chapter 1

A soft, unfocused sound stirred the morning stillness, a tiny hum of awakening. What's that racket? So early? Anny's eyelids, heavy with sleep, fluttered open to a startlingly bright world. "Aaa... so bright....." she murmured, the protest quickly giving way to a dawning recognition. "Mommy!... Daddy!"

A sleepy grunt answered her call. The room, she now registered with wide, innocent eyes, was a whimsical landscape of pink – dozens of balloons bobbing and swaying in the gentle currents of morning light.

"Happy birthday, Anny baby," a voice like spun moonlight whispered close to her ear. Her mother's face, illuminated by the golden rays filtering through the curtains, was ethereal. Her light hair seemed to shimmer, a perfect frame for eyes the color of rich rubies, mirroring the delicate earrings and the tiny hairpin that held a stray lock in place. Anny sensed, even in her limited understanding, a beauty that went beyond the visual, a gentle strength that radiated like a soft warmth.

"Happy birthday, Anny," a deeper voice rumbled beside her, the usual firmness softened to a tender cadence. Her father's dark grey eyes, crinkled at the corners with a loving smile, held a warmth that promised unwavering security. His smile, she instinctively knew, could chase away any shadow.

They gathered her between them, their hands sure and comforting. A small, triumphant sound escaped her. "Mu... m... da... d."

It was a moment etched in the soft folds of her nascent memory – their faces, clear and distinct, filled with an overwhelming tenderness. The pure, unguarded joy that bloomed on their features at her simple declaration was a radiant sunrise.

"It's your very first birthday, little one," her mother crooned, her voice infused with a playful excitement. "And guess what? Everyone's coming to celebrate! Grandpa, Grandma, and even a few other special people who are so excited to finally meet their little sis." Little sis? The unfamiliar words sparked a flicker of curiosity in Anny's mind.

"They'll be here before you know it, little Anny-bug," her father added, his voice a comforting rumble against her back as he gently shifted her in his arms. A delighted giggle bubbled up from her chest, a joyful sound that echoed in the pink-tinged haven of her first birthday morning.

The sharp whump-whump-whump that suddenly ripped through the gentle hum of the morning made Anny's small body stiffen in her father's embrace. Her wide, innocent eyes, still soft with the remnants of sleep, darted around the unfamiliar pink landscape of her birthday room. What on earth is that racket?

A delighted chuckle escaped her mother, her ruby earrings catching the sunlight. "Looks like your grandpa couldn't wait!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Intrigued despite her initial startle, Anny craned her neck towards the large window, her gaze magnetically drawn to the increasingly insistent thrumming. And then, framed against the brilliant blue of the Indian sky, she saw it – a sleek, silver dragonfly suspended in mid-air, its powerful rotors a mesmerizing blur. "Helicopter!" The word tumbled out, a breathless whisper of pure, unadulterated awe.

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