The timer glowed in the darkened room, its digits climbing forward with merciless rhythm.18 years, 7 months, 4 days, 16 hours, 3 minutes, 11 seconds…
Mukul sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. For years, he had trained to master his mind, his body, his emotions—never bending, never showing weakness. But tonight, the weight was unbearable.
His voice cracked as he whispered to himself, "Eighteen years… and still no faces, no voices… only numbers."
The silence broke. His shoulders began to tremble. At first, it was subtle—like a storm building beneath calm waters. Then, suddenly, the dam shattered.
Mukul buried his face in his hands and wept.
The Listeners Outside
Unbeknownst to him, Aralyn stood just outside the doorway, frozen in place. Beside her were Liya Moreau, Rishika Raichand, Diya Knight, and Rhea Malhotra. The four cousins had followed her when they noticed something was wrong.
The sound of Mukul's sobs pierced the corridor—raw, unrestrained, utterly human.
Aralyn took a step forward, her hand hovering near the door. "He needs—"
But Diya stopped her with a firm grip on her wrist. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she whispered, "No. Let him cry."
Aralyn blinked in confusion. "But—"
Diya shook her head, her voice trembling. "My aunt told me… when she gave birth to him, he didn't cry. Not a sound. When she left him for training, when he was taken from her arms… even then, he didn't cry. This… this is the first time. Let him be. Let him release what he's carried all these years."
The First Tears
Inside the room, Mukul's sobs filled the silence. Each tear seemed to break apart the armor he had worn since birth.
He clutched at his chest, whispering brokenly, "Why… why couldn't I protect them? Why did I only live in shadows and training? Why is every second of my life just waiting, waiting, waiting…"
The timer ticked on. His sobs rose louder, and for once, Mukul wasn't the prodigy, the heir, or the warrior. He was just an eighteen-year-old boy who had carried too much for too long.
Witnesses of His Pain
The four cousins stood in silence, tears slipping down their own cheeks. For the first time, they saw the truth—Mukul was not invincible. He was a brother aching for siblings he had never seen, a son carrying his mother's sleepless sorrow, a boy who had forgotten what it meant to simply cry.
Aralyn's chest ached. She wanted to run to him, to hold him, to tell him he wasn't alone. But she stayed still, Diya's words echoing in her mind.
This moment wasn't about comfort. It was about release.
The Night That Changed Everything
And so they watched.They listened.They bore witness to the tears that had never come until now.
When Mukul finally collapsed against his pillow, exhausted from the storm, the timer still glowed in the darkness.
18 years, 7 months, 4 days, 16 hours, 21 minutes, 42 seconds.
For the first time in his life, Mukul had allowed himself to break. And in that breaking, his silent vow to find his siblings only grew stronger.