Author pov...

Hearing Neel’s voice, Aisha stops in her tracks, her eyes widening in disbelief. “So… you can speak?” she says softly, a mix of surprise and hope in her tone.

But before she can understand anything more, Neel turns away and starts to leave.

Confused yet determined, Aisha follows him, her footsteps quick and restless behind him. “Say it again,” she insists, her voice trembling with curiosity. “You just said thank you to me… it was your voice, wasn’t it?

Then why aren’t you speaking now?

Why are you silent again?”

Neel doesn’t turn back.

He keeps walking, his silence heavier than words, as if he’s carrying something he cannot let anyone see.

Somehow, without looking at her even once, he reaches his classroom and slips inside, as though escaping from the moment itself.

Aisha is just about to step in after him, her heart still pounding with unanswered questions, when suddenly her friend appears and grabs her arm.

“What are you doing here? Come on, ma’am is calling you,” her friend says urgently.

Aisha hesitates, glancing once more toward the classroom door where

Neel disappeared. “Okay…” she murmurs, letting herself be pulled away.

From inside the classroom, Neel stands near the window, his eyes fixed on Aisha as she walks away down the corridor.

He watches her until she disappears from sight  a silent ache settling deep in his chest, as if the words he couldn’t say are now echoing only inside him.

Day after day, it became a quiet routine.

Aisha finding Neel somewhere in the school, as if her heart had learned to search for him on its own.

Sometimes it was in the corridor, sometimes under the staircase, sometimes during lunch when the classroom buzzed with noise and laughter that never quite reached him.

On the days Neel came without a tiffin, Aisha would slide her lunchbox toward him without a word, her eyes soft but stubborn.

He would refuse at first, shaking his head, his fingers tightening around his book like it was a shield.

But Aisha would open the lid anyway, breaking a piece of roti, holding it out to him with a tiny frown as if she would be personally offended if he didn’t take it.

And slowly… he did.

At first, just a small bite. Then another.

Until it became something unspoken between them her bringing food, him quietly eating, both pretending it didn’t mean anything when it meant everything.

Whenever she saw him anywhere in school, she would run to him like a burst of sunlight breaking into a silent room.

She told him everything how the teacher scolded the class, how her pen leaked ink, how she almost laughed during assembly.

Her words tumbled over each other, messy and alive.

Neel would sit there, still as ever, eyes lowered to his book, turning pages he probably wasn’t even reading.

But he never walked away. And that was enough for Aisha to keep coming back.

Seasons changed, exams came and went, and without noticing, an entire year slipped through their fingers.

Neel never truly spoke to her not the way she secretly waited for.

It was always her voice filling the silence, her presence wrapping around his loneliness.

She began bringing two tiffins every day one for herself, one for him  like a habit stitched into her heart.

Then summer crept in, warm and restless.

On one of the last school days before the holidays, Aisha sat beside him at lunch, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Neel, I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said, her eyes glowing, cheeks flushed with happiness. “I’m going to my grandma’s house. I love it there so much… she has trees full of mangoes, and Kalu just had babies tiny ones! I’ll play with them all day. Mom and Ayush are coming too. Only Dad isn’t… he has too much office work.”

Her laughter spilled into the air, bright and carefree.

Neel kept staring at his book, but his fingers had stopped turning the page.

But he stayed silent.

Aisha left for her grandmother’s house as the summer holidays began, her laughter and excitement filling the air as she went with her mother and Ayush.

And just like that, Neel was alone again.

School had always been his only refuge the one place where the shouting stopped, where no one ordered him around, where he could sit in a corner and exist without fear.

But now even that small escape had been taken away.

The long summer days stretched ahead like an endless road with no shelter, no destination.

For the first time, the silence felt suffocating instead of safe.

Ravindra, his father, saw everything  the tired eyes, the shrinking shoulders, the way Neel tried to disappear into walls.

Guilt lived permanently in his chest now.

He knew what happened in his own house after he left for work.

He knew his Second wife’s anger turned into cruelty the moment the door closed behind him.

He had tried to stop her so many times. Fought with her. Begged her. Warned her. Nothing worked.

After he left each morning, Neel was turned into a servant in his own home forced to clean, cook, carry, endure.

Sometimes he wasn’t even given food, as if hunger itself was a punishment he deserved. And Neel… never protested.

Never cried in front of anyone.

He just absorbed it all, like pain was something he had accepted as his fate.

Ravindra had thought of sending him to a hostel somewhere safe, somewhere kind.

But every time he imagined it, another fear rose inside him.

Neel was the last piece of his first wife, the last trace of the woman he had loved and lost.

If the boy left too… the house would become emptier than a grave.

So he kept him close even if closeness meant watching him break a little more each day.

That morning, as Ravindra adjusted his tie and prepared to leave for the office, an uneasy feeling crept over him.

