Rowan
I learned early that silence could be violent.
In my house, quiet never meant peace. It meant something was coming. A comment sharp enough to stay lodged under the skin. A look that reminded you of your place. Expectations disguised as concern. Control dressed up as family.
So I left early.
I always did.
The park was already awake when I reached it. Joggers. Old couples walking in sync. Kids dragging backpacks bigger than their futures. Everyone moving somewhere. Everyone pretending they weren't running from something.
"Bro, you look like you're about to punch the morning," Kunal said, tossing me a bottle of water.
I caught it without looking. "Mornings deserve it."
Aarav laughed beside him. "Still allergic to peace, I see."
"Peace is overrated," I replied. "It makes people weak."
They rolled their eyes. They always did. They liked to pretend they understood me. That was easier than actually trying.
We sat on the low wall near the park entrance, talking about nothing important. Work. Classes. A stupid argument Aarav had with his girlfriend. Kunal was complaining about how women expected emotional availability like it was a basic requirement.
I stayed quiet.
"You ever think about dating again?" Kunal asked suddenly.
I turned my head slowly. "No."
"That was fast."
"Because the answer doesn't change."
Aarav studied me for a moment. "You don't even let anyone get close enough to disappoint you anymore."
"That's the point."
They didn't push after that. Good. I didn't owe anyone access to my past.
After they left, I walked deeper into the park, hands in my pockets, jaw tight. Every couple I passed felt like a performance. Smiles too polished. Laughter too loud. Everyone convincing themselves love didn't come with a price.
I'd paid mine early.
Bullied as a kid. Pushed around. Told to stay quiet. Told to adjust. Somewhere along the way, I decided that would never happen again. I learned to be louder. Sharper. Dominant.
Fear worked better than kindness.
At least fear didn't leave.
I stopped near the trees, staring at my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. People saw confidence when they looked at me. Control. Strength.
They didn't see the constant readiness to fight. The instinct to win every conversation. The way vulnerability felt like standing naked in front of a firing squad.
I didn't want love.
Love meant giving someone the power to hurt you.
I'd already learned what it felt like to be powerless.
As I turned to leave, my gaze drifted to an empty bench across the path. For a second, I imagined someone sitting there. Someone quiet. Someone not demanding anything from me.
The thought annoyed me.
I shook it off and walked away.
Some people weren't meant to collide yet.
And I wasn't ready to let anyone in.