"I don't want to become the kind of Adwait who would rip every single skin cell off any man who dares to have even the faintest touch upon your skin," He placed a soft, lingering kiss on her earlobe.
Nitya's heart raced in response to his words. Sh...
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Entering the bustling hall, I made a conscious effort to calm my racing heart. His touch and proximity made my breath grow labored.
I headed towards the refreshment area to fetch a bottle of water. And there, amidst the crowd, my eyes fell upon the familiar sight of the little girl that Adwait had been carrying earlier, accompanied by an older couple.
I walked over to the little girl and the older couple. The kid's eyes locked onto mine, and she reached out her tiny hands toward me. I scooped her up into my arms and she wrapped her little arms around my neck.
Meanwhile, the older couple observed us with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.
"Namaste. I'm Nitya," I greeted them. "The little girl was with my friend just a little while ago, and I happened to be present. That's how she recognizes me." I explained, hoping to ease their curiosity and assure them that there was no cause for concern.
(Greetings)
Their features softened, and a warm smile spread across their faces. They exchanged glances before turning their attention back to me.
"Ahh, we remember that gentleman," the woman spoke, "He was such a kind and caring man. He took it upon himself to ensure the safety of our granddaughter and looked after her all this time."
My heart swelled with adoration as I recalled the image of Adwait with the little girl. The way he tenderly cared for her, calming her cries and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead—it was truly heartwarming to witness.
I looked down at the little girl snuggled in my arms, head resting on my chest, peacefully asleep. She was just too cute. Couldn't help it—I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her tiny head.
"She's a remarkable child," I turned my attention to the little girl's grandmother as she began to speak, her voice filled with a mix of sorrow and hope. "Her parents tragically passed away in a plane crash when she was just 6 months old." she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
A pang of sadness struck my heart.
"And recently, she was diagnosed with Dysarthria. The doctors told us that she may struggle to speak like other children her age. She's two years old now, and though she understands everything, she finds it difficult to express herself verbally."
(Dysarthria is a speech disorder characterized by difficulty in articulating words due to weak, imprecise, or uncoordinated movements of the muscles used for speech production.)
The old man placed his hand gently on his wife's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "There are times where she'll just sit in her room, lost in staring at her parents' photos for hours. She hardly talks to anyone, but I can tell she feels safe around you and your friend."
Her grandmother brushed away her tears, the dampness staining her saree. "We might be getting on in years, but we're trying our best to bring some joy into her world. She's our only glimmer of hope, the reason we keep going."
