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.

“You didn't come to see us for so long,” one of the kids complained, pouting.

“I know,” I said, mimicking their sad faces. “I’m sorry.”

At six, Chhoti was the youngest, wearing her favorite yellow dress with white flowers. “It's okay, Didi. Did you know I was waiting for you the whole dayyyy?”

“Really?” I smiled. It felt nice to know that there was someone in the world who missed me. 

“Let’s go to the water slide!” Chhoti said, bouncing on her toes. 

“No, we’ll take her to see the food stalls,”  Arjun cut in, tugging at my arm. “They have chaat.”

“No! No! Let’s go do the ring toss,” Rahul waved his arms, trying to be heard over the others.

“Which one do you want to go do, Aahana Didi?”  Their eager faces turned to me in unison, eyes brimming with anticipation and excitement.

I couldn't help but chuckle at their enthusiasm, their excitement contagious.  “I wish I could, but I promised Meena that I would help out with face painting and tattoos,” I said, mimicking their pout once again. “You guys go enjoy, and then come by for a tattoo. I promise I’ll make something cool for you.”

The children's disappointment lasted only seconds before they ran away. I watched them for a while till they disappeared into the festival crowd, then made my way to my stall. 

A mother and her tiny girl approached my stall first, just as I’d finished arranging my brushes.

“I want a flower,” the little girl declared, scrambling onto the stool.

I steadied the wobbling seat for her. “Okay. What color?” 

“Ummm…” She scrunched her nose as she thought. “Pink.”

With a slight nod, I got to work. Her giggles at the cool touch of paint were contagious and it made my lips twitch, though I maintained my focus.

“You like it?” I held up the mirror for her.

She bounced in her seat, nodding vigorously. “Mumma, you get one too.”

Her mother laughed. “No, sweetie. This is for kids.”

“Parents and guardians can get one too if you like,” I murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the sign. “Adults just have to pay.”

The mother studied her daughter’s hopeful expression before settling onto the stool, gathering her child into her lap. “I’ll get a matching one.” 

I recreated the design on the mother’s hand, aware of their twin gazes following each stroke. They shared a giggle at the finished result.

“Would you mind taking a picture?” The mother extended her phone.

I accepted with a nod, capturing several pictures as they displayed their matching tattoos. Something caught in my throat watching their easy affection. “Payment's at the front,” I managed, returning the phone.

Clearing my throat, I turned to the waiting boys.

 “He wants a spider,” the older one spoke for his brother, who was hiding behind.

“Spider man!”  the younger one corrected with an indignant pout.

I had to bite the inside of my mouth to stop myself from laughing. “Alright, come sit here,” I said, as I  reached for the red paint. Thankfully, I had done this a lot of times in the past and now I didn’t even need a reference picture. 

“And you?” I asked the older one while setting his brother’s design.

“A fire spitting dragon.”

A line had formed - parents with children pointing at my design board and dragging them to my stall. I tried my best to make sure each child liked their tattoos. Sometimes parents also got matching tattoos on the instance of  their kids. It warmed my heart that there were kids who got all the love and attention from their parents. Despite my aching back and sore wrist, the sight of such loving families kept me going.

“What would you like?” I asked mechanically, sanitizing my brushes for the next child.

“A bunny!” came an eager voice.

That was a new one. I turned to look at the girl who had made the request. I frowned, trying to remember where I had seen the child before. She wasn’t one of the regular kids at the NGO and neither did she look like someone from my usual circles. Then the man behind her came into view and I realized who it was. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked Adarsh, who now stood beside his niece. 

After my humiliating panic attack in his office, he had just silently driven me around the city under the pretense of meeting a client before dropping me home. My father hadn’t spoken a word to me about it so I assumed Adarsh had somehow covered for me. I was dreading going into the office the next day. I couldn’t bear the thought of interacting with him, after he had seen that vulnerable side of me. It was as if I had handed him a weapon that he might someday turn on me. I wasn’t sure if Adarsh would be the type to use it against me, but not knowing kept me cautious.

