Inside the Room — Night
Laddu's breath began to shake.
At first, he tried to stop it.
He wiped his face roughly, turned away.
"I'm fine," he said.
His voice betrayed him before he could.
Mochi didn't argue.
She moved closer and sat beside him on the bed.
"You don't have to be," she said softly 🤍.
That was enough.
Laddu's shoulders gave up.
He leaned forward… then completely into her, forehead pressing against her chest like he had no strength left to stand on his own.
"I felt weak," he said, voice muffled 😞.
"I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move."
Mochi wrapped her arms around him instantly.
"You were scared," she said gently.
"That's not weakness."
His hands clutched her sleeves, tight, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him together.
"They laughed at me," he cried.
"I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know how to fight back."
Mochi held him tighter.
One hand steady on his back.
The other resting in his hair, grounding him 🌿.
"You didn't deserve any of that," she said.
"Not one second."
Laddu cried openly now.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just tired sobs 😢 — the kind that come when something heavy is finally put down.
"I just wanted to go out," he whispered.
"I didn't think… clothes would matter."
Mochi rested her chin lightly on his head.
"They mattered to them," she said calmly.
"Not because you were wrong. Because they were cruel."
He stayed curled against her, breathing uneven.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The night deepened 🌌.
At some point, Laddu stopped crying.
But he didn't pull away.
He stayed there.
Face pressed into her shoulder.
Arms still holding on.
Mochi didn't move.
She didn't check the time ⏳.
She didn't shift when her arm went numb.
She didn't loosen her hold.
She stayed.
Outside the Room
The house was silent.
Mother whispered to Father,
"She locked the door for a reason."
Maya sat on the floor, back against the wall.
"He's not alone."
Candy had fallen asleep on the couch 🛋️, hugging a pillow tightly.
The cousin spoke quietly,
"He finally let himself break."
Inside the Room
Laddu slept there.
Not on the bed.
Not on the floor.
In Mochi's arms 🤍.
The whole night.
And for the first time since everything began—
No performance.
No noise.
No identity to protect.
Just someone who had been hurt,
and someone who stayed long enough
for the hurt to stop running.
Morning could wait.
For now,
the night was doing its work 🌙.
Morning ☀️
Laddu was still asleep.
His face rested against Mochi's shoulder, breathing slow and even 😴.
Mochi's arms were still around him.
Careful.
Protective.
She hadn't moved all night.
The door clicked softly.
Mother opened it with the spare key.
She stopped.
Saw them.
Laddu — asleep like a child who had cried too much.
Mochi — holding him without hesitation.
Mother's eyes softened 🕊️.
She closed the door quietly.
And locked it again.
Turning to the others, she said softly,
"Everything is right. Let them sleep."
No one argued.
📞 A phone rang.
Father answered.
"Yes?"
Everyone watched his face change.
"…What?"
"…When?"
The call ended.
Father lowered the phone slowly.
Mother looked at him.
"What happened?"
He exhaled once.
"Two men," he said quietly.
"They beat the whole gang."
Maya froze.
"What gang?"
"The ones who bullied Laddu."
Candy gasped.
"Beat… how?"
Father didn't raise his voice.
"Broken teeth. Broken nose. ICU."
Silence crashed through the house ❄️.
Mother covered her mouth.
"Who would do that?"
Father looked toward the locked door.
"They warned everyone," he continued.
"'Touch him again… you're dead.'"
Maya whispered,
"…Who?"
Mother closed her eyes.
"Barfi," she said softly.
"And Jalabie."
No one spoke for a long moment.
The cousin muttered,
"They always said they'd never raise a hand unless—"
"Unless someone touched family," Father finished.
Mother sat down slowly.
"They didn't tell us."
"They never do," Maya said.
"They just… handle it."
Candy hugged herself.
"They protected him."
Father nodded.
"Yes."
Mother glanced at the door again.
"And he doesn't even know," she said.
"He doesn't need to," Father replied.
Inside the room, Laddu slept peacefully.
Unaware of broken bones.
Unaware of warnings.
Unaware of revenge.
He slept because someone had held him all night
and didn't let go 🤍.
Mother whispered, almost to herself,
"This family protects in silence. On both sides."
🔔 The doorbell rang.
Once.
Everyone froze.
Father opened the door.
Three men stood outside.
One with his arm in a sling.
One on crutches.
Faces swollen.
Noses bandaged.
Teeth missing 😶.
Maya whispered,
"…Them."
Mother stepped forward, steady.
"What do you want?"
One bowed his head.
"We're sorry," he said.
"We did wrong," another added.
"To your… brother."
Candy clutched Mother's sleeve.
"We're leaving," the third said.
"The country. Today."
Mother studied them.
Then said quietly,
"Go."
They nodded repeatedly.
"Thank you," one whispered.
They walked away.
Slow.
Broken.
Leaning on each other.
Father closed the door 🔒.
Silence returned.
Maya swallowed.
"I don't feel good about that."
"You're not supposed to," Mother replied.
Candy asked softly,
"Will they come back?"
"No," Father said.
"That wasn't justice," the cousin murmured.
"No," Mother agreed.
"It was fear."
"Should we tell Laddu?" Maya asked.
"No," Father said immediately.
"He doesn't need that weight," Mother added.
Down the hall, the door stayed closed.
Inside, Laddu slept.
Unaware of apologies spoken through broken mouths
and goodbyes limped into the street.
Mother folded her hands.
"Let this end here," she said.
No one argued.
Some stories are meant to stop
before they reach the person
who has already been hurt enough 🌱.