Sitara-Morning

The car screeched violently to a halt, tires biting against the gravel of Sitara's narrow lane. Viren's head lurched forward, and Anvi clutched the seat in front of her, heart racing.

"Bhaiya!" Anvi gasped, turning to her brother. "Itni tez brake kyu maari?"

But before Arnav could respond, her eyes followed his — fixed on the road ahead.

There, just a few feet away, stood a thin little girl, hair messy, clothes torn, her small frame trembling. She had collided with the car in her desperate run. For a second, she froze like a deer caught in headlights.

Arnav immediately shoved the car door open. "Oh my god...!" He rushed out, Anvi and Viren quickly following.

The girl stumbled back, clutching her elbow where the skin had scraped.

Viren's gaze fell on her — and for a fleeting second, his breath caught. Those eyes. Green. Familiar. Hauntingly familiar. His heart gave a painful twist.

No... he told himself silently, it can't be. This can't be her.

He blinked, trying to shake it off, his throat tightening as his gaze lingered. The same shade — soft moss green — but dulled now, empty, drained of life. He looked at her pale face, her frail body, the trembling hands clutching a small boy. She's too young... too thin... too broken.

His mind screamed that it wasn't possible, but his chest ached with something deeper — a father's instinct clawing at the walls of denial.

Arnav followed his gaze. His own eyes locked with the girl's for a moment. And something inside him stilled.

There was something about those eyes — his eyes. That exact shade, that exact shape. But there was no spark in them. No innocence, no light — just exhaustion, fear, and a wisdom no child should carry.

A pang shot through his heart, sharp and unfamiliar. He didn't understand it — didn't know why — but something in him wanted to protect her. To take her pain away.

The girl darted across the road suddenly, bare feet slapping the dirt, rushing to the little boy sitting on the opposite side, crying softly.

"Ruko! Babu, ruk jao!" Anvi's voice rang out, panicked.

But the girl didn't stop. Her entire being seemed to move with one instinct — protect. 

On the opposite side of the road, a little boy sat crying, tears streaking his dusty cheeks. His knee was scraped badly, blood trickling down his skin. The girl threw herself down beside him, wrapping her frail arms around his tiny body.

The boy whimpered, "Jiji... dard ho raha hai...darr lag raha hai"

The girl, ignoring her own bruises, pulled him closer, rocking him like a mother shielding her child from the world. Her voice, shaky but protective, broke through the dawn air.

Her thin frame trembled, her wide eyes darting between Viren, Arnav, and Anvi as if they were hunters and she the cornered prey.

Her lips stammered in panic.

"Maaf kar dijiye... please hame jaane dijiye. Galti se mera bhai aapki gaadi ke saamne aa gaya tha. Hume maaf kariye... please hame jaane dijiye."

Her arms tightened around Aarush, clutching him so fiercely that his small body almost disappeared in her embrace.

Seeing her fear-stricken face, Arnav felt his heart twist. He crouched slowly, lowering himself to her level, his tone soft and steady.

"Koi baat nahi, bacche. Hum log kuch nahi kar rahe... please shant ho jao."

But as his gaze settled on her, his stomach knotted. Her kurti was stained with fresh blood near the abdomen, faint scrapes ran across her arms and legs. The collision had been minor — thanks to his brakes — but still, she was hurt.

"Beta," Arnav said gently, "tumhe hospital jaana hoga....Aur.....Tum yaha kya kar rahi ho? Tumhare mummy papa kaha hain?"

The girl's lips quivered, but her voice came out blunt, raw.

"Mere mummy papa nahi hai."

The words cut through the morning like glass. Viren stiffened where he stood, and beside him, both Anvi and Arnav felt a pang deep in their chest.

Anvi lowered herself too, her voice trembling with concern.

"Beta, yaha aas paas hospital hai... toh hum log ke saath chal chalo."

Tentatively, she reached to hold Avyukta's hand. But the girl flinched, shook her head violently, and with a wince pushed herself up from the ground.

"Isski koi zarurat nahi hai," she whispered, brushing dirt from her kurti. "Aur sorry... meri wajah se aapki gaadi ko nuksaan."

Anvi straightened, eyes stinging. Arnav too rose slowly, refusing to back down.

"Please beta, hospital chal chalo. Tumhe chot lagi hai."

The girl's jaw tightened. "Nahi... zyada nahi lagi hai. Koi baat nahi."

But as she bent to lift Aarush in her frail arms, her eyes froze. A thin trickle of blood ran from a scratch on his forehead. Her own pain forgotten, her entire being panicked.

"Sir! Sir please!" she cried, voice breaking. "Hame hospital le chaliye. Mere bhai ko bahut chot lagi hai!"

