When you smile

chapter 48

As the car pulls into the driveway, my dad turns to me with excitement in his eyes and says, "Let's meet in one hour for our bicycle training, Dev!" His enthusiasm is infectious, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt as I glance at the clock. Today has been so much for me, and I'm exhausted, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. Every interaction, every shared word with others has drained me. All I want is to retreat to my bed, away from the crowd, away from people.

I muster up the courage to say, "Maybe tomorrow, Dad. I'm tired today." I can see the disappointment in his eyes, and it makes me feel even worse. It's not that I don't want to spend time with him or that I don't appreciate his efforts to connect with me. It's just that right now, I need some solitude to recharge, to gather myself.

I open the car door, ready to step out, but before I can make my escape, my dad's voice, filled with concern, breaks through the silence. "Are you okay, Dev?" he asks. I turn to look at him and offer a weak smile, nodding in response. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. I'm okay in the sense that I'm not physically hurt, but emotionally, I'm a mess.

I step out of the car and walk toward the main door, feeling the weight of the day's events still pressing down on me. It's a struggle, this constant battle between what I need for myself and what others expect from me. But for now, I need to find solace in the quiet of my room, where I can let my guard down and be alone with my thoughts.

I step into my room and close the door behind me, the gentle click of the latch echoing through the silence. The room is my sanctuary, a place where I can finally let my guard down and be myself, even if it's just for a little while.

Exhaustion washes over me like a heavy wave, and I slump against the door, my shoulders sagging. The events of the day replay in my mind like a never-ending loop. The constant social interactions, the effort to maintain a facade of normalcy, it's all taken its toll on me.

I kick off my shoes and let them tumble to the floor, not caring about the mess for now. My room is a refuge from the world outside, a space where I can breathe and be free from the expectations and judgments of others.

As I make my way to my bed, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever find the courage to be completely honest with my dad, to tell him the truth about who I am. It's a daunting thought, one that fills me with both longing and fear. I think about Raj, and my heart clenches in my chest, his eyes when he was asking if he has done anything wrong, his voice, oh his voice, his words were trembling when he pleaded, "Talk to me, Dev." I feel pathetic and cowardly. How can I hurt Raj, a person who has been so kind, who's been with me when I was hurt, and now I'm hurting him?

I lie down on my bed, the softness of the sheets providing a small comfort. The guilt gnaws at me, twisting my insides into knots. I've become the very thing I feared - the one causing pain to the person I care about the most. I've become pathetic and I hate myself even more.

 I want to run back, to tell Raj everything, to let him in, but the fear grips me like a vice. The fear of the unknown paralyzes me. I feel like a fool, a prisoner of my own fears and insecurities. I've hurt Raj, the one person who saw through my facade, who cared enough to ask if I was okay. And I let him down, just like I've let down so many others before.

But deep down, I know this isn't who I want to be. I want to be brave, to confront my past, and to embrace the possibility of love. But the scars of my trauma run deep, and they continue to hold me hostage. I am such a coward.

Thoughts swirl in my head, a jumble of emotions and uncertainties. I close my eyes, trying to clear my mind, and slowly, the exhaustion begins to pull me into its embrace.

In the quiet of my room, I allow myself to drift into a dreamless sleep, seeking solace in the darkness as I prepare to face the upcoming days, another set of challenges, and the constant struggle to bridge the gap between what life I'm living and what I want to live.