Kitchen — Morning
Jalabie studied the sink like it was a philosophical problem.
Plates.
Pans.
Cups.
He tilted his head.
"Who's going to wash the dishes," he asked calmly,
"Alien 👽 or Thanos 🟣?"
Maya blinked.
"…What?"
Jalabie turned to Laddu.
"Wash them."
Laddu didn't even look back.
"Later."
Jalabie nodded once.
"Okay."
He rinsed his own plate, set it aside neatly.
"You'll eat only those," he added evenly,
"until the rest are clean."
Silence hit the kitchen like a dropped spoon.
Laddu froze.
He looked at the sink.
Then Jalabie.
Then the family.
Mother opened her mouth… then closed it.
Father leaned back, watching.
Mochi's jaw tightened.
Laddu stood abruptly.
"Fine."
He marched to the sink, rolled up his sleeves with maximum attitude, and turned on the tap.
WHOOSH 💧
He scrubbed.
Hard.
Too hard.
Maya whispered,
"He's furious."
Candy tilted her head.
"But he's doing it."
Jalabie said nothing.
The little girl watched from the table, feet swinging lightly 🦶🦶
Plate by plate.
Cup by cup.
Pan by pan.
When he finished, Laddu stacked everything neatly, dried his hands, turned off the tap.
No comment.
He sat back down.
The kitchen felt… different.
Father spoke first.
"He followed through."
Mother nodded slowly.
"He didn't argue."
Mochi exhaled.
"He didn't disappear."
Jalabie glanced once at Laddu.
"Good."
No praise.
No lecture.
Just consequence.
The family exchanged looks.
They didn't like the method.
But they couldn't deny the shift.
Laddu wasn't drifting anymore.
He was resisting ⚡
Laddu collapsed onto the sofa, phone already in hand 📱
Scroll.
Laugh.
A short, sharp laugh that didn't mean rest.
Jalabie glanced at him.
"What about office work?"
Laddu didn't look up.
"I need rest."
Before Jalabie could respond—
The door opened.
Bob stepped in with a thick file 📂
"Sorry. It's urgent."
Jalabie's eyes flicked to the phone.
"Give it."
Laddu laughed.
"No."
In one clean motion, Jalabie snapped the phone out of Laddu's hand.
"Complete the work," Jalabie said,
"then you get the phone."
Laddu shot to his feet.
"You're crossing a line."
Jalabie's voice stayed flat.
"Brother," he said,
"I don't have a line."
The room froze.
Mochi stepped forward.
"Hey—"
Laddu lunged for the phone.
Jalabie stepped back once and lifted it higher, calm as gravity.
"Okay," he said.
"No phone until the work is done."
He placed it on the top shelf, unreachable.
Bob stood awkwardly.
"…Should I come back later?"
"No," Jalabie said.
"Sit."
Laddu stared at the shelf.
Then the file.
Jaw tight.
"…Fine."
He grabbed the file and sat at the table.
Papers spread.
Pens clicked.
Bob cleared his throat.
"Page three needs correction."
"I know," Laddu snapped.
"Pen."
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The laughing stopped.
The scrolling stopped.
The house watched.
Maya whispered,
"He's focusing."
Candy nodded.
"He's serious."
Mother clasped her hands.
"He's back in rhythm."
Mochi didn't smile.
But her shoulders dropped a little.
At the table, Laddu leaned forward, correcting numbers, explaining sharply but clearly.
Jalabie watched from the side.
Not pleased.
Not angry.
Just steady 🧱
Bob finally said,
"This part… you fixed it."
Laddu didn't look up.
"I always do."
The family exchanged a look.
This wasn't control.
It was interruption.
And sometimes… interruption is enough.
Afternoon → Evening 🌅
Three hours passed.
Signatures done.
Corrections finished.
Bob closed the file, relieved.
"That's it. Thank you."
He left quietly.
Laddu retrieved his phone, dropped onto the sofa…
…and exhaustion won.
Phone slid to his chest.
Head tilted.
Asleep 😴
Mochi noticed first.
She moved softly, lifted the phone, placed a pillow under his head, and pulled a blanket over him.
Careful.
Practiced.
She didn't wake him.
Dining Table
Mochi sat down, arms folded.
"I don't like the way you treat him," she said calmly.
Maya nodded fast.
"Yeah. That was bad."
The cousin added,
"Logically inconsistent. Emotionally aggressive."
Jalabie didn't answer.
Mother set her cup down.
"Enough."
Father echoed, firmer.
"Quiet."
They stopped.
Mother continued, voice steady.
"He ate. He worked. He slept."
Father added,
"He didn't disappear."
Maya looked away, conflicted.
Nearby, Candy rolled a ball for Ben 🐕
The little girl laughed, saying something in Korean 🇰🇷
The baby slept peacefully in Mother's arms 👶🤍
The house felt… normal.
Mochi glanced at Laddu sleeping.
"Tired," she said softly.
Jalabie finally spoke.
"I won't stay long."
No one replied.
No thanks.
No forgiveness.
Just coexistence.
Jalabie broke the quiet again.
"I know Laddu more than all of you combined."
Maya bristled.
"That's not fair."
Jalabie didn't look at her.
"He has something called a happy week."
The cousin nodded.
"Yes."
"It used to be every day," Jalabie said.
"He's a workaholic. Ten hours minimum."
Father frowned.
"That's not healthy."
"I know," Jalabie replied.
Mochi asked softly,
"Then why push him?"
Jalabie met her eyes.
"Because when he stops working… he doesn't rest."
Silence.
"He dissolves," Jalabie continued.
"Jokes. Distractions. Performance."
Maya swallowed.
"So you're reviving structure."
"Yes."
Mother asked,
"And joy?"
Jalabie glanced at Laddu.
"Joy comes after grounding."
The cousin nodded slowly.
"That tracks."
Mochi's voice softened.
"But he's not a machine."
"I know," Jalabie said.
"That's why I stop before he breaks."
Maya crossed her arms.
"You scared him."
"Yes," Jalabie replied.
"Fear woke him."
Mother inhaled.
"That's dangerous."
Jalabie met her gaze.
"I'm not staying long."
Candy laughed as Ben licked her face 🐶💦
The little girl clapped, cheerful.
Life continued.
Mochi watched Laddu sleep.
"He looks peaceful."
Jalabie nodded.
"Tired in the right way."
No one fully agreed.
No one fully disagreed.
They all understood one thing:
Jalabie wasn't trying to control Laddu's future.
He was dragging him back to a version of himself
that knew how to move forward
and then stand still.
Whether that was right or wrong…
Only time would answer ⏳