Chahat took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she looked around the group. "I understand that you are all friends," she said, her voice steady, "but friendship doesn't mean having identical opinions. Every individual has their own personality, their own way of seeing the world."
She then turned her attention toward the flustered uncle, her eyes locking onto his. "Just like my friend here," she continued, gesturing towards Tiya. "She has her own perspective. She doesn't follow something blindly just because it's the norm. She thinks for herself. And there is nothing wrong with that."
A heavy silence settled over the group as her words sank in.
Chahat's gaze didn't waver as she addressed the man directly. "The problem isn't with a girl who dresses boldly or speaks her mind without hesitation. The real issue lies with those who refuse to accept that times are changing."
The tension in the room became palpable. The man's lips pressed into a thin line, his pride visibly wounded. The elders around him exchanged glances, some with knowing smiles, others with quiet approval.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, the same elder who had encouraged Chahat earlier let out a hearty laugh. "Well said!" he declared, clapping his hands together. "It seems wisdom isn't confined to age after all!"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and Tiya shot Chahat a look filled with admiration.
The uncle, clearly displeased with the direction the conversation had taken, crossed his arms and looked away, but the discussion had already moved beyond him.
The little girl smiled gently, nodding as she listened to the conversation around her.
"Exactly, exactly! Respecting individual personalities is crucial. We should encourage it, especially in our youngsters," an elderly man said with a proud nod.
His gaze then fell on the young girl standing nearby, her presence catching his attention. Something about her demeanor intrigued him—her confidence, her clarity.
"You have an impressive way of thinking, young lady. Who are your parents?" he asked, curiosity laced in his tone.
The question made her freeze for a moment. A silence settled around her as she lowered her eyes, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. But it lasted only a second. She straightened her shoulders, looked up at the elderly man, and spoke in a calm, steady voice.
"Uncle, I am an orphan. My parents passed away when I was eight years old."
A hush followed her words. The elderly man's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry, child."
"Don't be, Uncle," she said with a small smile. "It's okay."
Another man in the group scoffed, shaking his head. "So, a parentless child is now teaching us what is right and what is wrong?"
Her gaze turned sharp, but she didn't falter. Taking a deep breath, she replied with quiet determination.