The house was too quiet. No faint sounds from Neel’s room. No soft footsteps.

No movement at all.

His heart began to pound.

Ravindra hurried to Neel’s room, his heart thudding with a fear he couldn’t explain.

He pushed the door open and saw Neel lying on the bed, unusually still, the blanket half-slipped from his frail body.

A strange unease crept into his chest. Neel always woke up early earlier than everyone else in the house quietly finishing his chores before the day even began.

But today… there was nothing. No movement. No sound.

“What happened today… why didn’t he wake up?” Ravindra murmured to himself, his voice already trembling.

He walked closer and gently placed his hand on Neel’s forehead.

His breath caught.

Neel was burning with fever.

Panic surged through him.

His hands began to shake as he fumbled for his phone, immediately calling the doctor, his words rushing over each other in fear.

After hanging up, he ran to bring a bowl of cold water, sitting beside the bed as he placed damp cloth strips on Neel’s forehead again and again, as if trying to cool not just the fever but his own rising guilt.

Minutes felt like hours until the doctor finally arrived.

Ravindra stood nearby, helpless and anxious, watching every movement as the doctor examined the fragile boy.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Finally, the doctor straightened and spoke, his tone serious.

“He has a high fever because of overwork and lack of proper food. He’s weak… malnourished. He needs good meals, rest, and care. Otherwise his condition will only worsen.”

Each word struck Ravindra like a blow.

His eyes moved slowly to Neel’s pale face the sunken cheeks, the tired eyelids, the child who had been suffering right in front of him while he failed to protect him.

The doctor prescribed medicines and quietly left, leaving behind a heavy truth that could no longer be ignored.

Just then, Rukmini, Neel’s stepmother, entered the room, irritating already on her face. “What happened to him now?” she scoffed. “What new drama is he doing this time?”

Something inside Ravindra snapped.

“Have some shame, Rukmini!” he thundered, his voice shaking with anger. “He is a child. Don’t you feel even a little pity making someone so small work like this?”

Rukmini crossed her arms defensively. “If he doesn’t do the work, then who will? With your small salary, we can’t even afford a maid. I have my own children to look after.

If I start doing all the housework, who will take care of Rohan and Kriti?”

Her words only fueled his fury.

“Enough!” Ravindra shouted, pointing toward the door. “Leave this room right now. Neel will not do any work from today. He is sick can’t you see that?”

Startled by the sharpness in his voice, Rukmini fell silent for once and walked away.

The room grew quiet again, except for the faint sound of Neel’s uneven breathing.

Ravindra sat beside the bed, his anger melting into helpless sorrow as he looked at the child.

Ravindra did not go to the office that day. Instead, he stayed home, taking leave for a few days just to care for Neel.

For the first time, he stepped into the kitchen himself cooking, learning, trying all for the child he had failed to protect for so long.

He fed Neel with his own hands, sat beside him through the fever, and watched over him like a man desperate to undo the past.

Slowly, Neel began to recover.

Rukmini watched all this, her jealousy simmering, but she stayed silent in front of Ravindra, unable to voice her bitterness.

A week passed, and Ravindra had to return to work.

The thought of leaving Neel alone again filled him with worry.

He knew exactly what would happen the moment he stepped out.

“Come with me to the office today,” he said softly, trying to protect him.

Neel shook his head, lowering his eyes, retreating into his usual silence.

Ravindra asked again, gently, but got no answer.

There was no choice. He left for work, his heart heavy with helplessness.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rukmini’s sharp voice cut through the house.

“So the week-long drama is over,” she snapped. “Now start working. There’s so much left to do.”

And Neel obeyed.

He swept, mopped, washed dishes, scrubbed piles of clothes, and cooked moving like a small shadow through the house. He had been doing this since he was five.

It no longer felt unfair; it simply felt like his destiny.

Fear kept him silent  fear of being beaten, fear of his school clothes being burned, fear of losing the little peace he had.

Days passed in the same dull pain.

Then, in the last week of summer vacation, a light appeared at the end of his long, silent days.

Aisha returned home from her grandmother’s house, which was far away  hours of travel separating her world from Neel’s.

She had come back carrying bags full of golden, sweet mangoes, her laughter spilling into the air like sunshine.

Among all the mangoes, she had brought plenty for Neel.

“I want to go to Neel’s house,” she told her mother, Shilpa.

“We’ll give them to his father,” Shilpa replied gently. “He’ll give them to Neel.”

But Aisha shook her head firmly. “No. I want to give them to Neel myself.”

Her determination was absolute  a little fire of kindness that refused to be ignored.

Shilpa finally agreed, and they went to together, far away, across roads and streets, to Neel’s house.

Aisha and Shilpa finally reached Neel’s house in their car.

As they stepped inside, the first thing that hit them was the sound  harsh shouting, sharp and cruel.

