By the time Arjun entered college, the distance between him and his parents had grown wide and unspoken.
He stayed longer at the hostel, claiming extra classes, though it was the freedom he craved. There, with friends, he laughed, played, and shared feelings freely. He found warmth that his home never offered.
When he returned during holidays, the house felt smaller. His parents still sat counting, still worrying. His attempts to talk about his dreams were met with practicality.
"Appa, I want to try photography seriously," he once said.
Raghavan frowned. "That won't earn you money. Stick to engineering. Security is more important than passion."
Meera served tea quietly, her eyes darting between father and son, saying nothing.
Arjun learned to stop sharing. He became polite, distant, dutiful only in form. Love had drained away, replaced by obligation.