Her desperation pierced through Viren like a knife. Quietly, almost reverently, he stepped closer and placed a steady hand on her shaking shoulder.

"Beta... hum le chal rahe hain. Tum ghabrao mat. Usse sirf thodi si chot lagi hai. Tumhe zyada lagi hai... usko please godh se utar do, ya mujhe de do."

But the girl shook her head furiously, hugging Aarush tighter as though the world was waiting to snatch him away.

"Mujhe nahi lagi! Isse lagi hai! Please chaliye hospital!"

Arnav stood frozen, watching her. His chest ached. This little girl, battered and bleeding, was terrified for her brother over herself. That kind of love... it was rare. It was pure. And he silently admired her strength even as his own throat tightened.

Anvi stepped closer, her voice hushed but urgent.

"Baccha... hum log yaha pehli baar aaye hain. Tumhe koi hospital pata hai toh batao."

Before the girl could answer, a familiar voice cut in from the side. Kaka, the dhaba owner, came hurrying over, wiping his hands on a gamcha.

"Malik... yaha aas paas koi aspatal nahi milega aapko. Haan... lekin sarkari school mein kuch doctor log aaye hain. Waha le jaiye inn bacchon ko."

Arnav's eyes widened. Maan. He remembered instantly — his trip Without wasting a second, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

The line barely rang before Maan's voice came through, worried.

"Bhaiya? Itni subah-subah call kar rahe ho... kya hua? Sab theek hai na?"

"Maan," Arnav said hurriedly, "don't panic. Jaldi bata... tu jis school mein medical camp set up kar raha hai, uski exact location kya hai? Apni live location bhej abhi ke abhi."

"Thik hai bhejta hoon, lekin hua kya hai—"

"I'll explain when I reach. Tu stress mat le," Arnav cut him off, already sliding back into the car.

Within moments, Viren, Arnav, and Anvi had settled back into the car with the children. Aarush still sat trembling in Avyukta's lap, hiccupping between cries. She rocked him back and forth, whispering desperately against his hair.

"Shhh... Aaru... bas thodi der mein dard thik ho jayega. Baccha, please mat ro..."

Aarush's tiny voice cracked through sobs.

"Jiji... bahut dard ho raha hai... aur meri wajah se aapko chot lag gayi. Sorry..."

His apology broke into hiccups and louder tears.

Avyukta's own wounds throbbed, but she ignored them, brushing his forehead gently.

"Nahi baccha, kuch nahi hua. Tu bas chup ho ja... bas thodi der aur, phir sab theek."

As the car sped through Sitara's empty dawn roads, Arnav gripped the steering wheel tight. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror — to the girl cradling her brother like he was her entire world.

The car sped down the empty Sitara roads, headlights cutting through the fading night. The silence inside was heavy, filled only with Aarush's soft cries and Avyukta's trembling attempts to calm him.

Anvi sat beside her, unable to tear her eyes away. Her heart twisted painfully. The sight — this small girl holding her brother as if the world were against them — broke something deep inside her.

For a moment, the chaos around her blurred. In her mind, faces flickered — faces she'd never seen but somehow could feel. Her new siblings. The ones she didn't even know existed until hours ago. Were they out there too, scared, hurt, abandoned on some dark road just like these two?

Her chest tightened. She bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the tears burning her eyes.

Anger. Pain. Helplessness. It all came crashing down together. How could the world be so cruel? How could her own father create so much suffering, so much brokenness?

She glanced at Viren through the rearview mirror — his face pale, haunted — and had to look away before the anger swallowed her whole.

Her gaze returned to Avyuktha and Aarush, and this time, she reached out quietly, resting a trembling hand over the boy's small back. He flinched, then stilled under her touch.

"It's okay, baccha," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Sab theek ho jayega..."

But even as she said it, a bitter ache rose in her chest. Because deep down, she wasn't sure if anything could ever be "theek" again.

The car screeched to a halt outside the gates of the government school. The early morning light had just begun to spread, bathing the dusty building in a pale orange glow. Volunteers in white coats hurried across the yard, carrying boxes of medicines and bandages. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and chalk dust.

Arnav jumped out first, rushing around to open the back door.

"Chalo, bacchon... andar chalte hain."

But Avyukta, still clutching Aarush tightly, shook her head. Her eyes darted nervously around — unfamiliar faces, white coats, strange voices — everything looked dangerous.

"Kuch nahi hoga... bas doctor uncle dekh lenge, thodi der mein Aaru theek ho jayega," Anvi coaxed gently, stretching her hand toward her.

Avyukta pressed Aarush closer, whispering, "Aaru... thoda aur sah le, bas thoda sa..." Then, without meeting anyone's eyes, she climbed down carefully, wincing as pain shot up her legs.

