It was a Sunday morning, and the usual quiet of Priya's home had given way to a flurry of activity. Peehu's room was a battlefield of clothes—skirts and dresses strewn across the bed, shoes mismatched on the floor, and a scattering of ribbons and headbands that seemed to have taken on lives of their own.

In the center of it all stood Peehu, her little face scrunched up in concentration as she examined herself in the mirror. She turned this way and that, her tiny hands smoothing out the hem of her dress before letting out a dramatic sigh. "No, Mumma," she declared. "This dress doesn't look good."

Priya, sitting at the edge of the bed, let out a huff, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she surveyed the chaos around her. Her patience, though vast, was starting to wear thin. "Peehu," she said, her tone both firm and pleading, "we're getting late. We should've left by now. If we wait any longer, the park will be so crowded we won't even find a spot."

Peehu turned to her mother, holding up another dress—a pink one this time—and asked earnestly, "Is this one good, Mumma?"

Priya pushed herself off the bed, her lips curving into a smile despite her exasperation. She knelt in front of her daughter, brushing a strand of hair from Peehu's face. "Peehu," she said softly, her voice full of affection, "whatever you wear, you'll look like a princess. You always do."

Peehu's frown melted into a shy smile, her eyes lighting up at her mother's words. With newfound confidence, she nodded, slipping into the pink dress. As she turned to the mirror again, Priya stood and began gathering the scattered clothes, muttering to herself about the mess.

As Peehu spun around, admiring her reflection, Priya caught her daughter's gaze in the mirror. For a moment, the world seemed to pause—the busy morning, the rushing, even the mess. All Priya could see was her little girl, glowing with happiness and innocence, a light in her life that nothing could dim.

"Come on now, princess," Priya said with a playful urgency. "We're late!"

With a laugh, Peehu grabbed her mother's hand, and they rushed out of the room together,

The day had been a whirlwind of joy and adventure. Peehu's laughter echoed through the park as she played endlessly, her little hands clutching a growing collection of toys she insisted on bringing home. Priya watched her daughter with a mix of amusement and adoration, cherishing every giggle, every moment of unfiltered happiness.

As the sun dipped lower, they made their way to a cozy restaurant. Peehu, still bubbling with excitement, managed to spill her juice on her dress while enthusiastically talking about her new toys. Priya laughed softly, leaning over to clean up the mess, her heart full from the simple joy of their time together.

When the meal was done, Priya carried Peehu out to the parking lot. Peehu, now tired from the long day, rested her head against Priya's shoulder. The weight of her little girl felt both grounding and comforting—a reminder of the love that carried Priya through even the hardest days.

At the car, Priya gently set Peehu down and reached into her bag for the keys. Her fingers fumbled through the jumble of receipts, tissues, and odds and ends. As she rummaged, Peehu's gaze caught the bright red balloon in her hand. A soft breeze tugged at its string, and in a moment of distraction, Peehu let it slip.

The balloon floated upward, carried by the wind. Peehu, her eyes wide with wonder, began to follow it, her small feet pattering across the parking lot.

"Peehu, wait!" Priya called, finally pulling the keys from her bag. But when she looked up, her heart dropped. Peehu had wandered into the middle of the road, her eyes fixed on the balloon now high in the sky.

Time slowed as Priya's eyes caught the glint of an oncoming car. Her breath hitched, and panic surged through her veins. Without a second thought, she sprinted forward, her voice breaking as she screamed, "Peehu!"

The car's tires screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes. Priya reached her daughter just in time, scooping her up into her arms and holding her close.

"What were you thinking?" Priya gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and relief. Peehu, sensing her mother's distress, buried her face in Priya's neck. "I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered, her small arms wrapping tightly around Priya's shoulders.

As Priya held her daughter, pressing a kiss to her hair, the car that had nearly struck Peehu lingered for a moment. Inside, a man's face appeared at the window, his gaze fixed on Priya and Peehu. There was a flicker of recognition, a shadow of something unspoken. But Priya, too caught up in the moment, didn't notice.

The car pulled away slowly, its engine fading into the background. Priya, her heart still racing, carried Peehu back to the safety of the car. Peehu's small body felt warm against her, and Priya couldn't help but clutch her tighter.

As they drove home, the day's laughter felt distant, replaced by a quiet that lingered between them. Peehu had fallen asleep in her seat, her face serene, while Priya's mind replayed the moment over and over, her heart heavy with what could have been.

The house was still now, the laughter and chaos of the day replaced by a heavy, comforting silence. Peehu was fast asleep in her bed, her tiny form nestled beneath the blankets. Her face, soft and serene, carried no trace of the scare they'd had earlier. Priya sat beside her, unable to leave, her hands resting lightly on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, she simply watched her daughter sleep. Each rise and fall of Peehu's chest brought Priya a strange, fragile comfort. The thought of losing her, even for a fleeting second, was unbearable. Her throat tightened as she reached out to gently caress Peehu's hair, her fingers brushing against the silken strands.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the day Peehu was born. The memory was vivid, as if it had just happened yesterday. She could still feel the weight of her newborn daughter in her arms for the very first time—a warmth so delicate yet so profound it had left her trembling.

Priya remembered how Peehu's tiny fingers had curled instinctively around her own, a grip so small yet so powerful it had broken something open inside her. That day, she had cried—cried more than she ever thought possible. Tears of joy, relief, fear, and an overwhelming love she had never known until that moment.

Now, sitting in the quiet of Peehu's room, Priya's vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears again. She blinked them away, but one escaped, rolling down her cheek as she let out a trembling sigh. That memory, that singular moment of holding Peehu for the first time, was etched into her very soul.

Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to Peehu's forehead. "You're my everything," she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly. Peehu stirred slightly, her little body curling deeper into the blankets, her hand clutching at the corner of her pillow.

Priya stayed there a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. The world outside could be chaotic, uncertain, even cruel at times, but in this room, in this moment, there was peace. Peehu was her anchor, her reason to keep moving forward, no matter how heavy the burdens she carried.

Finally, Priya stood, wiping her cheeks and straightening her posture. She glanced down at her daughter one last time before turning off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a comforting darkness. As she closed the door behind her, she whispered a silent promise to herself: she would protect Peehu, no matter what it took.

Because in Peehu, Priya saw not just her child but the life and love she'd fought so hard to keep alive. The towering cityscape stretched around Ram like an unfamiliar maze, its heights oppressive and alien. The glittering lights of the high-rises felt cold, their glow distant and impersonal. Everything about this place unsettled him—the strange streets, the muted hum of traffic far below, the walls of his apartment that seemed to close in with each passing moment.

Seeking an escape, he wandered out to the balcony. The cool night air greeted him, brushing against his face as he leaned on the railing. For a moment, his eyes darted over the sprawling city. From this height, the world seemed eerily quiet, almost serene, as if the chaos of the day had retreated to the shadows. Yet, the silence only amplified his sense of detachment. This wasn't his world. It wasn't home.

Then, instinctively, his gaze lifted to the sky. And there it was—the endless expanse of stars, glimmering like familiar friends scattered across the dark canvas. Unlike the towering structures and busy streets, the sky above hadn't changed. It was the same sky he had looked at as a boy, the same one he had watched during sleepless nights of ambition, love, and regret.

A small, wistful smile touched his lips as he focused on the stars. They twinkled, steady and unyielding, as if they too had weathered the weight of time and memory. For the first time that evening, he felt a faint sense of calm.