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An unstable home leaves behind invisible scars on the children who grew up watching the struggle.

Later that evening, the chaotic energy of the college melted away as the campus dispersed. Yash arrived back home, kicking off his shoes at the entrance.

The familiar aroma of home-cooked food filled the air, but there was an unusual, lively chatter coming from the living room.

Walking into the kitchen area, he saw his mother, Sunandha, fussing over a familiar figure sitting at the dining table.

It was his elder sister, Arohi who works as a school teacher in mumbai
"Hostel ka khaana kha-kha ke patli ho gayi hai meri beti," Sunandha was saying anxiously, piling an extra paratha onto Arohi's plate with typical maternal worry.

("My daughter has become so thin eating that hostel food constantly.")

Arohi laughed softly, shaking her head. "Nahi Maa, thik hoon main."

("No Mom, I am perfectly fine.")

Yash's face lit up with a genuine smile as he strode into the room. "Oh, Badi Didi! What a pleasant surprise!"

Arohi turned around, a playful smirk matching her brother's expressions perfectly. "Not so pleasant for me, trust me."

"Ouch," Yash chuckled, pulling up a chair right next to her and immediately plucking a piece of the paratha from her plate.

"Aate hi ragging shuru? Vaise, ab kab tak rahogi yahan?"

("Starting your ragging the moment you arrive? By the way, how long are you staying here now?")

Arohi's playful expression softened into something more settled. "Abhi toh yahin hoon. Actually, humare school ka naya branch Pune mein khul raha hai, aur maine wahan transfer maang li hai. So, I am permanently shifting back here." She then pointed a strict finger at him, her eyes narrowing playfully. "And let me tell you... jo mera bed tune kabza kar rakha hai na meri gair-maujudgi mein, woh bhi mera hi hai, samjhe?"

("I am here for good now. Actually, our school is opening a new branch in Pune, and I requested a transfer there. So, I am permanently shifting back here. And let me tell you... that bed of mine that you have captured in my absence, that is still mine, understood?")

"We'll see about that, teacher ji," Yash countered with an effortless wink, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

The sibling banter filled the house with a rare, beautiful warmth, making Sunandha smile properly for the first time in days.

For a few hours, they felt like a completely normal, happy family.
But some shadows are too deeply rooted to be chased away by a few hours of laughter.

Late at night, the house was pitched into total darkness. The clock on the wall ticked past 2:30 AM when a violent, blood-curdling shriek suddenly shattered the silence of the corridor.

"Nahi Papa! Please nahi! Main... main phir se kabhi call nahi aayega mera dosto ka ghar pe! I am sorry!"

("No Papa! Please no! My... my friends will never call the house phone ever again! I am sorry!")

The frantic, terrified screaming echoed directly from Arohi's bedroom.

Yash and Sunandha shot out of their respective beds instantly, their hearts hammering against their ribs as they rushed down the hallway. Yash threw the door open, flicking on the overhead light.

Arohi was sitting upright in the center of her bed, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide, vacant, and completely glazed over with terror, staring at a horrific memory that only she could see.

Tears were streaming down her face violently as she gasped for air, her entire chest heaving in the middle of a brutal, full-blown panic attack. She was hyperventilating, her hands trembling so hard she could barely grip her own blanket.

"Nahi... please... mat kaato meri chotti..." she sobbed hysterically, clawing frantically at her own long hair, trapped in a recurring nightmare where her abusive father was punishing her for a simple call from her friend..

("No... please... don't cut my hair...")

Yash felt a cold, sharp blade of pain pierce through his chest. Seeing his strong, independent elder sister reduced to a trembling, broken child in a matter of seconds was a sight that tore at his soul.

He forced his own raging emotions down, locking them behind a mask of absolute calm because he knew he had to be the anchor right now.

Sunandha rushed forward onto the mattress, throwing her arms completely around Arohi's shaking frame. She pulled her daughter's head tightly against her chest, rocking her back and forth as tears spilled from her own eyes.

"Nahi beta... kuch nahi hua hai. Tu safe hai yahan. Dekh mujhe, tu safe hai... Maa yahan hai," Sunandha cried softly, her voice a soothing, desperate mantra against Arohi's ear as she stroked her back.

("No my child... nothing happened. You are safe here. Look at me, you are safe... Mom is right here.")

Yash stood silently at the foot of the bed, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He watched as his mother slowly, painstakingly pulled Arohi out of the dark corridors of her past, whispering comfort until Arohi's erratic breathing finally slowed down.

After what felt like an eternity of muffled sobs, exhaustion finally took over, and Arohi drifted back into a heavy, traumatic sleep.

Gently laying her back down on the pillows, Sunandha wiped her own tears and quietly stepped out of the bedroom, with Yash following her into the dimly lit hallway.

The silence between mother and son was heavy, suffocating, and filled with years of unsaid truths.

Yash looked at his mother, his voice remarkably quiet, yet laced with a deep, crushing maturity. "See what Di has become now, Maa?"

