I glanced at my watch, feeling the seconds slip away as if they were grains of sand in an hourglass.
"Pihu, come down quickly, or you'll be late for school!" I called out, my voice echoing a bit louder than I intended in the quiet of the house, as I adjusted the strap on my wrist.
The house was unusually silent today, the usual morning hustle replaced by an almost serene calm. Maa and Dad had left early for the mandir, their devotion as unwavering as ever.
Reyansh, my brother, was already on his way to the office, driven by the urgency of our impending meeting. It was one of those rare mornings when the vastness of the house seemed to accentuate the absence of its occupants.
As I called out to Pihu, I couldn't help but feel the empty spaces left by our missing piece. The loss of my wife was a wound that time had not yet healed, and in these quiet moments, her absence was palpable.
"Coming, Papa!" Pihu's voice rang out, bringing me out of my thoughts.
Her words, light and cheerful, pierced through the quietness of the house, filling the emptiness with the warmth of her presence. I watched her as she bounded down the stairs, her tiny feet making a rhythmic patter that brought a smile to my face.
In that moment, the weight of the morning seemed to lift.
Seeing Pihu, so full of life and energy, reminded me of the joy and love that still existed in our lives, despite the void left by her mother.
Her laughter and her smile were like a balm to my heart, a daily reminder of the love that still surrounded us.
She ran toward me, her arms outstretched, and I bent down to scoop her up.
The feel of her small arms wrapping around my neck and the warmth of her cheek against mine filled me with a sense of completeness.
Holding her close, I felt a surge of gratitude for this little girl who was my world, my reason to carry on, and the embodiment of hope and resilience.
With Pihu by my side, I knew that no matter how vast and empty the house felt, our home was still filled with love.
As we made our way to the car, hand in hand, I was reminded that even in the face of loss, life continued to offer moments of profound beauty and connection.
We made our way to the car, the morning sun casting a warm glow on the path ahead.
As we drove, Pihu's gaze was fixed on the window, her eyes dancing from one building to another, absorbing the world outside with an awe that only a child could possess.
The city was slowly waking up, the streets filling with the sounds of life—a bicycle bell ringing, the distant honk of a car, and the rhythmic footsteps of people rushing to start their day.
Pihu's fingers traced patterns on the glass, her mind weaving stories around the scenes unfolding before her eyes.
"What do you see, Pihu?" I asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.
"I see a big, big world, Papa. And I want to see it all with you," she said, her voice full of wonder.
Her words touched something deep within me, a reminder of the journey we were on together.
"And we will, my little explorer," I promised, feeling a mix of pride and determination. "We'll see it all, one step at a time."
We drove past her favourite park, where the trees stood tall and proud, their leaves whispering secrets in the breeze.
It was the park where we had spent countless afternoons, her laughter filling the air as she chased after butterflies and picked flowers to weave into crowns. It was a place of memories, both joyful and bittersweet.
A few minutes later, I suddenly heard Pihu call out, "Papa, stop!" I quickly parked the car by the busy road.
With unintentional fear in my eyes and care in my voice, I turned around and asked, "What happened, Pihu? Are you fine? Do you need something?"
"Teacher!" she exclaimed, pointing towards a figure standing just a few meters away from us.
"Papa, that's my teacher I told you about." I looked at her, noting her struggle to flag down an auto, her attempts so far unsuccessful.
Pihu's concern was palpable as she asked, "Papa, can we help her get to school? She helped me yesterday."
I glanced at the clock, weighing the time we had. Then, turning back to Pihu, I nodded. "Hmm, alright."
Pihu's face lit up with happiness at my response. I slowly maneuvered the car towards the woman and stopped besides her.
"TEACHER!" Pihu called out, lowering the window as she looked at the young woman.
Author's POV –
As the alarm rang, Shivangi stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, reluctant to part from the comforting darkness.
Today was one of those rare mornings when she had slept peacefully, free from the usual restlessness that often plagued her nights.
