The raindrops started dancing on the tin roof of their veranda, creating a rhythmic melody that Sohan loved. To the world, she was just an eight-year-old girl, but inside her head, she was the queen of her own kingdom. Her schoolbag was her treasure chest, and her yellow umbrella was her magical shield against the sky.
"Mom, look! The clouds are making shapes," Sohan giggled, pointing at the gray horizon. Even in the gloom, she found beauty. She was a child who saw magic in puddles and stories in the wind.
Sohan's world revolved around simple joys—the smell of new pencils, the competitive chatter with her classmates about who had the best tiffin, and her dreams of becoming someone brave. She often told her father, Don, about her day, hoping he would look away from the TV for just a moment to see the spark in her eyes.
"Be careful, Sohan," Mahi called out from the kitchen, her voice laced with an anxiety she couldn't explain.
Sohan didn't notice the tremor in her mother's voice. She was too busy adjusting her school dress, feeling proud of her newfound independence. She stepped out onto the porch, the cool mist kissing her face. She felt invincible. Little did she know, the world outside her kingdom was far less kind than the stories in her books.