“I think you’re cheating, Tatta!” Molly wasn’t very good at chess, she still didn’t understand all the rules, but the elderly man with a toothless grin said it all; the mischievous glint that danced in his dark eyes only meant her suspicions were correct. While it took Mohinder’s mother weeks to warm up to Molly, his grandfather became her best friend as soon as she entered the Suresh household. To be point blank: They were as thick as thieves. The only “racket” that was ever issued in any room they occupied was the sounds his laughter and her squeals of delight.
It helped he spoiled her rotten too.
While he began to move her own pieces—she was laughing too hard to call him out on it!—the sound of Mrs. Suresh soft coughing interrupted the jubilant atmosphere. Trying to catch her breath Molly peeked over the sofa, using her tiny fingers and legs as leverage to look over. “Yes ma’am?”
Molly didn’t stop smiling; she had never seen Mrs. Suresh’s eyes dance that way before, not since Mohinder showed her a picture of his family from before he was born, and it made her only grin wider. “I think someone’s here to see you…”
The little girl crinkled her face in confusion. And the first image—a hopeful image—that popped into her mind, her face lighting up like fireworks on the fourth of July, made her crawl over the sofa and rushing toward the Geneticist with open arms and dancing blue eyes. “MOHINDER!”