Diya

After a long day of unpacking and settling in, I finally managed to set everything up.

I turned to my mother, who was resting on the bed, and offered, "I'll make some chai. It'll be refreshing." She gave a small nod.

Honestly, I would have never chosen to come this far from home. Small cities in Uttar Pradesh didn't offer the kind of advanced healthcare my mother needed. Her condition had worsened over the years.

Her muscles had grown weak, and no doctor had yet managed to uncover the root cause of her illness.

The plan was simple, to find a doctors for her treatment and hopefully, get her walking again.

After my father and elder brother passed away in an accident, it was hard for both of us to survive in this harsh world.

With the final chores wrapped up, I made my way into the small bedroom. The room was modest, part of the 1BHK apartment we had rented on the third floor.

It was hot afternoon, hinting the beginning of summer.

Drawn to the window, I pushed aside the curtain. Outside, the view was dominated by a large mansion that stood across the narrow street. It was an imposing structure, old and sprawling, its faded grandeur hinting at the wealth it had once housed.

Even in daylight, it was giving spooky vibes. It was eerily quiet, with a row of rugged wranglers parked at the gate. It felt like a haunted mansion in my books.

I wondered how it would look so terrifying in the darkness of nights.

That night, I was almost certain I heard someone crying across the street. There was a mansion there, but it seemed lifeless like even a bug wouldn't dare enter its gates.

Then, as abruptly as sound continued, it stopped.

"Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me," I muttered, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling. "Forget about it, Diya. You have tons to do tomorrow." I stammered to myself as I curled into bed, letting the embrace of sleep take over.

The next day was a whirlwind exploring unfamiliar streets, solving small challenges that come with settling in a new place. My plan was simple: I would start baking cakes again, just as I used to. Delivering them, meeting people, and building connections yes, that's how I'd settle here too.

By the evening, I'd gathered all the ingredients I needed. As I walked home, my mind buzzed with ideas for recipes.

And then I felt someone was tugging on me, when I turned around to see a small toddler following me, his tiny face twisting with fear as a playful puppy scampered behind him. Before he could burst into tears, he clung to my leg, seeking safety.

"Poor baby," I said, cradling him closer as he trembled in my arms. "No worries, bachha. It's just a cute little puppy."

His tears began to subside, but his small frame still clung to me like I was his lifeline. "Where's your mom?" I asked softly. He shook his head, his wide hazel eyes looking lost.

He must be separated from his parents. I needed to help him.

"Do you want some sweets?" I asked. His face lit up instantly, and he nodded eagerly.

I tried setting him down so we could walk, but he refused, tightening his grip around my neck. With a small sigh, I smiled and carried him.

His hazel eyes sparkled despite his distress, and his curly hair added to his adorably angelic face.

When we arrived, I asked him again, "Beta, do you know where your mom is?"

He shook his head once more.

"Where do you live?" I asked gently.

He pointed toward the street, and when I followed his finger, I froze. He was pointing directly at the haunting mansion the one that seemed abandoned and unnaturally quiet.

"That's your home?" I asked, swallowing hard.

He nodded immediately, but when I said, "Then let's go home," he shook his head.

"What's wrong? Your mom must be worried."

"I don't know where my mom is," he said in his soft, toddler voice. "I live with Papa and so many uncles."

"One of them was making me drink milk. I don't like it, so I ran away," he added with a pout.

I sighed in relief so that was why he ran off. "Okay, what's your name, beta?"

"Laksh," he replied, his tiny voice bringing a small smile to my face.

"Laksh, milk is very good for you. If you drink it, I'll give you some sweets," I offered.

His eyes brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. I handed him a glass of milk, and to my surprise, he drank it without protest.

Satisfied, he sat like a perfect little gentleman, watching me as I started baking. His curious eyes followed my every move, and when the cake was finally ready, he gasped in awe.

"Do you like it?" I asked as he took a bite.

His face lit up with pure joy, and he hugged me tightly. "It's so tasty!"

My heart fluttered at his words.

"Now, let's go, bachha. Your parents will be worried."

We walked hand-in-hand to the mansion. As we approached the massive gates, unease crept over me.

I called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

I called again, louder this time, but there was no response.

"Laksh, are you sure this is your home?"

He nodded confidently.

After a moment, the heavy doors creaked open, and a tall, muscular man dressed in black stepped out.

"Laksh, baby, come with me," he said, his deep voice surprisingly soft.

Laksh looked back at me one last time before running to him. The man scooped him up, his expression unreadable, and carried him inside.

