A bustling junkyard under the scorching sun. The camera pans to Aarav, a young man in torn gloves and a sweat-stained shirt, unloading scraps from a truck. His movements are mechanical, his face marked by exhaustion but illuminated by quiet determination.

“It’s been three years since my father’s mission. Three years of searching, waiting, and hoping—hoping for something, anything, to bring him back. But the world doesn’t stop for anyone. College feels like a distant memory now. After seeing that photo and learning the truth about my adoptive parents’ past, I’ve come to understand the weight of their sorrow... and their sacrifices.”

Aarav wipes his brow, sits on a rusted crate, and takes a long sip from a water bottle. His phone buzzes with a reminder for hospital bills. His expression hardens, and he looks out over the endless piles of junk, the hum of machinery and clatter of metal filling the air.

“My uncle avoided my questions for a year. And when he finally spoke... everything changed.”

The screen shifts to a dimly lit room. Aarav sits across from his uncle, his eyes searching for answers. The air is thick with tension.

Aarav: “What happened to them? Why did everything fall apart?”

The uncle hesitates, his hands trembling slightly. He looks down before speaking, his voice heavy with grief.

Uncle: “Your father... he wasn’t always the man you remember. He had a life before you—a successful career, respect, everything a man could dream of. But life isn’t fair, Aarav. He and your mother had a son, your brother. He was their world, but he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. They poured everything they had into trying to save him. They sold their home, took loans they couldn’t repay, and begged for time they didn’t have.”

Aarav’s eyes widen, disbelief and sorrow washing over him.

Aarav (softly): “A brother? I... I never knew.”

Uncle: “They didn’t want you to know. Despite everything they did, they lost him. It broke them, Aarav. But then you came into their lives. You were their second chance, their reason to keep going. You brought joy back when they thought they’d never feel it again.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Aarav’s fists clench, his guilt palpable.

Uncle (continuing): “They didn’t tell you because they didn’t want you to carry the burden of their past. They wanted you to have a future free from sorrow. That’s why they shielded you. They loved you more than anything.”

Aarav lowers his head, tears streaming down his face. His voice cracks as he speaks.

Aarav: “I was so blind... I never saw what they were going through. I was too caught up in my own world.”

His uncle places a comforting hand on Aarav’s shoulder.

Uncle: “You were a kid, Aarav. You didn’t know. But now you do. What you do with that knowledge is up to you.”

Back in the present, Aarav walks through the junkyard, wiping his brow. The camera lingers on his weary face as his voiceover continues.

Aarav (Voiceover):“I drop ped out of college to take care of things—to pay off debts, keep the lights on, and cover my mother’s hospital bills. The doctors say she’s stable, but stable doesn’t mean better. And my father... three years, and still nothing. Not a single clue. Even the police couldn’t help.”

Flashback to Aarav sitting in a police station, clutching a faded photo of his father. The officer shakes his head sympathetically.

Officer: “We’ve done everything we can, son. I’m sorry.”

Back to the present. Aarav sits in a small, dimly lit room. The fan creaks overhead, and water drips from a leaky pipe. He counts his earnings for the week, the weight of his responsibilities evident.

Aarav (muttering): “Just enough for the bills... but barely.”

He glances at a photograph of his mother on the bedside table, her smile a painful reminder of what he’s fighting for. Cut to the hospital, where Aarav sits by her bedside, holding her frail hand.

Aarav (softly): “You have to get better, Ma. I... I can’t do this without you.”

His phone buzzes with a message from his uncle: "Don’t forget, we’re meeting tomorrow to talk about the photo." Aarav reads it, his jaw tightening with determination.

Aarav back at the junkyard, silhouetted against the setting sun. His hands are dirtied, his body weary, but his eyes remain unyielding.

Aarav (whispering): “One day, I’ll find you, Dad. I promise.”