Living Room — Night
The girl stirred under the blanket 🛌
A small movement. A breath catching.
She sat up slowly, eyes half-open, confused 😵💫
The room was unfamiliar.
Then she saw Jalabie.
No words.
No hesitation.
She stood and walked straight toward him.
Jalabie noticed instantly.
He rose, crossed the room in two calm steps, and lifted her into his arms 🤲
She melted into him like this was muscle memory.
Cheek against his shoulder.
No fear. No stiffness.
He began tapping her back.
Slow.
Rhythmic.
Automatic.
Tap… tap… tap…
The kind of motion learned through repetition, not thought 💭
Her breathing softened almost immediately 😌
Shoulders dropped.
Fingers loosened.
The family watched in silence.
Candy whispered,
"She trusts him." 🧸
Mother's eyes softened 🤍
"He knows exactly how to hold her."
Father nodded.
"That's muscle memory."
Maya folded her arms, quieter now.
"He's not rough. He's precise."
Jalabie shifted the girl slightly, murmuring something too low to hear, still tapping her back the way a parent does when sleep refuses to come.
Within seconds, the girl went limp with sleep 😴
Candy smiled.
"She's sleeping again."
Mother spoke gently.
"You didn't bring her just for vacation."
Jalabie didn't deny it.
"She needed quiet," he said.
"And I needed a reminder."
Father raised an eyebrow.
"Of what?"
Jalabie glanced once toward Laddu's closed room 🚪
"That strength isn't noise," he replied.
"Sometimes it's staying awake so someone else can sleep."
The room stayed quiet.
No jokes.
No questions.
Just the sound of slow breathing
and the soft, steady tap of a hand
that knew how to protect without frightening.
In that moment, the family understood something new about Jalabie.
He wasn't only the one who stood in the dark 🌑
He was also someone who knew how to carry a child
until fear let go.
Jalabie carried the girl down the hallway.
Candy followed on tiptoes like a cartoon character 🐾
Holding her breath.
He laid the girl gently on Candy's bed, adjusted the pillow, and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
The girl turned once.
Didn't wake.
Slept on 😴
Candy whispered,
"I'll be quiet."
Jalabie nodded.
"Good."
He stepped back into the dining room.
Looked at everyone, voice low and deliberate.
"She knows only a few English words," he said.
"Please don't ask her about family. Or anything that can upset her."
Mother nodded immediately.
"Of course."
Maya added softly,
"We'll keep it normal."
Father said,
"She's safe here."
Jalabie didn't thank them.
He accepted it.
Then he turned toward Laddu's room.
The door opened.
Laddu looked up from the bed, startled.
"This is my room."
Jalabie didn't raise his voice.
"Now it's mine."
The house froze ❄️
Maya stood.
"Hey—"
Mother lifted a hand ✋
Stopping her.
Laddu sat straighter.
"You can't just—"
Jalabie stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Not hard.
Not soft.
Final.
From the hallway, the family exchanged looks.
Father spoke quietly.
"He's drawing a line."
Mother nodded.
"Between chaos and safety."
Maya frowned.
"I don't like how he does it."
The cousin replied,
"He never asked us to."
Candy peeked from her doorway.
"Is Laddu in trouble?"
Mother shook her head gently.
"No. He's being watched."
Behind the closed door—
No shouting.
No crashing sounds.
Just two silhouettes through the frosted glass.
One guarding 🛡️
One resisting ⚡
And a house holding its breath,
knowing that whatever happened behind that door
would change the way Laddu came out of it.
Morning ☀️
Jalabie opened Laddu's door.
"Shoes."
Laddu barely had time to react.
Jalabie grabbed his arm and pulled him outside.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just absolute.
Everyone saw it.
Father looked up from his chair.
Maya froze mid-step.
Mother paused near the kitchen door.
No one stopped him.
No one spoke.
They all knew this was Jalabie's way.
Living Room
Candy sat on the floor with the little girl 🃏
UNO cards everywhere.
Candy beamed.
"Your turn!"
The girl answered softly in Korean 🇰🇷
Candy blinked.
"…Okay?"
Mother sat with them, guiding cards, smiling gently even though she didn't understand a word.
The girl laughed once 😂
Candy laughed too, even though nothing made sense.
Mother thought:
Language doesn't matter when children feel safe.
Outside 🌳
Jalabie ran.
Laddu ran because he had no choice.
At first, Laddu complained 😠
Then he stopped talking.
Then he focused on breathing.
By the time they came back, Laddu was bent forward, hands on knees, chest rising and falling hard.
Not panic.
Exhaustion.
Real.
Inside — 15 Minutes Later
Laddu sat quietly.
Breathing slowed.
Color returned to his face.
He stood and walked into the kitchen.
"What's for food?" he asked.
Jalabie was already there, cracking eggs 🍳
"I'll make for myself," Jalabie said.
"This is not a hotel."
Laddu blinked.
"What?"
He looked at Mother instinctively.
Jalabie didn't look up.
"Even if she cooks," he continued,
"I won't let you eat."
The room reacted instantly.
Maya straightened.
"That's too far."
Candy stopped shuffling cards.
"Brother needs food."
Father spoke carefully.
"Jalabie—"
Jalabie turned.
"You eat when you make it yourself," he said to Laddu.
"Until then, hunger will teach you something."
Laddu stared.
Not angry.
Not loud.
Confused. Tired.
Mother stood.
"This house feeds its people."
Jalabie met her eyes.
"And this house raises adults."
Silence.
Laddu swallowed.
Didn't argue.
Turned toward the counter.
Picked up a plate.
And for the first time in days, everyone saw something familiar.
Reluctant 😒
Annoyed 😤
But grounded.
Laddu cooked.
With attitude.
Vegetables chopped too hard 🔪
Pan stirred aggressively 🍳
Plate slammed down like breakfast personally offended him.
He ate.
Chewed angrily.
Maya whispered,
"He's eating like an angry girlfriend." 💅
Candy covered her mouth 🤭
Laddu shot her a look.
"Don't."
Across the room, Jalabie sat on the floor with the little girl.
Small bowl.
Careful scoops.
Blew once on the food.
Fed her gently by hand 🥣
She leaned into him, calm.
Mother watched.
"He knows exactly how much."
The girl said something softly.
Jalabie nodded.
"Yes."
Candy whispered,
"He's gentle with her."
Mother nodded.
"He always is with children."
Laddu stabbed his food.
"This is stupid."
Jalabie didn't look up.
"Eat."
Laddu ate.
Mochi stood near the doorway, arms crossed.
"I don't like the way he treats Laddu."
The room stilled.
Father replied quietly,
"We don't have a choice."
Mochi turned.
"There's always a choice."
Father sighed.
"Yes. Between comfort now and clarity later."
Maya added,
"He's not hurting him."
"He's frustrating him," Mochi said.
Mother answered softly,
"And frustration is familiar to him."
Laddu finished eating and pushed the plate away.
Didn't look at anyone.
The girl finished too.
Jalabie wiped her mouth gently 🧻
Two kinds of care.
One harsh.
One soft.
The family sat with the discomfort.
Because even if no one liked watching Laddu struggle—
They could see it.
Under the anger.
Under the sulking.
He was present.
And for now,
that fragile presence
was the thread holding everyone together 🧵