Viren's throat tightened. That sight — her frail frame bent under the weight of her brother, her trembling steps, her kurti stained with blood — clawed at his chest. He wanted to reach out, to take them both into his arms, but his hands froze midway.

No... no, this can't be her.

His gaze locked on her eyes again — green, exactly the same shade that haunted him for years. His heart stuttered painfully. The same eyes... But his mind refused. It can't be my daughter. My daughter can't be in this condition... not like this. Not so vulnerable, not so broken.

Yet something deep inside — something beyond logic — stirred restlessly. Each tremble of her lips, each shaky breath she took, felt like it was his own. He didn't understand why every tear in her eye burned his chest, why her voice made his hands tremble.

Just then, a familiar voice rang from the corridor.

"Bhaiya!"

Maan came jogging out, his stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, a volunteer ID pinned to his coat. His eyes widened as he saw the two bloodied children.

"Kya... kya hua inhe?"

Before Arnav could speak, Avyukta stepped back instinctively, clutching Aarush tighter.

"Nahi... hume kuch nahi chahiye... bas aap please iski chot dekh lijiye, please," she pleaded, voice raw with panic.

Her words cracked through the air. Maan froze. His gaze flicked to Arnav, confused.

Arnav's tone softened instantly. "Beta... ye log bura nahi karte. Bas check karenge taaki dard kam ho jaye. Tumhe bhi chot lagi hai..."

But Avyukta shook her head, fiercely, desperately. "Mujhe nahi... sirf usko dekh lo."

The selflessness in her words hit Arnav like a wave. His throat tightened, eyes burning. This little girl... broken, bleeding... still only worried about her brother.

For a brief second, his gaze shifted to Anvi. She stood frozen beside him, eyes glistening.

Watching Avyukta cradle Aarush so fiercely twisted something inside her — it mirrored everything she was terrified of. Faces flashed in her mind — her half-siblings she hadn't met, didn't know, but could suddenly feel. Were they out there too? Lost? Hurt? Alone?

Her heart clenched, helplessness clawing at her chest. She wanted to reach out, to help, but guilt and anger tangled inside her like thorns.

Arnav looked at her — her trembling lips, her clenched fists — and a cold realization crept in. In trying to save one pair of children, am I losing my own? The thought cut deep, almost unbearable. He didn't know why this girl's pain felt so personal, but every tear in her eye made him ache like a father watching his child in distress.

Maan crouched low, trying to keep his voice steady, careful. He was just a student — not yet a doctor — but compassion came easy to him.

"Arre champ," he said softly to Aarush, forcing a reassuring smile, "dikhana zara... main sirf safai kar dunga, dard kam ho jayega."

Aarush sniffled, clinging to Avyukta's kurti. She pulled him closer afraid of the kind strangers. Her mind screamed danger looking at their unfamiliar faces and she clutched aarush to her chest as if to hide him from the world.

Maan looked up at Arnav, silently asking for help. Arnav crouched beside the girl.

"Beta, doctor uncle kuch nahi karenge bina tumhari permission ke. Tum uske saath hi raho. Aur humlog bhi hai na tumhare sath."

Anvi bent down too, pulling out a biscuit. "Dekho Aaru, agar tum dikhayoge toh yeh biscuit tumhara."

Aarush hesitated, peeking through tears. "Sach?"

Anvi nodded gently. "Bilkul sach."

Avyukta's eyes flickered between them all — strangers, yet not unkind. Finally, she loosened her grip a little and whispered against Aarush's ear,

"Main yahin hoon, pakka. Kuch nahi hoga."

Reluctantly, Aarush let Maan clean his forehead. Maan's hands were steady, practiced from hours of training but careful like a big brother's touch.

"Bas chhoti si kharoch hai," he said lightly. "Dekha? Tum toh hero nikle."

Aarush blinked up at him, surprised. "Hero?"

"Bilkul. Hero Aaru," Maan grinned, placing a tiny bandage with a flourish.

Anvi clapped softly. "Wow, hero saab!"

Arnav exhaled, relief washing over his face.

But Viren — he didn't move. He just stood there, watching the girl who refused to cry for herself, who flinched at kindness, who shielded her brother with her entire body.

His chest ached. Every instinct in him screamed mine, but his mind kept pushing it away.

This can't be her. My daughter can't have eyes this scared, hands this bruised. My children were meant to be safe...

Yet the sight of her — thin, blood-streaked, trembling yet unyielding — burned itself into him. He couldn't look away.

And in the back of his mind, a quiet whisper rose — one he wasn't ready to face yet.

What if she is?.........

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