Radha stepped off the autorickshaw, her six-year-old daughter Meera bouncing alongside her. The bustling street of the market was a cacophony of honking horns, and howling hawkers. Radha fumbled through her purse for change, apologizing to the driver. Just as she handed over the crumpled bills, she heard the sound that would freeze her heart.

"Meera, stop!"

But it was too late. Meera had darted into the street, her laughter echoing above the noise as she ran toward the park on the other side. Radha’s eyes widened, her pulse quickened. She couldn’t drop everything to chase after her — not before settling with the rickshaw driver. The few seconds it took to finish the transaction felt like an eternity. By the time Radha spun around, her daughter was already a blur of pink, bobbing through the turbulent traffic.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Meera run, weaving through people like she was playing a game of tag. "Meera!" She shouted again, her voice trembling with fear and anxiety. But the little girl was too far, at least a hundred meters ahead, completely oblivious to the danger around her.

Radha’s feet felt like they were sinking into the ground as she tried to run, panic gnawing at her insides. The traffic moved like a slow but menacing tide, vehicles jostling for space in the chaos. She could see Meera at the edge of the road, teetering on the brink of disaster, and all Radha could do was push her way through the crowd.

A loud screeching of brakes pierced the air, followed by a crash. The street went silent, a heavy silence that weighed on Radha like a boulder. People murmured, their voices hushed and tense.

"A little girl… under the car."

Radha’s blood ran cold. Her breath caught in her throat as she fought through the mass of onlookers, dread clawing at her every step. Tears blurred her vision, her legs weakening with every second.

“No. Please, no.” The words were barely a whisper.

When she reached the scene, her heart shattered. There was a car, its front crumpled, and under it, a tiny shoe that looked far too familiar. A crowd had gathered, whispering and pointing. Radha’s vision swam as she struggled to comprehend the nightmare before her. She felt the world closing in, the edges darkening, her own heartbeat thunderous in her ears.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her daughter — standing just a few feet away from the wreck, confused but unharmed. Meera’s big brown eyes blinked up at her, puzzled by the commotion.

Radha rushed towards Meera, piercing the crowd, and pulled her into a tight embrace, her arms encircling her daughter with a fierce, desperate tenderness. It was not just a hug but a merging of souls, as if by holding her close enough, she could shield her from all the fragility of the world.

After all, a hug is always the right size!