The morning sunrays peeked softly through the windows, awaking people from their dreams to begin their day. Birds chirped melodically, flying in groups that formed a V in the sky—perhaps they were on their way to Victory? Who knows? But as for the humans, the day was just starting; the sound of people stretching wearily could be heard in the distance. The city was just waking up.

Ishi, who was sprawled messily across the bed, groggily opened her eyes. She rolled onto her side, her eyes searching for the person she usually slept clinging to: her mother. She closed her eyes again and reached her arm toward her mother's side of the bed. It was still warm, meaning she had only just gotten up. Ishi heard a faint snore before she could drift back into a deep sleep. She moved to the other side, her eyes half-open, and saw her father wrapped snugly in his blue blanket.

He was sleeping soundly on his side, his face toward her, snoring evenly. She rolled toward him and settled herself inside his blanket, her back resting against his stomach. She mimicked his curved shape, wrapping herself within the reach of his hand, and slept contentedly, like a baby in a womb. He didn't wake up—he never did. She fell asleep again, feeling his warmth as she always did. She loved sleeping clung to him. He was rarely there when she actually fell asleep, but she would always find him in the hushed stillness of the morning.

The morning continued with low noises here and there, signaling the awakening of lives and a sense of continuity. Ishi's senses eventually stirred to her mother's sweet voice. She was now resting her head on her father's arm, clinging to his stomach. Her little arms reached just to the edge of his belly, while his arm wrapped protectively around her, keeping her close to his chest. Her father stirred slowly at the sound of the voice, shifting slightly and opening his eyes. He rubbed her back and patted her cheek affectionately, motioning for her to wake up.

Ishi opened her eyes, looking at her world: her mother and father both beside her, waking her up tenderly. As she rolled onto her back, her mother scooped her up into her lap, showering her with kisses and murmuring morning wishes.

"Uth gayi meri gudiya?" Her mother pecked her cheek while settling her in her lap. Ishi frowned slightly, fresh from her heavy sleep, her little hands reaching up to rub her eyes against the bright morning light.

(My doll is awake?)

"Aankhen rub nahi krte baccha," her mother whispered, gently guiding her hands down and pecking her cheek again.

(Don't rub your eyes baby)

"Subha ho gayi meri ladoo, neend puri ho gayi?" she asked, her eyes beaming radiantly with love. Ishi nodded, smiling fully now, clinging to her mother and not wanting to move.

(It's morning my pampered princess, had enough sleep?)

"Chalo abhi, get up and brush," her mother prompted, standing up. Ishi simply made grabby hands, wanting to be carried. Her mother shook her head silently, grabbed both of Ishi's hands, and pulled her up. Wrapping an arm around Ishi's shoulder, she guided her toward the washroom.

Soon, Ishi was ready with her hair tied in two neat pigtails. Her crisp, ironed uniform made her look like the perfect student she was, all thanks to her mother. Her mother passed her a glass of chocolate milk and a couple of pieces of toast—a combination Ishi loved dearly. Her father was still sleeping, having returned late from work to snatch the much-needed rest that would prepare him to face the day. Ishi finished her breakfast happily and gathered her backpack as an auto-rickshaw honked outside, a neighborhood kid calling her name aloud. Her mother quickly snapped the tiffin lid shut and tucked it into the bag while Ishi slipped on her socks and shoes.

"Ishiiii!" the voice called again, making her rush; school was waiting. Her mother helped her with her shoes and grabbed her hand to walk her to the auto. Ishi quickly ran back inside to peck her sleeping father's cheek, whispering a quick "bye," and then ran back out. She settled into the auto while her mother handed her backpack and tiffin to the driver, who hung them in their usual spots. Her mother waved cheerfully until they were out of sight.

Ishi ran around the school corridors with her friends as lunch break started. They found an open spot and sat in a circle, their tiffins spread out in front of them. They enjoyed the meal, playfully sneaking bites from each other's food. Amidst jokes, gossip, and yummy snacks, Ishi was recharged for the rest of the day. As Ishi hummed poems, made crafts, and recited her tables up to ten, the school day finally came to an end.

The sun was still shining brilliantly in the mid-afternoon sky. Kids poured out of their classes in lines, running wildly in all directions once they cleared the school gate. Some hung from poles, while others ran around catching one last game before their transport arrived.

Ishi was playing with her friends, waiting for her autowale uncle, completely engrossed in the game until she heard someone calling her name. She looked toward the source instinctively, and a massive smile lit up her face. She ran toward him and launched herself at her father—her Papa. He picked her up and kissed her cheek. She grinned ecstatically; he rarely came to pick her up. Their time at home was limited because he was always busy with work, often coming in late and leaving early. She only saw him during those random mornings when she could snuggle up to him.

