*CRADLE*

"Daddy! You lost again, yeah!”

The soothing voice and the glittering eyes, something for which Aryan was waiting eagerly from the last 5 minutes, was finally gifted by her.

To feel this blithe moment and sweetest curve on his 5-year old princess's face, Aryan could lose any game, any time. He knew that even though he was losing the game, he was earning the precious treasure of her smile, which seemed unique every time and filled him with a new life.

“How can someone be so pure, so cathartic, so peaceful, so soft, and so beautiful that even her presence gives solace from this distressing world? How can someone be so divine?” thought Aryan, silently thanking the one above.

“Oh no! Now see, this time I will surely defeat you Tweety!” said Aryan stoutly.

“He would never win, I know that. God, how could I be so lucky??” a thought erupted in Annie’s mind; the thought as old as her daughter’s.

Her attention was now shifted from the novel she was reading to the turning point of her life.

Aryan had always been a giver, right from the day Annie had first observed him in the college. Be it the question of giving his ever-in-demand notes, lending his favorite bike, or gifting someone a life, he had always given everything magnanimously, without a second thought about anything. He is an epitome of perfection in every field.
It had taken them both no time to fall for each other. Their relationship was a paragon of love and understanding.

“Yippee! Mumma, I won for the 8th time. Daddy lost again,” said Tweety exuberantly with bright shining eyes.

“Oh great! But now it’s the time for homework my dear, you want to make Daddy proud na?” said Annie guiding her with a smile.

“Yeah mumma!” said Tweety obediently and collected her puzzle box with a cherubic smile before stepping towards her room.

How could a guy be so generous to accept me? How can Aryan find solace in Tweety’s presence instead of castigating her? How could he marry me knowing that I was a waste? How could someone welcome an unborn life, which was a result of somebody’s uncontrolled carnal desires? How could he accept a rape victim?

Between these muddled thoughts, a tear tickled down her cheeks.

Aryan could still notice Annie’s resentful image in her eyes. He had been trying his best to cure her contrite from the anodyne of his love and care for the last five years.

Sensing her needs, Aryan took her tightly into his arms.
“She is not your blood Aryan! Not your...” something choked her voice.
Kissing her on her forehead, he determinately said,

“Shhh. Annie! Yes, she is not my blood, but she is my life, she is my guide, she is my pride, and she is my daughter.”

~Ritika Gupta