Aastha's POV

The next morning arrived slower than usual, wrapped in a calm that felt almost foreign. The children's laughter echoed through the orphanage courtyard, soft and distant, while I folded the fresh laundry near Vihaan's crib. For once, he wasn't fussy, his tiny giggles filling the air as if yesterday's encounter had left its trace on him too.

I hadn't expected Hriday Patil to linger in my thoughts. But he did- quietly, stubbornly. The memory of his calm voice, the way he spoke about protecting the children, kept circling back. And I hated that part of me wanted to believe him.

I shook the thought away, focusing on the neat stacks of clothes beside me. There was too much to do to get lost in something that didn't belong in my world. The children needed breakfast, supplies were running low, and the head caretaker had already mentioned that someone needed to make a trip to the market today.

Of course, that someone was me.

I sighed softly, glancing at Vihaan as he played with the corner of his blanket. "Looks like it's you and me again, champ," I murmured, brushing a kiss to his forehead. He gurgled in response, completely unaware of how small the world could be for the two of us.

I packed a small bag, slinging it over my shoulder before stepping out into the sunlight that spilled lazily across the courtyard. The air smelled of damp earth and soap from the morning chores. For a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful, almost enough to believe the world had forgotten its cruelty.

Almost.

____

I reached the market with vihaan sleeping in the baby carrier, I had recently bought, his head resting against my chest. I walked further into the market looking around to find fresh vegetables.

I wandered through the stalls, scanning for the freshest vegetables. At one small, colorful stand, I paused, bending slightly to inspect the produce. Carefully, I picked through each item, checking for bruises and blemishes, making sure I chose only the best for the little meals I would prepare later.

Vihaan slept in the carrier against my chest, his tiny breaths soft and even. I reached for a bunch of coriander when a whisper turned into a hard, deliberate chuckle.

"Look at her-brazen as you like, walking around with that baby," a voice said, loud enough that nearby women angled to listen. "Who knows where that child came from. Probably some fling. Shameful."

The murmurs swelled. I felt the gaze land on me like stones. I kept my face forward, pretending not to notice, but the words scraped against my skin.

"Slut," someone spat, and the word rippled through the circle like a stone thrown into still water. "Can you imagine? Sleeping around, then left with a baby to raise. Pathetic."

Another laughed, cruel and bright. "She wears her freedom like a sari; open to the breeze. Filthy woman."

They said it plain. No pretense of concern. No crocodile pity. Just venom dressed up as gossip. My fingers tightened around the vegetables until my knuckles ached.

Heard it all before, I told myself. You're used to it. But the sound this time landed different, it dug. Vihaan stirred, an unconscious whimper escaping him as if he felt the anger too. I bowed my head, not out of shame, but to keep my face from trembling.

"Excuse me," I heard the woman who'd first spoken say, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You should know your place. Women like you ruin reputations. Shame on the orphanage for letting you in."

The vendor's eyes flicked to me, uncertain. People loved the drama; they loved to watch a woman be cut. I wanted to tell them that I had a job, that I worked through nights, that I had saved every rupee to keep a roof over our heads. I wanted to tell them where Vihaan came from, to put their filthy imaginations to rest. Instead the words stuck in my throat.

For a second, something in me wanted to explode, shout, scream, call them every name back. But there were children to feed, a baby to keep calm, and gossip-hungry women who'd only take pleasure in my collapse. So I did the thing they expected least.

I took a slow breath, keeping Vihaan steady against me, and let my voice rise just enough to carry over the whispers.

"I'm here to buy my groceries, like anyone else," I said, calm but deliberate. "I work hard, and I take care of my child. Nothing more, nothing less."

There was a pause. Some of the women blinked, momentarily thrown off by the quiet confidence in my tone.

"Perhaps it's better to mind your own business," I added, letting a faint edge slip in, though I kept my eyes on Vihaan. "We all have lives to live, and yours isn't mine to judge."

The murmurs shifted into awkward shuffles. One woman muttered something under her breath, but it didn't carry the same sharpness as before. I didn't look at her. I adjusted Vihaan in the carrier, letting him rest against my chest, and continued selecting the vegetables with deliberate care, showing them that their venom had no power over me.

Vihaan stirred slightly, as if sensing my resolve. I smiled down at him, whispering, "See? We keep going, no matter what." I paid for the vegetables and held the bags tightly ignoring their stares.

The women's stares lingered, but I walked past them, shoulders straight, head held high. Inside, my pulse raced, but I refused to let it show. I would not give them the satisfaction of watching me falter. Not today.

Outside the market, I exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip just a little. Vihaan yawned against my chest, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us, and that was enough.

