I'm not shy,
I'm just not open with everyone.

I don't love,
I just care about other's feelings.

Liking is not the feeling I ever had,
But trying to do things that do not hurt others is my priority...

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Care

Sometimes, we've all been told that things aren't always as they seem. But when we try to protect our own feelings by looking at situations from a more negative perspective, we can unintentionally become emotionally distant or "stone-hearted." Imagine, it's like putting up a shield around your heart to shield yourself from getting hurt, but in doing so, you might start to feel less connected to your emotions and those of others.

During difficult times, when it feels like nothing good is happening in your life, and you're desperately in need of someone to support you, it can be incredibly tough to stay strong. It's in these moments of vulnerability that we long for someone, just one person, to stand by our side and offer a comforting word or a listening ear. Sadly, I found myself in a situation where I needed this support the most, but it was nowhere to be found.

I remember those days when tears seemed to be my only companions, and the weight of my pain was almost unbearable. It was a time when I felt so isolated that it seemed like nobody even knew I was going through such a tough ordeal. What made matters worse was that, in the midst of all this, my own family turned against me. My dad and brother placed blame on my shoulders and even threatened to cast me out of our home. It was a heart-wrenching moment, and what added to the pain was that none of our neighbors stepped in to intervene or offer a helping hand.

I owe my life to my aunt and her family who lived right next door. If it weren't for them, I might not be here today. I can't be certain of the exact words they used or the conversations they had with my dad, but whatever it was, it had a profound impact. Their intervention was a ray of hope during those dark days.

At that crucial juncture, my aunt and her family extended an incredibly generous offer—they wanted me to come and live with them. They saw the turmoil I was going through and wanted to provide a safe and supportive environment. It was a tempting offer, but I was just a child, deeply attached to our family home. I clung to the hope that things would get better, that my dad would eventually understand me and love me as a parent should.

In my young heart, I held onto the belief that our family could find a way to heal and be happy again. So, despite the lifeline my aunt's family offered, I hesitated to leave my home. It was a difficult decision, driven by the longing for better days and a father's love that I hoped would one day return.

I made several attempts to reach out to my brother, hoping for some understanding or support, but sadly, my efforts were in vain. It felt like a wall had been built between us, and communication had broken down completely.

During this tumultuous period, I also had a pressing concern about the whereabouts of my mom and Prisha. Leaving the family during such hard times didn't sit well with me. My mom had always imparted a valuable lesson to me – to stay strong and be there for the family, no matter what challenges we faced. Her words had left a deep imprint on my heart.

However, as I grew older, my perspective on life and my values began to evolve. I realized that I couldn't stay in that difficult situation forever. There comes a point in life when you have to prioritize your own well-being and growth. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was necessary for my own mental and emotional health. I had to find a way to move forward, even though it meant distancing myself from the family temporarily.

Remarkably, I succeeded in building a new life and finding my own path. I managed to create a sense of stability and happiness for myself, far away from the turmoil of my past. But just when I thought I had left it all behind, my dad and Sahil unexpectedly arrived in New York in search of me, potentially reopening old wounds and raising new questions about the future.

Back to the present...

Returning home after what seemed like a period of respite, I was met with an unexpected and shocking message from my dad, conveyed through one of our household maids. The atmosphere in the house was already heavy with unresolved issues, and this message only added to the tension.

The maid handed me a letter, and then she quietly exited the room, leaving me alone with the note. I retreated to my room, my heart pounding as I unfolded the message and began to read. The words were brief but carried a heavy weight. My dad informed me that he would be absent for a few days, and the reason struck a chord of frustration within me.

Sahil, my brother, had an upcoming match, and as per my dad's explanation, he couldn't eat food from outside as it wouldn't suit his taste. The maids in the house were unfamiliar with Sahil's culinary preferences, but I, on the other hand, knew them well. Thus, the responsibility to prepare meals for him fell squarely on my shoulders.

As I read those lines, a mixture of emotions flooded my heart. I felt anger at the sudden imposition of this task, resentment for being left to handle it alone, and a deep sadness that my dad's message had been devoid of any warmth or concern for me. The closing words, "Take care," almost brought tears to my eyes, not because of their kindness but because they seemed to highlight the emotional distance between us.

I followed instructions and did what I was told. However, I felt really nervous about the whole situation. For a long time, I had assumed that my brother didn't want anything to do with me. It had been years since I cooked for him, and making a meal for him again brought back a sense of familiarity.

In the past, our mom used to cook for both of us. When we got back home, our dad would usually spend quality time with our sibling Prisha, so it was just mom, my brother Sahil, and me who enjoyed our evening meals together.

My brother had been staring at his plate for quite some time now. I was sitting on the opposite side of the table, waiting for him to open up to me. Earlier, when he returned from practice, he seemed upset. Based on past experiences, I had a hunch that something was bothering him, and he might blame me for it once he saw me.