However, he hadn’t mentioned the panic attack, not once. He treated me like he usually did- with snide remarks and teasing quips. When our week together came to an end, I had thought I wouldn’t see him for a while, but he was everywhere in the office. No matter which department I visited, what office I stepped into, I’d find remnants of him: his name popping up in conversations, his notes and directives left on desks, small signs of his influence woven through the organization. It was as though he’d imprinted himself on every corner of the place. How exactly had he managed to embed himself so deeply into the organization in such a short time. 

“My niece wants a tattoo,” he replied simply, ruffling her hair. “What was it again?”

“Bunny,” Amira insisted, thrusting out her hand.

I gently took her hand in mine. “What color?”

“White, just like my bunny. Cotton” she declared, shifting on  her seat.

“Okay,” I murmured, steadying her hand. 

“Did you know Chachu got me a real bunny?” She twisted suddenly to beam at Adarsh, nearly causing the brush to skid across her skin.

I clicked my tongue softly as I wiped the mistake. “Amira, you need to sit straight.”

“How do you know my name?” Amira asked, raising an eyebrow.

Heat crept up my neck as I caught Adarsh's raised eyebrow in my peripheral vision. How was I supposed to confess that I had found her name by scooping on Adarsh’s belongings in his office.

“Your Uncle told me,”  I lied. I could practically feel Adarsh’s mind working till I saw his slight smirk told me he'd figured out exactly when I'd learned his niece's name.

“Did I?”His voice dripped with amusement, making my fingers tighten around the brush.

Amira's eyes lit up. “Are you friends with Chachu?” 

“Are you?” Adarsh echoed, his tone carrying an undercurrent of an amused challenge that made my skin prickle.

“Yes,” I forced out through clenched teeth, desperately focusing on the delicate curves of the bunny’s ears, so I could get it right. The sooner I finished, the sooner they'd leave.

“So will you be coming to Chachu’s wedding?” she asked.

My brush froze mid-stroke as ice replaced the blood in my veins. I looked up at Adarsh, hurt and anger warring in my chest. Was he cheating on his future wife with me?

My hand trembled with anger as I forced myself to continue the bunny design.

“All done,” I muttered, giving Amira's hand a final sweep with setting powder.

"It's perfect!" Amira squealed, admiring her wrist. "Chachu, you should get one too!"

"I don't do tattoos for-" I started.

"Adults?" Adarsh cut in smoothly, pointing at the board behind me. "That sign suggests otherwise." His voice carried that familiar note of challenge that always set my nerves on edge.

I wiped my brushes with more force than necessary. "We're very busy with the children's line."

"I don't see any line." His eyes swept the empty space before my stall exaggeratedly. He leaned against my table, disrupting my carefully arranged supplies, moving far too close into my space. "Besides, what kind of friend refuses their friend a tattoo?"

My jaw clenched, the muscle ticking visibly. "Fine. Sit."

Amira bounced excitedly. "Get a bunny like mine, Chachu!"

"What do you think I should get, Aahana?" Adarsh asked, settling into the stool with an ease that only irritated me further.

I leaned close, voice barely a whisper so Amira couldn't hear. "How about 'cheater'? Right across your forehead?"

His low chuckle sent unwanted warmth down my spine. "Jealous already? That's moving rather fast, even for us."

"There is no us," I hissed, dabbing paint with more force than needed. “I just don’t want to be a part of your cheating scheme.”

He grabbed my wrist, his touch firm but gentle. “I’m not cheating on anyone.”

I yanked my hand free, ignoring the lingering warmth of his grip. "I'm not sure if your future wife would agree," I said through gritted teeth. I forced his hand onto my lap, angling it so he couldn't see my work. Five minutes of tense silence later, I straightened. "There. Pay up at the front."

“It’s a pretty purple butterfly!”Amira said, clapping in joy.

I smirked as surprise flickered across his face, but my triumph was short-lived when it transformed into that infuriating grin of his. "Butterfly?" He leaned closer, his breath tickling my ear. "That’s my nickname for you, does that mean you have branded me as yours?"