I walked back to the orphanage in silence, Vihaan asleep in my arms, his little chest rising and falling softly against me. The market noise had faded behind me, but the echoes of their cruel words followed, relentless. Slut... pathetic... filthy woman... The labels clung to me, stubborn and heavy, no matter how many times I had heard them before.

I told myself I was used to it; that their gossip, their venom, didn't define me. But every time, somewhere deep inside, it stabbed again. It wasn't the first time someone had judged me for being alone, for raising a child the world didn't understand. Yet each repetition felt like a fresh cut, invisible but raw.

I tightened my hold on Vihaan, as if the warmth of his little body could shield me from the sting. And in a quiet corner of my mind, I allowed myself the smallest, most human acknowledgment: it hurt. It hurt to be looked at with disgust instead of understanding. It hurt that society measured me by assumptions, instead of the love I poured into this tiny life.

Even so, I walked on. Every step was measured, every breath deliberate. They could call me what they wanted, but they could not touch what mattered, the life I was building for my son, the world I was creating for him, and the small, stubborn flame inside me that refused to be crushed.

I reached the orphanage and I handed the vegetable bag to the other caretaker. She took the bag inside the kitchen and neatly stored the items.

I carefully placed Vihaan in his crib and looked at the children who were studying. I smiled softly. A few of the older ones had recently earned scholarships to attend nearby schools; an achievement I celebrated quietly but the younger ones were still learning here, under our roof.

We couldn't afford to send all of them yet, but we were doing our best, giving them every chance we could.

I hope the donations provided by him are truly used for the children... Every corner, every rupee, reaching them as he intended. But the truth weighed heavily on me. I had no real control over how or where the money would be allocated.

The owners and higher officials would decide that. My role was limited to overseeing what I could, guiding where possible... but the final say was never mine.

All I could do was hope and request.

___

Day passed like usual. In the evening, I walked home with vihaan strapped on me like usual. It was a breezy evening, the sun was setting, paiting the sky in warm hues.

"Heya baby! Are you enjoying?" I asked him, cooing softly.

He squealed, grabbing onto my shirt in his tiny fist. I leaned down to kiss his head. "My beautiful bubba."

When we reached home. I placed him down on the playing mat, keeping his toys close for him to grab. I walked away, so I could do the household chores until he's busy solo playing.

I finish most of the work, but then there's a loud cry echoing throughout the apartment. It's my cue to drop everything and rush to him. I see him sprawled on his back, legs kicking in frustration, his tiny face scrunched up.

I kneel down, and take him in my arms. I gently rock him, trying to tell him I'm here. I soflty coo at him, trying to speak soft, sweet nonsense which slowly soothes him. I kiss his chubby cheeks, making him squeak and touch my face.

"Love you, button nose." I whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. He let's out a loud squeal, flapping his hands in excitement. "I get it champ." I mummered, poking his tummy gently.

I stood up carefully, and made my way in the kitchen. I prepare his milk bottle, while holding him on my hip, gently bouncing him, so he doesn't cry.

Once the bottle was ready, I checked the temperature and walked back in the living room. I comfortably settle on the couch, and adjust him in my lap. I give the bottle to him, who begins sucking on it gently, holding the bottle with his tiny fingers. I lean down and place a soft kiss on his fingers, which made him pull back from the bottle and look at me.

"Drink up, lil guy." I whispered, blinking at him, and making him go back to drink again.

My baby is growing up so fast. I remember he was so little when I first held him. I softly caressed his cheek, as I remember the time when I first saw him.

Once he well fed, I burp him and pace around the room to make him fall asleep. It doesn't take him long, as he falls asleep easily after being full.

I gently placed him in his crib, and covered him with the blanket. "Goodnight, my Lil love." I whispered gently.

I go over to the couch and lean back against it tiredly. The weight of today crashing onto me. I tried to hold back my tears, as I rembered the earlier incident at the market. The words. looks. Whispers. Everything made me feel like shrinking, but I held my head high as I was not wrong. I wanted to be strong for vihaan.

I composed myself. I take my laptop and start working on the pending projects. The freelance work helps me keep up with all the expenses. I don't usually take up big projects which I won't be able to handle, while handling the orphanage and vihaan.

Till the time I am done, it's almost 2 am. I sighed and closed my laptop, placing it at the table properly. I lay down on the couch itself, falling asleep.

I hope I can provide vihaan with everything he needs.

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So, here's an another update. Hope, you liked it. The story will be catching it's pace soon. Stay tuned for the further twists and drama.

Lots of love,

Shay 💗