In Between Us || Zhanyi

Untitled Part 22

Under Work: 14/09/2024

Zhan was the eldest, the cherished firstborn. For the first four years, he was the center of attention, adored and pampered by everyone around him. He lived in a cocoon of love, showered with all the affection and care his little heart could hold. But when his sister was born, things began to shift, subtly at first. His parents loved him as deeply as ever, but there was a new refrain in their words: "You're the big brother now, Zhan. You need to understand."

From chocolates to toys........ lying on mother's lap or maybe the urged to get feed by his mother's own hand.......the playtime with his father..........the line always revolved...... "You are the older one, let her take, let her take, you are my big boy...right?, will do later, will give you later"

At first, it seemed harmless, a gentle nudge toward maturity. But over time, those words became an expectation that lingered over him, reshaping his world. The affection and pampering that once defined his days grew scarcer, replaced by responsibilities that grew heavier as he did. Family hardships, siblings disputes, and even his parents' own anxieties about life subtly shifted onto his young shoulders. Zhan learned to silence his own wants, quietly stepping into roles he barely understood—caretaker, peacemaker, the steady pillar in his family's moments of turmoil.

As the years passed, he wore the mantle of responsibility like a second skin, taking on everything from helping with chores to being the quiet source of comfort for his younger sister and brother. Soon, he no longer expected anyone to indulge or care for him in the way he once had. Sacrifice became second nature, and his laughter softened, replaced with a quiet resilience. In the process, affection grew distant, replaced by a deep, unspoken duty to hold his family together.

Zhan's life became a rhythm of tasks, responsibilities, and silent strength. He saw himself as the family's anchor, often forgetting that he, too, was just a child who once yearned to be cared for. The years of being "older" carved into him a stoic resilience, a selflessness that ran deep, and a quiet, unwavering love for his family—a definition of love that build on duty.

Zhan shaped himself into a father figure of quiet strength and steady selflessness. Over time, he stopped expecting affection, almost as if he'd forgotten what it felt like to be on the receiving end of care. His heart became a vessel for responsibility rather than emotion, a dependable anchor that bound him to his family without sway or hesitation. He was there to hold the family steady, his emotional needs cast aside to fulfill his role without complaint.

As he grow more....Expression, too, faded from Zhan's life. Emotions became impractical, mere distractions from the duty he felt bound to uphold. As his family leaned on him more heavily, his emotions drifted further into the background, replaced by a stoic resolve to be unwavering and resilient. In Zhan's eyes, life had given him a purpose—to support and to protect—and he took it upon himself to be the unmovable center, never allowing himself to falter.

Now that Zhan was married, his nature remained unchanged. He was still the provider, the protector—steady and reliable. Yet, when it came to affection, Zhan found himself at a loss. Years of stifling his own emotional needs and suppressing his emotions had left him out of practice, unable to convey warmth in the easy, natural ways others seemed to. He was generous in action and diligent in every responsibility, ensuring his spouse wanted for nothing—except, perhaps, the simple gestures of closeness he found himself struggling to give. In his mind, love had always been something demonstrated through providing and protecting, not with gentle words, soft embraces or quite care.