Downstairs, the tension is suffocating. Rajesh is pacing the living room, his face flushed with anger and frustration.

“She’s ungrateful!” he roars. “Do you even realize how much we’ve sacrificed for her, Anjali? Everything we’ve done, every penny we’ve earned—it’s all for her! And what do we get in return? This indifference? This disrespect?”

Anjali sits quietly on the sofa, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “Rajesh, please, calm down. Yelling won’t solve anything,” she says gently, though her voice carries a trace of exhaustion.

“No, Anjali, don’t tell me to calm down!” Rajesh snaps, his voice rising. “She doesn’t care! She has no gratitude, no respect for what we’ve gone through. Neki kar dariya mein daal! That’s all this feels like. We gave her everything, and this is how she repays us?”

Anjali looks up at him, her eyes pleading. “Let me talk to her,” she says, her tone soft but firm.

Rajesh stops pacing and sighs heavily, dropping onto the couch. “Go ahead. Maybe she’ll listen to you. But I’m telling you, Anjali, she needs to understand what she’s doing to us.”

---

Anjali takes a deep breath and walks upstairs, a plate of food in her hands. She hesitates outside Vrishti’s door, her heart heavy with worry. When she pushes the door open, she finds Vrishti lying on her bed, one earbud dangling from her ear.

“Vrishti,” Anjali says softly as she steps inside.

Vrishti doesn’t look at her. “What now, Maa?” she asks, her voice flat, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Anjali places the plate on the bedside table and sits on the edge of the bed. “We need to talk, beta,” she says gently.

---

Mother and Daughter.

Talk. That’s all they ever want to do. Like words can fix everything that’s wrong. Like words can erase years of feeling out of place.

“Vrishti, your father and I… we’re doing our best for you,” Maa starts, her voice careful, like she’s stepping on glass.

I sit up abruptly, my chest tight with a mix of anger and exhaustion. “Your best?” I snap, my words cutting through the quiet. “Maa, do you even understand what it’s like to be me?”

“Of course I do,” she says, her brow furrowing. “I’m your mother. I’ve been with you through everything.”

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“No, Maa, you don’t understand,” I reply, my voice trembling. “You and Papa keep saying you’ve done everything for me, that you love me, that you’re worried. But do you know what it’s like to grow up feeling like you don’t belong anywhere?”

“Vrishti, we were struggling then. We—”

I cut her off, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Struggling? Maa, we were drowning! I couldn’t even go to a proper school! I watched other kids have everything—education, toys, clothes—and I had nothing. Do you know what that does to a person? To a child? It made me stop wanting anything because it was easier to pretend I didn’t care than to live with the disappointment.”

Maa’s face crumbles, her lips trembling. “Beta, we did the best we could with what we had. It was never easy, but we made it through. And now, we’re trying to give you everything we couldn’t before.”

“Too late,” I mutter, my voice cracking. “It’s too late, Maa. Suppressing my desires for years… it changed me. I don’t want anything anymore. I don’t dream, I don’t hope, and I definitely don’t care about anything you or Papa expect of me.”

“Don’t say that,” she says desperately, her hands reaching for mine. “You’re our daughter, Vrishti. We love you. Your father… he works so hard because he loves you.”

I let out a bitter laugh, pulling my hands away. “Do you think I don’t know that? That I don’t see it? I know, Maa. I know what he did. I know he became a test subject for some shady experiment just to get us out of that hole.”

Maa freezes, her eyes wide. “What… what are you talking about?”

“You think I didn’t notice the scars? The way he came home looking like he’d been to war? Or that I didn’t hear you two whispering about it late at night? I was a kid, Maa, not stupid.”

Her face pales, her hands trembling as she tries to find the words. “Vrishti… we… we didn’t want you to know. We wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I laugh bitterly, tears stinging my eyes. “Maa, you put your lives on the line for me, and now you expect me to just live with that? To be okay with the fact that my father risked his life for a future I never asked for?”

“Vrishti,” she says, her voice breaking, “your father did what he thought was right. We both did. For you.”

“For me?” I whisper, the weight of the truth pressing down on my chest. “Maa, I never asked for this. I never wanted you or Papa to suffer for me. And now, I’m the one who has to carry this guilt. Every single day.”

Her tears flow freely now, but she doesn’t say a word. What could she say? There are no words that can fix this.

I lie back down, turning away from her. “Just… leave me alone, Maa. Please.”

Anjali lingers for a moment, her presence heavy with unspoken words. Then she stands and walks to the door, closing it softly behind her.

---

Mother and Father

Downstairs, Anjali sinks into the couch, her face pale and tear-streaked. Rajesh looks up, his brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face.

“What happened?” he asks cautiously, his voice unusually soft.

“She knows,” Anjali whispers, her voice trembling as if the words themselves are too heavy to carry.

“Knows what?” Rajesh leans forward, his knuckles whitening as he grips the edge of the coffee table.

Anjali’s hands shake uncontrollably, tears welling up again. “About the experiment, Rajesh. She knows everything. She’s known for years.”

The color drains from Rajesh’s face. He stands abruptly, his fists clenched, his body rigid. “How?” he demands, his voice breaking. “How could she know?”

Anjali sobs quietly, wiping her face with trembling fingers. “She overheard us back then. We weren’t careful enough. She saw the scars. She pieced it all together on her own. Rajesh… she’s been carrying that weight all this time, and we… we didn’t even see it.”

Rajesh collapses back onto the couch, his head in his hands. His shoulders tremble as the realization hits him like a tidal wave. “I thought I was protecting her,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We both did,” Anjali replies, her words shaky but filled with guilt. “But instead, we made her feel abandoned. She’s been carrying this alone, Rajesh. All this pain, all this anger… it’s not just hers. It’s ours too.”

Rajesh raises his head, his eyes bloodshot and glistening with unshed tears. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, his voice cracking under the weight of his own fear.

“No,” Anjali says, though her voice wavers. “But she’s hurt. She’s so, so hurt. And we… we’re part of the reason why.”

Silence falls over the room, but it’s not peaceful. It’s heavy, suffocating, filled with regrets they can’t take back and wounds they can’t heal with words.

“I just wanted her to have a better life,” Rajesh whispers, his voice breaking as a single tear escapes and rolls down his cheek.

Anjali reaches for his hand, her grip firm despite her trembling fingers. “We have to help her, Rajesh. Not force her. Not guilt her. Just… help her.”

The two sit in silence, their hands clasped tightly, as the weight of their choices presses down on them.