Rukmini’s voice rang through the house, yelling at Neel.

Aisha froze, her small hands clutching Shilpa’s arm.

Fear shot through her like ice.

Step by step, they moved further into the house, trying to see what was happening without being noticed.

And then they saw it.

Rukmini’s hand came down hard on Neel’s face. The boy crumpled to the floor, the impact echoing in the silent room.

Aisha’s eyes widened in terror. Her breath caught in her throat.

Shilpa stood frozen, shock making her heart pound she had never imagined the cruelty she was witnessing.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Then, Rukmini’s gaze landed on Shilpa. Recognition flickered across her face. “Oh… Madam ji! You’re here?” she said, her voice shifting slightly, surprise mixed with caution.

Shilpa’s eyes blazed with anger as she glared at Rukmini.

Rukmini’s tone softened, almost theatrically. “Come, come, Madam ji. Neel, go get some water and snacks… look, Madam ji has come home for the first time.”

Her eyes then landed on Aisha, and a smile curved her lips. “Ohh… and this little girl must be Aisha, right?” she said warmly, though a strange tension lingered.

Aisha and Shilpa didn’t speak. The silence was heavy. Rukmini, noticing their quiet, thought to herself, “Did they see… did they see me hitting Neel?”

Shilpa’s voice was calm but firm. “I didn’t come here to sit and chat. I just brought a few mangoes for Neel. Aisha and Neel are friends, right? So I came because Aisha insisted. Here, take them.”

Rukmini’s smile was forced, almost theatrical. “Oh... It’s your first time here, you should have come inside at least,” she said, trying to sound casual.

Shilpa shook her head. “No, I have to go. There’s work waiting at home,” she replied, motioning toward her driver.

Rukmini’s eyes softened as she looked at the mangoes so many golden, ripe mangoes and she reached for them, taking them from the driver with a bright, almost unnatural smile. “Thank you, Madam ji,” she said politely.

Shilpa didn’t respond. She simply held Aisha’s hand, and together they walked out to the car. The driver followed, and soon they were on the road, leaving the house behind.

Aisha stayed frozen in her seat the entire way.

Her small hands gripped the edge of the door as she stared out at the passing streets, her heart heavy.

Every thought, every moment, went back to Neel the way he had been beaten, the fear in his eyes, the quiet resignation he carried like a second skin.

On the way home, the car was quiet, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence.

Aisha’s small fingers twisted nervously in her lap, and after a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice trembling with curiosity and worry.

“Mummy… why was Neel’s… mummy hitting him like that?”

Shilpa glanced at her daughter, her heart aching at the innocence in her eyes. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.

“Aisha… Neel’s real mother… she’s no longer alive,” Shilpa said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “The woman you saw today… Rukmini… she’s his stepmother.”

Aisha’s eyes widened. “Stepmother? What’s that?” she asked, her small voice full of confusion.

Shilpa reached over and held her daughter’s hand gently. “A stepmother is a woman who marries a child’s father after the child’s real mother has passed away. Sometimes… they love the children, sometimes… they don’t. That’s why Neel’s stepmother… Rukmini… treats him the way she does. He’s her husband’s son, but not her own, so she doesn’t understand him the way a mother should.”

Aisha nodded slowly, the words heavy on her young mind.

That night, Aisha couldn’t stop thinking about Neel.

She lay in her bed, the image of him quiet, small, and beaten down playing over and over in her mind.

Her tiny fists clenched under the blanket as worry filled her chest.

Later, her father, Yogesh, came into her room. “Papa,” Aisha whispered, her voice trembling, “we should save Neel… from his stepmother, shouldn’t we?”

Yogesh raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Who told you all this, Aisha?” he asked gently.

“Mummy told me,” Aisha replied.

Yogesh turned to Shilpa, his expression serious. “Shilpa… what have you been teaching her?”

Shilpa took a deep breath and explained the fear Neel had to endure.

She told him about Rukmini, about how Neel had been suffering silently, and how they had witnessed it.

Yogesh listened quietly, nodding slowly. “I already knew all this,” he said finally. “That’s why last summer, I made sure Neel spent his vacation at our house. But this time… you weren’t there, so I couldn’t bring him.”

Shilpa’s anger flared. “Ravindra Bhaisaab should leave that woman! How can someone treat a small child like this?”

Yogesh sighed, shaking his head. “Ravindra isn’t strong enough to leave his wife. And he has two other children… it’s complicated.”

Shilpa’s eyes narrowed,determination in her voice. “Hmm… but we can do something for that child. Starting tomorrow, you have to tell Ravindra Bhaisaab to leave Neel at our house.”

Yogesh’s face softened, and he smiled. “Yes… I will tell him. I promise.”

......................................................................................

Like and comment please 🙏❤️