Cutest babe

My grandmother scrolled through my latest post, her weathered fingers trembling slightly. "Cutest babe," the caption read, my daughter laughing in golden afternoon light. The algorithm favored it—sponsors lined up, validating what I already knew. But Avvaiyar's ancient words echoed in my mind: true wealth comes from character, not coins. I'd monetized motherhood, and something intoxicating about those earnings felt hollow. That evening, I taught my daughter Tamil verses instead of filming. We sat beneath stars, my mother joining us, weaving our story together. Some moments, I realized, were never meant for strangers.