Before the heat could fully rise to my cheeks, a loud crash cut through the carnival's cheerful atmosphere. I pushed past him, my heart racing for entirely different reasons now. A crowd had gathered at the center, where several men were systematically destroying the carefully arranged stalls and decorations. Parents clutched their children, hurrying toward the exits while others watched in horrified silence.

“Aahana, wait,” Meena Madam grabbed me by my shoulders just as I was trying to confront one of the goons. “I have called the police. They will be here soon.”

“But,” I began arguing, but when I saw the man grabbed Arjun’s arm and began dragging him, I rushed  to them. I forced his arm. "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, striding toward the man who looked like their leader.

“Stay out of this,” he sneered, paan staining his teeth red. He tried to grab Arjun again, but I hid him behind me. "You don't know anything," the leader spat. "This Meena keeps our children here, fills their heads with nonsense about education. They need to work, earn for their families."

"Work?" My voice shook with barely contained rage. "You mean force children into labor? Make them beg on the streets?"

"They are our children!" He took a menacing step forward. "Who is she to give them fancy dreams?"

"Dreams of a better life?" I stood my ground despite my hammering heart. "Of not having to sleep hungry? Of learning to read and write instead of washing dishes in hotels?"

“Aahana,” Meena Ma’am called out my name but I ignored her. 

"What good is reading when their families can't eat?" He swept his arm toward the carnival decorations. "All this fancy show while their parents struggle?"

"Meena Ma'am ensures every child here gets three meals a day. Their families receive monthly rations, medical support-"

"Bribes!" he snarled. "To keep our children away from us!"

"Support," I corrected, my voice ice-cold. "So parents can let their children study instead of forcing them to work. Every parent here knows exactly where their child is, what they're learning-"

"Enough!" His hand raised, and I braced myself.

"Section 323 and 506 of the Indian Penal Code," Adarsh's calm voice cut through the tension. I watched as he gently lowered Amira from his hip, his movements deliberate and steady. A woman I recognized from the NGO appeared, giving him a quick, understanding nod before whisking Amira away with the other children.

He stepped between me and the leader, his stance casual but his shoulders taut. "That's three years imprisonment for attempting assault. Add to that Section 147 for rioting, 427 for damaging property." 

"Who the hell are you?" The leader's raised hand wavered, his bravado cracking slightly.

Adarsh's lips curved into a smile that held no warmth. "Someone who will personally ensure you face Section 75 of the Juvenile Justice Act for endangering children." His tone remained conversational, almost friendly, but ice ran beneath the words. "That's another seven years. Would you like me to continue with sections regarding child labor and trafficking? I have all day."

"You think you can scare us with your fancy laws?" The leader's voice rose, but I noticed his feet shifting backward, his gaze uncertain.

"Not at all." Adarsh shrugged, adjusting his watch, casually. "I'm just informing you about your future, but you're the one who seems scared for some reason." His head tilted slightly. "Though I am curious about those 'businesses' you mentioned earlier - the ones where these children are supposed to work?"

The leader took a step back, his gaze darting between his increasingly nervous followers.

"I suggest you leave," Adarsh added, his pleasant tone at odds with the steel in his eyes. "Maybe you'll handle the arriving police, but my colleagues at the Child Welfare Committee?" He smiled again. "They're always eager to investigate cases like these."

The movement caught my eye before my mind processed it - a flash of metal, a figure rushing forward. My body moved before I could think, driven by some instinct I didn't know I possessed. I threw myself in front of Adarsh, bracing for impact.

The screams around us seemed distant, muffled. I waited for pain that didn't come. When I opened my eyes, Adarsh's face filled my vision - but something was wrong. The usual amusement in his features had been replaced by a grimace of pain. His knees buckled, and I reached for him instinctively as he crumpled to the ground.

"Adarsh?" My voice came out small, unfamiliar.

Then I saw it - the crimson stain spreading across his blue t-shirt. My hands hovered over him, trembling, as red seeped between his fingers where he clutched his abdomen.