I stood in the corner of the lavish living room, my heart heavy as I watched my son, Aashivik, interact with Chandani. She was just a girl—yet the way he looked at her was as if she was his life his everything, she could not be just a girl, she was special to him. I could see it in the way he hovered near her, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and protectiveness. "Careful, bacha," he called out softly. "You will hurt yourself. Anshi, hold her hand properly."
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