But to my surprise, as I was about to leave the table and return to my room after setting everything up for him, he stopped me. He said he wanted to talk to me. I was both happy and confused because this was the first time in years that he seemed genuinely interested in having a conversation with me.

He just sat there without eating, continuing to look down. Now, my worry was growing. I started to wonder if something was seriously wrong with him.

"Sahil," I nervously began, but my words trailed off when he looked up. It was clear that something was seriously bothering him. He appeared disheveled, with red eyes that suggested he'd been crying, and I could see he was struggling to talk to me.

His appearance was unsettling. It seemed like he had just been in a fight, and I noticed bruises on his arms. My concern escalated quickly. What had happened during his practice? Had someone bullied him? Anger welled up inside me at the thought.

"F**k! What happened to you? Did someone hurt you?" I growled, my worry overriding my nervousness.

He seemed taken aback by my reaction and stared at me for a moment before responding, "Do you care?"

"Of course, I do. You're my family," I asserted.

"Bullshit!" He snapped. "I never treated you as my family, so don't say that."

I was shocked by his statement.

"All these years, I thought you were the reason for my favorite sister's death and Mom's condition, and I treated you like shit. But you..." He stopped abruptly, rising from his seat. I also stood up, utterly confused about what he was saying.

"What are you talking about? I didn't even know that Prisha was your favorite because you used to..." I started to ask before he interrupted me.

"NOO! She was never my favorite. You were. It was all his manipulation. He messed with my mind. I don't recognize myself when I treat you like that. He said you were that evil. He...he..."

He expressed his frustration, and then he did something that shocked me.

He hugged me.

My brother. My Sahil. My favorite person from childhood was hugging me. Not only that, he was crying and sniffling like a baby. At that moment, all my confusion and sadness faded away as I hugged him back. I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It was as if I had stumbled upon a long-lost treasure. I suddenly felt hopeful, like I had found something that I had lost a few years ago. I missed it. I missed my little brother.

****

It truly felt like a dream. After our heartfelt conversation, I decided not to push Sahil to share any more of his thoughts or feelings. Instead, I took care of him by feeding him dinner, and afterward, we went for a short and refreshing walk together.

Upon our return home, Sahil led me to his room, and he fell asleep on my lap, just like a baby. This moment evoked memories of when Sahil was born. Mom would often let me hold the sleeping baby in my arms. I would gently play with his small, curly hair and position myself in a way that ensured he wouldn't accidentally slip or fall.

Sahil had always shown more love towards me than Prisha. Whenever she tried to blame me for her mistakes in front of Dad, Sahil would step in and tell the truth, supporting me. We used to be incredibly close back then. And even after all these years, that same connection between us felt as strong as ever. It was like we hadn't missed a beat. Sahil even had the same peaceful expression on his face while he slept, with his mouth slightly ajar.

As I reminisced about our childhood memories and the bond we shared, I lost track of time and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Next day morning...

I woke up bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, and there, in the same position he'd slept in, was Sahil. A smile crept across my face as I recalled the events of the previous night. It wasn't a dream; I had indeed reconnected with my caring little brother.

Carefully, I shifted to rise from my spot, gently placing Sahil's head on the pillow. I needed to get ready for school. Slowly, I made my way out of the room and prepared myself for the day. 

After getting dressed and refreshed, I went to Sahil's room, eager to see how he was doing. However, when I entered, I found him awake and visibly anxious. As soon as he spotted me, he let out a sigh of relief and rushed over to hug me tightly. 

Before I could fully embrace him, he pulled away abruptly, expressing a desire to get ready for school without making eye contact. Swiftly, he headed towards his bathroom. I was left feeling perplexed by his sudden shift in behavior, but I pushed aside my unease and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. 

I decided to make an Indian dish, poha, and set the table for both of us. I also poured glasses of milk. Unusually, I waited for Sahil to join me. Normally, I'd eat before him and head to school on foot. However, after our heartwarming moment the previous night, I felt a strong urge to wait for him and go to college together. Plus, I was eager to understand the reason behind his recent emotional turmoil. I had refrained from asking last night because I didn't want to make him cry further, but now I felt it was essential to know what had triggered this change in him.

After a few minutes, I noticed Sahil making his way down the stairs. He was dressed in his favorite white shirt and black jeans, looking fresh and genuinely happy. It had been years since I had seen him this content. He greeted me with a shy "Good morning" and started eating his food. Seeing him in such high spirits, I decided to put aside my curiosity for the moment and quietly finished my meal.

Once we had both finished eating, Sahil went back to his room to grab his bag, and I took care of washing the dishes. When he returned, I decided to take a chance and asked, "Can we go to school together today?"

"Of course. I wasn't going to let you go alone today anyway. From now on, we'll go to college together in our car and return home together," he replied, his eyes displaying a complex mix of emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. He swiftly turned and made his way to the garage after speaking.

I didn't dwell on it too much and followed him. It was the best start to a morning I had experienced in years. I missed my brother, his caring nature, and the little moments of happiness we shared.

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Happy reading

Lots of love

xxx