The night had grown quiet after the day's chatter and laughter. The others had long since gone to rest, but Mukul sat alone on the garden bench outside the estate, staring at the moonlit sky. His posture was steady, but his silence carried a thousand unspoken words.
Aralyn approached quietly, her steps soft against the stone path. She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside him.
"You always sit apart," she whispered.Mukul glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'm used to it."
A Gentle Probe
Aralyn studied his profile—the strength in his eyes, the weight he carried behind them."Earlier… your cousins told me a little about you. About your mother, about why you aren't in their family pictures."
For the first time, the smile faded. Mukul's jaw tightened. He said nothing, but his silence was enough.
Aralyn's voice softened. "I'm not asking you to explain everything. I just… want to know what you carry, if you're willing to share."
The Wound Revealed
Mukul leaned back, staring at the stars as if searching for answers in their glow."I never saw them, Aralyn. Not even once."
Aralyn frowned. "Who?"
"My brothers. My sisters. The ones my mother was separated from." His tone cracked for the first time. "I don't even know what they look like. There are no pictures. No memories. Nothing."
He turned his head slightly, the pain in his eyes illuminated by the moonlight."All I know… is what Maa told me. She described their faces, their laughter, their stubbornness… the last time she saw them before we were cast out. And since that day, she hasn't slept a single night without crying."
Aralyn's Realization
Aralyn's chest tightened at his words. She had expected sorrow, but not this—a life lived in absence, in shadows, with only words to paint the faces of lost family.
She whispered, "So the pictures your cousins showed me… they were only half the truth."
Mukul nodded faintly. "The other half… lives only in my mother's memories. Memories she passed on to me, so I would not forget the family I never met."
The Silent Vow
For a long moment, neither spoke. Aralyn placed her hand gently over his, her voice steady."One day, Mukul… you will see them. Not in broken stories, but with your own eyes. And when that happens, the empty spaces in those pictures will finally be filled."
Mukul closed his eyes, breathing slowly, as if holding onto her words. For the first time, someone had spoken to him not with pity or awe, but with quiet hope.
And in that moment, under the moonlight, a fragile bond formed—one that carried both his grief and her promise.