For a brief moment, she lay there, savoring the stillness, feeling cocooned in the warmth of her bed.
The quietness of the early morning wrapped around her like a gentle embrace, and she allowed herself a few precious seconds to bask in it.
Her mind, usually racing with the demands of the day ahead, was unusually calm. But as the minutes ticked by, reality began to seep in.
The world outside was waiting, with all its responsibilities and challenges.
With a sudden jolt, Shivangi pushed herself up, the peaceful moment slipping away like sand through her fingers.
She threw off the covers, leaving the comforting bed behind as she steeled herself for the day ahead.
There was no time to linger in the luxury of sleep; the day demanded her attention, and she was ready to meet it head-on, armed with the rare tranquility she had just experienced.
"Auto!" Shivangi called out, her voice straining over the growing hum of the city waking up.
The roads were beginning to fill with cars and other vehicles, a bustling sea of morning commuters.
Her urgency was palpable as she tried to flag down an auto, her hand raised high in a desperate gesture.
She was already running a bit late, thanks to the usual conflict with her parents that morning. Each morning seemed to start with the same tense exchanges, leaving her frazzled and frustrated.
As she stood by the roadside, watching auto-rickshaws speed past, she felt the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her chest.
The cacophony of honking horns and revving engines filled the air, but her calls went unanswered.
The autos were either occupied or zipped by without slowing. Shivangi's heart raced as she glanced at her watch, her frustration mounting with each passing second.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the swirl of emotions within her, determined not to let the morning's chaos dictate the rest of her day.
As she checked her watch again, anxiety creeping up with each passing second, a sleek black luxury car came to a halt beside her.
The car was immaculate, its dark exterior gleaming under the morning sun. Shivangi couldn't help but stare in awe.
The windows were tinted so darkly that they seemed to absorb the light, preventing anyone from peeking inside.
Just as she was about to turn away, thinking it was some VIP on their morning commute, the backseat window slid down smoothly.
Shivangi's eyes widened as she heard a soft yet excited voice calling out, "TEACHER!" To her surprise, it was Pihu.
The little girl's big eyes sparkled with joy as she leaned forward, her excitement palpable. "Pihu! Aap yaha?" Shivangi asked, her voice a mix of astonishment and warmth.
She bent down slightly, getting closer to the window, her hands resting on her lap as she peered into the car.
Pihu's face lit up even more at Shivangi's response, her joy so contagious that it brought an involuntary smile to Shivangi's lips.
As she glanced up at the man in the driver's seat, Shivangi assumed he was the chauffeur tasked with dropping Pihu off at school.
His demeanor was composed, and he seemed content to wait patiently as Pihu and her teacher exchanged pleasantries.
"Teacher, this is our car!" Pihu exclaimed proudly, her excitement evident in every word.
Shivangi nodded, still under the impression that this was just a typical scenario for a well-to-do family with a chauffeur-driven vehicle.
"It's very nice, Pihu," Shivangi replied, turning her warm smile back toward the little girl. "You're lucky to have such a lovely car to ride in every day."
In that moment, Shivangi was completely unaware of the misunderstanding brewing beneath her polite exterior, believing she was simply engaging in a casual conversation with her student.
"Teacher, come, we'll go to school together!" Pihu said, her voice full of innocence, her eyes glowing with excitement.
Shivangi hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her face. She didn't want to impose, but Pihu's enthusiasm was hard to resist.
"Pihu, are you sure?" Shivangi asked, her tone gentle. Pihu nodded eagerly, her excitement uncontainable.
"Yes, Teacher! Please come with us! " Shivangi glanced toward the man in the driver's seat, still under the impression that he was a chauffeur.
"Sir, can I really? I don't want to be a bother, especially since you're also late getting to school.
"He turned his head toward her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. "Yes, it's fine," he replied calmly.
The moment their eyes met, something unexpected stirred in Shivangi's heart—a spark, faint but undeniable.
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The Third chapter is here.
Thank you for reading I hope you liked it.
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