Sunandha kept her eyes glued to the floor, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her guilt.

"You always thought that only you were enduring a toxic person in an abusive marriage," Yash said, the words cutting through the quiet night like broken glass.

"But it was never the case. The children in such marriages endure a massive amount of trauma and pain too. Her past is still hunting her down."

A broken gasp escaped Sunandha's lips as she buried her face in her hands, the harsh reality of his words hitting her like a physical blow.

"Haan... main galat thi," she cried silently, her voice trembling. "Main hamesha soochti thi ki at some point things might get improved... par cheezein kabhi badalti nahi hain, balki aur buri ho sakti hain. Aise hi intezaar karte-karte maine saal guzar diye... aur kya mila mujhe? Meri bachchi ke aadhi raat ke panic attacks aur darr..."

("Yes... I was wrong. I always thought that at some point things might get improved... but things never change, instead they can get much worse. Waiting like this, I wasted years of my life... and what did I get? My child's midnight panic attacks and terror...")

Yash stepped closer and gently placed a reassuring, steady hand on his mother's trembling shoulder. He didn't say a word. He couldn't.

Deep down, Yash knew exactly how Arohi felt. He carried his own hidden scars from that house, his own silent ghosts.

But looking at the two women he loved most in the world, a profound, agonizing helplessness settled deep into his bones.

As a sibling, it was affecting him badly, eating away at him from the inside out-because no matter how strong he tried to be, he couldn't reach into his sister's mind and tear away the trauma she had endured.

He could protect them from the world now, but he couldn't protect them from their own memories.

The next morning, the aggressive glare of the sun was softened by a cool Pune breeze filtering through the veranda.

Yash stood by the kitchen counter, quietly staring at the two steaming mugs of ginger tea he had just brewed.

For someone who usually ran on chaotic energy and effortless smirks, his movements were unusually slow, heavy with the lingering echo of his sister's midnight screams.

Picking up the mugs, he walked out to the balcony where Arohi was sitting, wrapped in a light shawl, her eyes slightly puffy but her posture calm.

He slid one mug onto the table beside her, leaning his back against the balcony railing as he took a slow sip from his own cup. He adjusted his features, instantly pulling up his classic, carefree persona like a protective shield.

"So... TeacherJi," Yash began, his voice carrying a light, teasing tilt as he winked. "I put extra ginger in there just the way you like it. I need to keep you in a good mood so you don't legally evict me from my bedroom anytime soon.

You look like you slept for an extra twelve hours anyway. Ready to rule your new school or are you already missing your boring hostel food?"

He laughed a little-that signature, easygoing chuckle that always made everything seem fine.

He kept his eyes locked on her face, his gaze casually scanning her expressions, silently searching for any lingering traces of the midnight terror, trying to gauge her mental state without making her feel vulnerable.

Arohi looked up from her tea. She didn't laugh. Instead, a deeply tender, knowing smile touched her lips as she looked right through the protective walls her younger brother had meticulously built up over the years.

She set her mug down on the glass table and looked straight into his eyes.
"Yash... tum mujhse seedhe-seedhe bhi pooch sakte ho," Arohi said softly, her voice dripping with absolute warmth.

("Yash... you can ask me directly also.")
Yash's smile faltered for a microsecond, but he quickly maintained it. "Ask what? I'm just making sure my roommate is comfortable."

Arohi sighed gently, reaching out and placing her hand over his wrist, anchoring him.

"Zaroori nahi hai ki tum hamesha apne saare emotions ko ek halki si hassi aur muskurahat ke peeche chhupao. Tum baaki ke jazbaat bhi express kar sakte ho, Yash. Mere saamne toh zaroori nahi hai."

("It's not always required to hide all your emotions behind a shadow of a smile and laughter. You can express other emotions too, Yash. At least in front of me, it's not required.")

The words hung in the quiet morning air, cutting clean through Yash's defenses.

The playful smirk completely vanished from his face, leaving behind the raw, vulnerable expression of a younger brother who loved his sister too much to see her break.

He lowered his mug, his shoulders dropping as the weight of his hidden worry finally showed in his eyes.

"I just..." Yash swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, looking away toward the horizon. "I hated seeing you like that last night, Di. I hate that... that he still has this hold over your peace, even when he isn't here. It makes me feel completely helpless."

Arohi's heart swelled with a beautiful, profound affection for him. She squeezed his wrist gently.

"I am fine, Yash. It was just a bad dream, and it will take time to completely unlearn that fear. But you don't have to carry the burden of being the strong one every single second of the day. It's okay to show that you're worried. It's okay to feel sad."

Yash looked back at her, a faint, genuine, and unshielded smile appearing on his lips-not to mask his pain, but out of pure gratitude for how beautifully his elder sister understood the real him, the version of Yash that the rest of the world never got to see.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Yash murmured softly, flipping his hand over to squeeze hers back. "But I'm glad you're strong enough to endure and heal, Di."

"Always, Yash," Arohi smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Now, sit down and let us talk how is your college going"

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