings of the kids. Everyone was equally invested in reading. I was listening to each student speak with their cute little voice. A few stuttered and misspelled a word and I corrected them gently, guiding them with patience.

“Very good, Meera,” I praised as she managed to get through an entire sentence without fumbling. Her eyes lit up as though I had given her the world. That small glow of pride on their faces was my favorite part of this work.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Vihaan twisting in his crib, his fingers clutching at the thin blanket as he let out a soft whimper. I excused myself for a moment, picked him up, and rocked him gently until he calmed down, resting his head against my shoulder. The children didn’t seem to mind, they adored him, often trying to make him smile when he was awake.

“Didi, can we read to Vihaan too?” one of the boys asked shyly, his book clutched tightly in his small hands.

I chuckled softly, settling Vihaan back in my lap. “Of course. He would love that.”

The boy began to read in a halting rhythm, and Vihaan blinked at him with wide curious eyes, as if truly listening. The others giggled at his seriousness, and the room filled with that innocent, unpolished joy that only children can bring.

For a few moments, the world outside; the hunger, the lack of money, the worries didn’t seem to matter. As the reading session ended, I began collecting the few tattered books, stacking them neatly. I frowned when I noticed one of the notebooks had only a few blank pages left. The crayons too were worn down to stubs, barely enough for all the children.

I walked toward the office, Vihaan balanced against my hip. “Ma’am,” I called softly, stepping into the cramped room where the head caretaker sat with a steaming cup of tea and the newspaper spread before her.

“Yes?” she asked without looking up.

“I just wanted to ask… the notebooks and crayons are almost finished. Even the chalk pieces are breaking. The children…” I hesitated, tightening my hold on Vihaan, “... they’ll need more soon. Could we request some supplies?”

Finally, she looked up at me, her expression sharp. “And where do you expect me to pull money from, Aastha? Do you think this place runs on magic?”

“I didn’t mean-” I began softly, but she cut me off.

“You volunteers think you know everything just because you sit with the kids for a few hours. If you can’t manage with what’s there, then maybe this isn’t the place for you. Stop acting like you’re running the Orphanage.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. My cheeks burned as she went back to sipping her tea, dismissing me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

Vihaan whimpered at my tightened grip, and I quickly adjusted him, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wanted to defend myself, to tell her that all I cared about were the children, that I wasn’t being greedy. But the words stuck. In this place, I was just a volunteer. Powerless.

I walked back to the room, forcing a smile for the waiting children, even though inside I felt small and humiliated. Vihaan still tucked against me, his warm little body keeping me grounded even as my chest burned with humiliation. I forced a smile for the children, sitting with them as if nothing had happened. But inside, her words clawed at me.

Later, while the kids were drawing, I heard my name called sharply from the office again. My stomach twisted as I stood, handing Vihaan to one of the older girls for a moment.

The head caretaker leaned back in her chair, arms folded. Two other staff members sat nearby, sipping tea. I immediately felt like I was on trial.

“You know, Aastha,” she began, her tone almost mocking, “instead of demanding more supplies every other week, maybe you should first set your own house in order.”

I blinked, confused. “I don’t understand…”

One of the women gave a pointed glance at Vihaan, who was babbling happily in the crib. “This is not a daycare, you know. Bringing your baby here every day, using this place for your own convenience… people talk.”

My throat went dry. “I– I don’t bring him here for convenience. I don’t have anyone else. And I still do all the work, I–”

“Excuses,” the caretaker snapped, slamming her cup down. “You should be grateful we even allow you here. Single mothers like you… it’s always the same story. Mistakes, burdens, and then expecting sympathy.”

The words struck like a slap. My lips parted, but no sound came out. Shame, hot and suffocating, crawled up my skin. My fists trembled at my sides, but I forced myself to bow my head, swallowing every defense that wanted to spill out. Because what could I say? They would never understand.

“Go on, then,” she said finally, waving me away like dust. “Do your work. And remember, this is not your home. Don’t overstep.”

I turned, my eyes burning, and hurried out before they could see the tears threatening to spill. I composed myself and took sleeping vihaan in my arms. His small weight in my arms kept me grounded, it reminded me why I had him, that he is my only strength.

My eyes fell on the folded newspaper on the table carrying words I tried to ignore. Hriday Patil to contest election. A name that stirred both respect and unease.

Men like him belonged to a world she had no part in. A world she didn’t want near her son.

I hugged the sleeping vihaan close to me. My eyes looked at the other kids sleeping, a smile made its way on my lips. All these innocent kids deserved better and I will make sure to do everything in my access to provide for them.

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Here's the chapter, The leads will be meeting soon... Are you excited to see how it will unfold?

Lots of love

Shay 💗