My father took me straight to the clinic, panic still shadowing his face. The worry in his eyes hadn't eased since he got the call. As we waited, I could feel how tense the air was—like even the walls were holding their breath. The doctor examined me thoroughly, his hands gentle but precise. After a few minutes, he finally spoke, his tone calm and reassuring.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said. "It's just a mild cold. His body is reacting to exhaustion and a sudden drop in temperature. He'll be fine after some rest."
The moment those words left his mouth, I saw my father's shoulders finally relax. His eyes turned glassy, and without warning, he pulled me into a tight hug.
"You scared me, son…" he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. "You really scared me. Don't ever do this again. You almost took my life away tonight."
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his love. My throat tightened, and guilt settled in my chest like a heavy stone. I hadn't meant to worry them. I just… didn't know it would all spiral like this.
Since childhood, I had been living under the shadow of a mysterious illness—one that could get dangerous if triggered. I had always sensed that something was off, something my parents were hiding from me. Every time I asked, they brushed it off with gentle smiles and the same answer:
"You're too young to understand, we'll tell you when the time is right."
But now, more than ever, I wanted to know what it was.
Why did everyone act like I was fragile?
Why was there always a limit to how much emotion, how much pain, how much truth I was allowed to feel?
Still, I didn't ask again. Not tonight.
Instead, I let my father pick me up in his arms like he used to when I was small. He carried me out to the car and gently laid me in the backseat. I didn't protest. I couldn't. My body was weak, but more than that, my heart was tired.
We reached home soon. The familiar scent of our house—my mother's cooking, the flowers in the hallway, and the warmth of our living room—washed over me like a blanket.
As soon as my mom saw me, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around me.
"Never again," she whispered, holding me like she'd never let go. "I don't care how big the college function is, from now on, you come straight home after classes. No more staying late."
Her voice trembled with fear, and I could feel how shaken she was. I gently nodded against her shoulder, whispering, "I'm sorry, Mom. It was just a little cold. Nothing serious. Please don't worry."
But I knew my words didn't really ease her heart. Not after what had just happened.
Simmi, who had followed us inside, stepped forward and smiled softly. "Auntie, please don't worry," she said kindly. "Brother is completely okay now."
My mother turned to Simmi with teary eyes and gently took her hands. "Thank you, baby. Thank you for taking care of my son."
Simmi shook her head, almost embarrassed. "No, please don't say it like that," she replied. "You'll make me feel awkward. Rohan is my brother too, and looking after him… that's as much my responsibility as it is yours."
There was a moment of silence then—peaceful, warm. In that moment, surrounded by love and concern, I felt a strange mix of emotions. The ache in my chest still lingered from earlier, but here… in the arms of my family, things felt softer.
I lay down on the sofa, Mom covering me with a blanket while Simmi brought warm water and medicine. My father placed a hand on my head and whispered, "Get some sleep. We're all here. You're safe."
And for the first time that night, I felt something I hadn't felt all day.
Calm.
I wasn't alone anymore.
And maybe tomorrow, I'd face everything again—Nikhil, college, the confusion in my heart.
But for tonight…
I rested in the quiet storm of love that wrapped around me.
The soft light of the morning sun filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. My eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the light, and for a moment… I felt at peace.
But as I looked around, reality settled over me like a familiar blanket.
I wasn't in my bed.
I was lying across my father's lap—his arms wrapped protectively around me even in sleep. His head had slumped back on the sofa, exhaustion etched deeply into his features. My feet rested near the floor where my mother had curled up, still sleeping beside me as if she didn't want to be even an inch away from her son. And a few feet away, on the other sofa, lay Simmi, fast asleep in her college uniform from the night before, her arms loosely wrapped around a cushion.
That's when it hit me.
No one… not one of them had slept properly last night.
They had stayed up, watching over me, worrying, protecting—loving.
And something about that realization made my chest tighten.
I didn't want to disturb anyone, so I carefully shifted, trying to sit up slowly so my dad wouldn't wake. But the moment I moved, his eyes blinked open.
"Rohan… son, you're awake?" he whispered, voice raspy with sleep. "How are you feeling now? Are you okay?"
I gave him a soft, reassuring smile and nodded. "Yes, Dad… I'm feeling much better."
At that moment, my mother stirred as well. She blinked up at me from her spot on the floor, then shot up with a start.
"Oh no! It's already so late—I overslept!" she said, running a hand through her messy hair, clearly still flustered. Then her eyes landed on me, and her voice softened immediately.
"Rohan… you're awake." Her hand reached out to gently touch my cheek. "You slept so peacefully. Are you okay now, baby?"
I nodded again, trying not to let my emotions show. "Yes, Mumma… I'm totally fine now. Just a little weak, that's all."
She smiled, but her eyes were tired, the worry still lingering just beneath the surface.
"Then you're not going to college today," she said firmly. "You're going to stay home and rest. One day won't change your life. But your health… it matters more than anything."
