Mochi finally spoke.
"I respect his decision," she said quietly.
"Whatever he takes."
Everyone turned toward her.
She didn't sound brave 💭
She sounded tired. Honest.
"I don't want to trap him," Mochi continued.
"I don't want to test him. I don't want to force him to choose me, or us."
Mother watched her carefully 👀
"If he tells me he likes someone else," Mochi said,
"or that he needs space… I'll respect that too."
Maya frowned 😖
"That hurts."
"Yes," Mochi replied.
"But love isn't ownership."
Father nodded slowly 🤍
"That's maturity."
The cousin added,
"You're choosing dignity over fear."
Mochi swallowed.
"I just want his choice to be real. Not panic. Not attention."
Mother reached out and held Mochi's hand 🤝
"That's all anyone can ask."
Candy asked softly,
"If he comes back different?"
Mochi answered without hesitation.
"Then we meet that version honestly."
The room went quiet.
Not heavy this time 🌫️
Clear.
Mochi looked toward the door one more time 🚪
"I love him," she said.
"That doesn't mean I decide for him."
And in that moment, the family understood:
Whatever Laddu chose,
whatever he discovered,
Mochi had already chosen the hardest thing of all.
To stay kind 🌱
without trying to control the ending.
A heavy voice came from the doorway.
"But I don't."
Everyone turned.
Jalabie stood there.
In his arms was a sleeping girl, about ten years old 😴
Her head rested against his shoulder.
Korean. Exhausted. Safe.
Mother stood up immediately.
"You came."
Jalabie nodded once.
"I told Barfi not to come."
Maya frowned.
"Why?"
"He'll take Laddu's side," Jalabie replied calmly.
"And that won't help right now."
Candy stepped closer, eyes wide 👀
"Who is that girl?"
Jalabie walked to the sofa, carefully laid the child down, and covered her with a blanket 🛋️🧸
"Someone important," he said.
The room stayed silent.
Jalabie straightened and looked directly at Mochi.
"What did you mean," he asked evenly,
"when you said you respect his decision?"
Mochi didn't flinch.
"I mean… whatever choice he makes. It's his."
Jalabie shook his head slowly ❌
"No," he said.
"It's not his choice."
Everyone stiffened.
"That choice," Jalabie continued, voice low and steady,
"belongs to someone who entered his brain."
Maya swallowed.
"You mean the injury."
"Yes," Jalabie replied.
"And the fear. And the hunger for validation."
Father spoke carefully.
"So you're saying—"
"I'm saying," Jalabie interrupted gently,
"real choice comes from stability."
He looked at Mochi again.
"If Laddu wakes up one day, clear-headed, grounded, and says, 'This is who I am,'"
"I'll stand behind him first."
He paused.
"But this?"
"This is not identity. This is drift."
Mother crossed her arms.
He looked back at Mochi.
"Respecting choice is good," he said.
"But abandoning someone to confusion is not respect."
Mochi's throat tightened.
"So what do we do?"
Jalabie answered without raising his voice.
"We wait," he said.
"We protect." 🛡️
"And when Laddu's mind is his again—"
He looked around the room.
"—then whatever he chooses will be real."
The girl stirred slightly in her sleep 😴
Mother adjusted the blanket gently 🤍
The room exhaled together.
For the first time that day,
no one argued.
Because they finally understood the difference:
Between control and care.
Between choice and confusion.
Jalabie hadn't come to fight.
He had come to hold the line
until Laddu could stand on it himself.
Evening 🌆
The door opened.
Laddu walked in, tired, phone in hand 📱
Jalabie didn't raise his voice.
"Where were you?"
"Shopping," Laddu replied automatically.
Jalabie stepped closer.
"Where were you?"
His voice was heavier now ⚖️
Laddu turned away.
"I'm going to the washroom."
Jalabie caught his collar.
Not hard.
Not shaking.
Just enough to stop him.
"Where," Jalabie said again,
"were you?"
Laddu's eyes flashed ⚡
"You can't do that to me. I have rights."
Jalabie didn't move.
"How many years have you known me?"
Laddu swallowed.
"…Many."
"Then don't lie to me," Jalabie said.
A beat.
Laddu's shoulders dropped.
"I went to a café," he said.
"To meet an online friend."
Jalabie released his collar immediately.
He held out his hand.
"Phone."
Laddu hesitated 😬
"Now," Jalabie said.
Laddu gave it.
⏳ Twenty minutes passed.
No shouting.
No threats.
Jalabie returned the phone and spoke quietly, close enough that only Laddu could hear.
"You don't go outside without my permission," he said.
"Not until your head is clear."
He paused.
"And listen—don't make me angry."
Laddu nodded once.
His face crumpled, just a little 💔
He walked to his room and closed the door.
Softly.
Mochi stepped forward, voice shaking.
"Hey. You cannot do that."
Jalabie turned to her.
"I can," he said evenly.
"And I will."
The room reacted all at once.
Maya bristled 😠
"That was too much."
Father spoke calmly but firm.
"You crossed a line."
Mother didn't shout.
She looked at Jalabie steadily.
"You protected him," she said.
"But fear is not care."
Jalabie nodded.
"I know."
The cousin added,
"He needs guardrails, not chains."
Candy whispered,
"He looked sad."
Jalabie looked toward Laddu's closed door 🚪
"He's alive," he said.
"He's home."
Mochi wiped her eyes 😢
"He needs dignity."
Jalabie met her gaze.
"He'll get it back," he said.
"When the fog lifts."
The house stayed tense.
Not because anyone wanted control.
But because everyone was trying to protect the same person
from different kinds of harm
at the same time.
Mother looked toward the sofa where the girl slept.
"Who is that girl?" she asked.
Jalabie answered calmly.
"My nephew."
Mother blinked.
"Nephew?"
"Yes," Jalabie said.
"She had holidays. I thought I'd be a good vacation."
Maya raised an eyebrow.
"This is your idea of vacation?"
Jalabie nodded.
"Safe place. Good food. No drama."
He paused.
"Mostly."
Candy's eyes lit up ✨
"She can sleep with me!"
Jalabie looked at Candy, serious face on.
"And what if she catches the Candy virus?"
Candy gasped 😱
"What virus?"
"The one where you talk nonstop," Jalabie replied.
"And steal blankets."
Maya laughed despite herself 😂
"That virus is real."
Mother smiled softly.
"She can sleep with Candy," she said.
"I'll give extra blankets."
Jalabie nodded.
"Okay."
Candy pumped her fist silently ✊
"Yes!"
Father added dryly,
"Welcome to chaos."
Jalabie glanced toward Laddu's room, then back at the table.
"Good," he said.
"Chaos feels like home."
The house settled again.
A child sleeping safely 🛌
A family negotiating roles 🤝
And somewhere behind a closed door—
A boy, bruised and confused,
resting inside a house that refused to give up on him.
Not tonight.
Not ever.