She waved to her friends triumphantly as her father carried her to the car. He put her down and pressed the button on the keys, which made a sharp beeping sound as the car unlocked. He opened the door and motioned for Ishi to sit in the passenger seat, which she did proudly. She loved it when her father picked her up in the car; her friends would often envy her, telling her how nice her father was and how lucky she was not to ride in the overcrowded auto. Ishi's little heart swelled with pride and admiration.

Midway through the journey, they stopped at an ice cream parlor Ishi had spotted from the window. Her father asked for her favorite flavor and handed her the treat. They ate together while Ishi excitedly recounted her day; he listened, humming and nodding from time to time. Once they finished, the journey resumed, and they made their way home.

The day went on. Her father went back out after dropping her off, and she played around the house, hovering near her mother. Ishi sat engrossed in cartoons, eating the delicious evening snacks her mother had prepared. But at one word from her mother, she sat down to study. Time passed as Ishi studied and her mother prepared dinner.

As the savory aroma lingered in the air, Ishi instinctively made her way to the kitchen to see what her mother had cooked. Her mother served her hot roti and sabji along with rice, dal, and salad, making sure she ate everything. With a blissfully full tummy, Ishi scrambled back to the living room, turning on the TV. Her mother eventually sat beside her, watching together while they waited for her father.

Ishi was focused on the screen when she heard a loud yawn from her mother. She was clearly hungry, but her father was still nowhere to be seen.

"Mommy, papa ko call krke bolo na, aapko bhuk lagi hogi na," Ishi said, handing her mother the phone before quickly returning to her show.

(Mom, call papa and ask him to come, you must be hungry)

"Ha beta, already do baar kiya hai aate hi honge," her mother replied, muffling another yawn. She reached for the phone again, wondering whether to dial.

(I have already called twice, he muct be coming)

"Firse karlo Maa," Ishi urged, her eyes never leaving the screen. Her mother pressed the call button. The line kept ringing but went unanswered. Her mother glanced at the clock and sighed heavily. They watched the show for a little longer.

(Try again Mom)

"Ishi, it's time to sleep. Turn off the TV," her mother ordered. It was 10:00 PM—her non-negotiable bedtime. Ishi tried to whine, but one firm look from her mother was enough. She stood up, snapped off the television, and climbed into bed while her mother laid out a fresh sheet. As Ishi lay on the soft mattress, her mother turned off the lights and patted her head soothingly until she fell asleep.

Ishi was sleeping in the quiet bedroom when her eyebrows furrowed as a noise reached her ears. She turned over, still mostly asleep, but the noise persisted. Her eyes remained closed, but her mind slowly registered the voices. It was her parents, speaking much louder than usual. She frowned, trying to ignore the muffled conversation, but the voices rose again. It was her father's voice, then her mother's—it was an argument. Ishi kept her eyes tightly clenched, wanting to hear nothing. But her heartbeat quickened automatically at the shouting. There was silence for a moment, and her heart calmed. Then came a sound—a loud, metallic crash of a utensil being thrown. Then another.

Ishi jolted awake, her little heart throbbing violently. She didn't want to hear more, and she didn't dare walk toward the kitchen. Tears rolled involuntarily down her cheeks. Then came another sound: CRACK. The sound of a slap.

Ishi's heart seemed to stop for a second; she felt paralyzed by fear. The sounds continued to tear through her, her mind forming the worst scenarios. Tears kept rolling down silently. Ishi stood up noiselessly, walked out to the balcony, and sat on a chair, looking up at the sky. She tried to focus on the stars. Maybe counting them would stop her mind from thinking. The voices were still echoing in the background, but they were more suppressed out here. She sat there motionlessly, letting her tears flow, not fully understanding what was happening.

Ishi remained on the balcony, the cold night air brushing against her skin. It was much calmer than the storm brewing inside her eight-year-old heart. She had done this before, but that was months ago. She had thought it was just a nightmare—something she had imagined and forgotten while living her happy life. But did every little kid go through the same nightmare? She wondered desperately.

She was startled from her thoughts when a slightly trembling hand touched her shoulder. She knew who it was, but didn't dare look up. Her mother sat beside her silently, pulled her closer, and wiped her tears. Ishi knew that tomorrow, her mother would make an excuse—that she had tripped or gotten hurt while doing chores—and claim she was fine. But was she?

"Let's go inside baby," her mother said. Her voice was as soft as ever, but there was a slight tremble in it, as if she were strenuously suppressing her own tears. Little Ishi was no longer so little that she didn't notice, but she chose to ignore it.

"Why Maa?" she asked, gathering her courage.

"It's cold gudiya," her mother said, rubbing her back. "We need to shield ourselves."

(It's cold doll)

"Didn't Kanha ji always shield us Maa?" Ishi asked. Her mother had no answer. She looked ahead at nothing in particular. Ishi rested her head on her mother's shoulder and closed her eyes, silencing her aching heart from asking anything more.