Page 5 of The Defiant Wife

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

I shove my hands into my pockets and continue down the corridor.

One month.

Then I can return to my actual life.

A life that makes sense. A life built on logic. A life free from public relations campaigns disguised as community service.

2. MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE

DIYA

Have you ever come across a man who melts your heart in ways you never thought possible?

A man who can turn the worst day of your life into something bearable just by existing?

A man so enchanting that spending time with them never feels like enough?

No? Neither have I.

At least not in the way people usually mean it. No mysterious boy. No soulmate. No grand love story. No dramatic movie moment where violins magically start playing in the background.

But I do know a group of people who fit every single one of those descriptions.

The children sitting outside my office.

I smile despite myself as laughter drifts through the half-open door. The sound is loud. Chaotic. A little destructive. And absolutely perfect.

I lean back in my chair and glance through the glass partition separating my office from the main activity room.

Rani is currently chasing Laila with a paintbrush. Laila is screaming like she's being murdered.

Jay is attempting to referee.

Keshav is encouraging the violence.

No one is listening to poor Manisha.

Which is honestly impressive considering she's been trying to get them to finish their art project for almost twenty minutes.

A burst of laughter escapes me.

Immediately, four tiny heads snap toward my office.

Caught.

The children grin. I grin back.

Then Rani waves enthusiastically before returning to her mission of painting Laila blue.

My heart does that thing it always does around them. That warm, aching squeeze. The one that reminds me why I do this. Why I fought for this place. Why every sleepless night, every taunt, every sacrifice has been worth it. Because of them. Always because of them.

People like to talk about children as though they're fragile. Broken. Damaged. Especially children who grow up without families. I've heard it all.

Poor things. Unfortunate. Unwanted. As though their lives can be summarized by what was done to them.

What people fail to understand is that children are resilient in ways most adults never manage to become. These kids have every reason to be angry at the world.