I stood frozen, my throat dry and my heart pounding. I wanted to protest, to ask questions, but I couldn't summon the words.

The next morning, as I was busy tidying up, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Coming!" I called, brushing my hands on my apron as I hurried to answer it.

When I opened the door, Laksh was standing right in front of me.

He stood there clutching a teddy bear, one almost as big as his tiny frame. He was practically dragging it, the bear's legs flopping along the ground behind him.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Will you give me sweets again?" he asked, his puppy eyes sparkling with mischief.

How could anyone say no to that face?

"Of course," I said, smiling, "but first, tell me did you run away again?" My eyes darted around, half-expecting his father, the man from yesterday, to come storming up the path looking for him.

He shook his head firmly. "No, I didn't run away. I already drank all my milk, and my papa was really happy when I told him about you."

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his father. There was something about the way he said it that made my stomach twist not unpleasantly, but in a way I couldn't quite explain.

"You told him about me?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Laksh nodded, beaming. He hoisted the oversized teddy bear in front of him with some effort. "This is for you a thank-you gift!"

I blinked, surprised. "Did your papa ask you to give me this?"

"No," he said with an innocent shake of his head. "This is one of my favorite toys. My papa says that when someone helps you, you should give them a gift."

His smile was so bright, so pure, that it melted my heart.

"Oh my," I murmured, crouching down to his level. "Your papa is raising quite the little gentleman."

Laksh puffed out his chest proudly, and I laughed softly, my hand brushing over the teddy's soft fur.

But as I accepted the gift, a strange feeling settled in my chest. A fleeting thought crossed my mind his father must be a remarkable man, and I couldn't help but wonder about him.

Somewhere deep down, though, I felt a twinge of something unfamiliar. Jealousy? That didn't make sense. Why would I feel jealous?

"Thank you, Laksh," I said gently, pulling him into a quick hug. "Now, how about we bake something special together?"

I motioned Laksh to come inside, and he instantly launched into a flurry of stories about his day. He told me how he had drawn a picture of us together last night and proudly mentioned how he ate all his food like a "good boy."

But as he chattered away, I noticed something odd he never mentioned his mother, not even once. Every story, every detail of his little world, revolved around his father and his uncles.

"Laksh," I asked gently, "how many uncles do you have?"

He paused, scrunching his nose in thought before spreading his arms as wide as they could go. "There are a lot! I can't count. Probably a hundred... no, more!"

I couldn't help but smile at his exaggerated enthusiasm, but a part of me couldn't quite shake the strangeness of it. A hundred uncles? That didn't make sense. Then again, toddlers often made-up stories. This was probably just one of those moments, I reasoned, and let it slide.

As I continued with my chores, Laksh followed me, his cheerful chatter filling the room.

Later, when we'd played to his heart's content, he fell asleep next to me. His tiny form looked so peaceful curled up on the bed, his soft curls brushing against his forehead.

I sat beside him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. I reached out, stroking his hair softly, careful not to wake him. His teddy bear, still as big as him, had slipped from his grasp. I picked it up and placed it on the small table in front of my bed, where it sat like a silent guardian.

In the living room, Maa was watching TV, as she often did. She loved spending her evenings in front of the screen, catching up on her favorite shows.

When Laksh woke up, he gave me one of his brilliant smiles before heading home. As much as I tried to convince myself not to get too attached, it was already too late. In just two days, I felt a bond with him that I couldn't explain.

To distract myself, I got to work. I baked a few cakes and carefully packed them.

Before heading out, I took some pictures of the cakes and posted them on Instagram, hoping to attract attention and maybe even some online orders.

Later, I searched for nearby bakeries and visited them to distribute samples. I wanted to gauge their reactions and see if anyone might be interested in hiring me.

By the time I got back home, the sky had already turned dusky. Maa was in the living room, immersed in her evening prayers. It was her daily ritual, and the soft hum of her chanting brought a comforting familiarity to the house.

Tying my hair back, I turned to the kitchen to prepare dinner. We ate together and by the night, she had already gone to bed.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through my Instagram. I checked my notifications and DMs, hoping for some response to my post. But there was nothing.

With a sigh, I set my phone aside, feeling a slight twinge of disappointment. My gaze drifted to Laksh's teddy bear, sitting where I had left it on the table.

A shiver ran down my spine. For a moment, it felt like the bear's eyes were fixed on me, staring straight into my soul.

I shook my head and chuckled nervously. "You're overthinking, Diya," I muttered.

With that, I turned off the light, pulled the blanket over myself, if I think too much about it, mind will imagine more horror.