It had been a week since Adityraj last visited the Vardhan mansion. Arundhita was elegantly dressed in a beautiful saree, a delicate chain gracing her neck, bangles adorning her wrists, and her hair styled in a messy bun.
Later, Arundhita found herself in a classroom, surrounded by the joyful chirping of children. Her thoughts, however, drifted to Aditya, wondering about his whereabouts.
"Ma'am, look at this, what Varun has done!" a little girl exclaimed, tugging at Arundhita's pallu. The girl's cute face was comically marked with pen. A small chuckle escaped Arundhita's lips before she could suppress it.
"Oh dear, that's not good. What's your name?" she asked the girl, who was now pouting in indignation. "Anchija," came the reply, her voice adorable, tinged with a hint of frustrated anger.
"Varun, come here! Look at this. You shouldn't behave this way with girls. Now, apologize," she patiently coaxed the boy, helping him understand his mistake.
Time passed quickly, and finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of class and time for the children to leave.
"Miss Arundhita, thank you so much for substituting today," said a young woman in a saree, her pale neck adorned with a mangalsutra and her hairline marked with vermilion. "Oh, it's quite alright, Sweta ji. The children are sweet, and it's truly a pleasure to be with them."
After a brief, pleasant chat, Arundhita went to the staff room to collect her belongings and complete her biometrics.
She had just passed the school gate when she overheard a man's voice say, "Come on, sweety, your mom sent me to pick you up." She saw Anchija standing near the gate, while a man with a tanned, slightly scratched face stood before her, luring her with a chocolate bar.
Arundhita dashed towards them, gently pulling the little girl behind her. "What are you doing? Who are you, Mr.?" she demanded, glaring, as the man seemed taken aback by the sudden interruption.
"I'm her uncle; she's coming home with me. Right, Anchija?" he said, looking at the girl and subtly twirling the chocolate. Arundhita swiftly intercepted, refusing the bar on the child's behalf, and declared with utmost confidence, "Oh really? How strange, I didn't realize my daughter had an uncle!"
The man looked baffled, his face paling with a flicker of fear. He stumbled back as the sound of someone rushing towards them grew louder. Arundhita turned to see a woman hurrying their way, and within seconds, the man had fled.
The woman was young and beautiful, dressed in a short kurti and jeans, a bag slung over her shoulder, her bangles clinking with her movements.
Her breath came in huffs as she reached them. Arundhita observed the woman, thinking, 'She looks decent.' "I'm sorry, I got caught in traffic," the woman gasped, her voice thin, still breathing heavily.
Noticing Arundhita, elegantly dressed, presumably a teacher, with her daughter peeking from behind her, the woman realized Arundhita was staring at her with a confused expression. "I'm Prachi, Prachi Rajval—Anchija's mother." Arundhita remained unconvinced, looking to the child, who gently peeped out.
"That's Mom, teacher," Anchija said in her baby voice, her doe eyes blinking as if reinforcing the truth. "You're late again," she pouted, moving towards Prachi, her arms outstretched for her mother to pick her up.
Prachi noticed dry tear marks and quickly wiped them with a handkerchief pinned to Anchija's uniform. "How could you be so careless, Prachi ji? Don't you know what kind of people are out there?" Arundhita's brows furrowed, her voice filled with concern.
"I—I'm sorry, Ma'am, I got stuck in traffic coming to the school. But thank you so much for looking after her," Prachi apologized. Then, a small voice piped up, "Mommy, Miss Arundhita saved me from a bad uncle; he was giving me chocolate."
Anchija's words deepened the guilt in Prachi's heart. Her face showed a mix of hurt and fear, and noticing this, Arundhita placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I'm Arundhita, a teacher here. I teach 4th and 5th graders, but if you'd like, I can look after Anchija," she offered. Prachi looked at her, offering a small smile before inviting her for a meal as a gesture of gratitude.
After some thought, Arundhita finally agreed, and all of them headed to a restaurant.
They settled at a table and ordered some food.
As they ate, Prachi fed Anchija with her hands before Arundhita broke the silence.
"She's too cute, and though she's a bit mischievous, that's perfectly normal for a child," Arundhita said. Prachi smiled at her words.
"Managing a child with work can be tiring, but it's not so bad," Prachi remarked, admiring her little daughter whose mouth was full of sweets. Arundhita watched the mother and daughter, and a memory of her own mother briefly crossed her mind.
Prachi looked quite young to be a mother, probably in her twenties. Is she a single mother? Arundhita wondered.
"Are you alone? I mean, where's the child's father, if I may ask?" Arundhita inquired carefully. Prachi fell silent at the question, then quickly masked it with a polite, small smile.
"He—he doesn't know about us. It was six years ago that I decided to keep Anchija," she said, her eyes fixed on the vessel, as if recalling past memories. Arundhita, sensing the sensitive nature of the topic, quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. "By the way, has anyone ever told you that you've raised your daughter very well? She's a quick learner." Both women chuckled, looking at the little child between them.
As their meal concluded, they went their separate ways. Arundhita headed to her car, while Prachi took her daughter and rode her scooter back to their apartment.
.
.
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To be continued.