I looked into her eyes and knew there was no use arguing.
I wanted to go back—to face everything, to see him… Nikhil.
But how could I say that to her? After the night she just spent, curled on the floor beside me like a silent guardian?
So, I didn't say anything.
I simply nodded.
She looked relieved, as if she'd just won a battle I never intended to fight.
Then she gently got up and went over to Simmi, brushing the hair from her face as she softly called her name.
"Simmi beta… wake up. It's morning."
Simmi stirred, blinking groggily. "Hmm? Oh… did I fall asleep?"
"Yes," Mom said with a faint smile. "You were too tired. Thank you, baby… for staying with Rohan."
Simmi sat up quickly and looked at me. "Brother, are you okay now?"
"Yes, I'm okay," I replied, trying to sound cheerful. "Thanks to you."
Simmi smiled warmly. "Good. Now rest today, alright?"
She went to freshen up, and soon, Mom helped her get ready. Moments later, she was waving goodbye and heading off to college—shouldering the normal routine that my family had protected me from for just one more day.
As the house grew quieter, I leaned back into the sofa cushions. My father brought me warm water. My mother wrapped a shawl around my shoulders. And even though the world outside had already moved on into a new day, inside our home… time stood still.
Just for me.
I was still processing everything that had happened—the party, the kiss, the heartbreak, the questions I didn't know how to ask. But right now… I wasn't thinking about Nikhil.
I was thinking about this family.
This love.
This safety.
And how, even in the middle of all the confusion in my heart…
I had never been more grateful to be loved this deeply.
A thousand thoughts were racing through my mind.
I sat in the quiet of my room, staring blankly at the wall, but inside… my heart was a battlefield. Confusion, fear, longing—everything had begun to blur together, and I didn't know what to do with it anymore.
My father noticed. He had always been the kind of parent who could read emotions like open books. Seeing the tension on my face, he walked in and sat beside me, his voice calm and full of concern.
"Rohan… what's bothering you? You've been unusually quiet. Are you okay?"
I hesitated.
For a moment, I thought of lying—of brushing it off with a casual excuse. But the storm inside me was too heavy now, and I needed to let some of it out.
So I took a deep breath and asked softly, "Dad… what does it mean when you feel… attracted to someone?"
My father tilted his head, a little surprised. "Attracted? You mean… you like someone?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. But… that person already has someone else in their life. And I don't know what to do."
My father's face relaxed slightly. He gave a gentle chuckle, then placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Rohan, you're a teenager now. You're in that age where feelings like this are natural. You might start feeling attracted to people around you—maybe girls your age, or even someone older. That's perfectly normal."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "What's important is how you deal with those feelings. Having a crush, or feeling drawn toward someone, isn't wrong. What would be wrong is letting that feeling turn into obsession—or bothering someone, or acting on it in a way that's immature."
I listened quietly, unsure how to say the next part. But I needed to.
"Dad… what if… what if both people feel the same? If both of them are ready… is it okay to date then?"
He gave me a firm look. "No, son. There's a right time for everything. You may think you're ready, and maybe even the other person thinks the same, but relationships aren't just about feelings. They come with responsibilities, with maturity, with emotional understanding. And right now, you're too young to carry that weight."
He softened a little. "Look, Rohan… I'm not saying your feelings aren't real. I'm just saying they need time to grow. Right now, your focus should be your studies, your goals. You'll meet many people in life who'll catch your attention. But you have to be the one to stay grounded."
I nodded again, but this time the heaviness in my chest only grew. There was still one question I hadn't asked.
The most important one.
And I wasn't sure if I should.
But I did.
"Dad," I said quietly, "what if someone… doesn't feel attraction toward the opposite sex? What if someone likes people of the same gender?"
My dad frowned slightly, caught off guard. "Same sex?"
"Yes…" I said carefully. "Like… if a boy likes another boy."
He shifted in his seat.
His body language changed.
And then… his voice changed too.
"Rohan," he said firmly, "don't talk about such things. These ideas… they're not normal. They only spoil society. Boys liking boys… girls liking girls… it's unnatural. Don't even let such thoughts come into your head."
His words hit me like a slap I hadn't seen coming.
"But Dad," I asked gently, "why do you say that? What if they can't help how they feel?"
He sighed, clearly agitated now. "Because this is not how things are supposed to be. It goes against nature, against our culture, against everything our values stand for. And I'm not the only one who thinks so—this is what 80% of people in our country believe."
His tone had hardened, final and closed off.
And with that, the conversation ended.
Not because I didn't have more questions.
But because… I realized he wasn't ready to hear them.
And maybe, he never would be.
So I just sat there in silence, my heart sinking lower with each passing second.
I couldn't speak anymore.
I couldn't tell him that the person I was attracted to… was Nikhil.
That the kiss had meant something.
That I had felt something real.
Because if I did… I knew what his reaction would be.
So I stayed quiet.
And for the first time in my life…
I felt completely alone, even when surrounded by love.
To be continue....