Author's POV
The morning started like any other. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The little girl, wide-eyed and full of energy, bounded out of bed, eager to start the day. Her mom, a whirlwind of warmth and laughter, greeted her with a hug and a kiss . But today, instead of her mother's laugh . She heard a muffled thud from downstairs, then nothing. A strange silence settled over the house.
Ishqi padded down the stairs, her favorite teddy bear clutched in her hand. Her father was not home, he went on a business trip . It was only her and her mother in the house. The front door stood open, a draft swirling papers on the kitchen table. Her mother's purse lay abandoned by the door, a lipstick tube rolled out onto the floor.
"Mommy?" Ishqi called out, her voice small and trembling. No answer.
She found her mother in the living room, sprawled on the rug, a dark stain blooming on her favorite floral dress. Ishqi's eyes widened, her teddy bear slipping from her grasp. She reached out a hesitant finger, then recoiled as if burned.
The day stretched before her, long and empty. The house, once filled with her mother's laughter and the clatter of dishes, now echoed with an eerie silence. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of wind, sent shivers down Ishqi's spine. Blood everywhere. She didn't know what to do.
A neighbor, drawn by the open door, found Ishqi huddled by her mother, tears tracing paths down her dusty cheeks. The woman's arms offered a clumsy comfort, but Ishqi only clung tighter to her teddy bear, its stuffing now damp with her tears.
The day blurred into a procession of somber faces and hushed voices. Police cars, flashing lights, and strangers in suits invaded her home, their presence a stark contrast to the peaceful chaos that had once defined it. Ishqi watched them through the window, her reflection a pale ghost in the glass.
As the day waned, the house fell into darkness. The neighbor stayed, her presence a flickering candle in the enveloping gloom. Ishqi, curled up on the living room sofa, clutched her teddy bear, its stuffing now flat and misshapen. In the distance, a siren wailed, a mournful counterpoint to the ticking of the grandfather clock.
She was all alone in the living room.
The room, once filled with the scent of lavender and freshly baked cookies, now hangs heavy with the silence that followed her mother's sudden death .Toys lie scattered across the floor, a testament to a life abruptly halted. Ishqi's lower lip trembles. She reaches out a small hand, tracing the outline of a faded photograph on her nightstand. It shows her, a toddler, beaming with delight as her mother swings her high in the air.
A sob escapes her throat, a tiny, lost sound swallowed by the emptiness. Tears well up in her eyes, blurring the edges of the photograph.
She curls up on the sofa, clutching the worn teddy bear her mother had given her on her first birthday. The bear, once a source of comfort, now feels limp and lifeless in her arms.
Ishqi whispers, her voice barely audible, "Mommy?"
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