Chapter 11 — Arin Sets Boundaries
The living room felt smaller than he remembered.
Arin's parents sat across from him, hands folded, eyes wary.
Neel lingered in the corner, silent.
"I'm glad you're alive," his mother whispered, voice trembling.
Arin's eyes didn't soften.
"Being alive doesn't mean I owe you anything," he said quietly but firmly.
His father flinched.
"We… we just want to make things right," he said, voice rough.
"Right?" Arin echoed. "Do you even know what that means?
You raised me to hide, to shrink, to be invisible.
I left because living there was dying slowly.
I came back because I could—because I chose to survive.
Not because I needed your approval."
His mother's lips quivered.
"I… I just…"
"Stop. Don't speak. Listen." Arin leaned back, gaze sharp.
"I will allow you near my life, but I will not allow the past to touch me anymore.
I have a wife. A son. A life I built from nothing.
You'll respect it. Or you'll leave."
Silence.
Neel's shoulders slumped. His parents' faces crumpled in shame and sorrow.
Arin's voice softened slightly, just enough to cut through the tension:
"I will let you see him. My son. But understand this—he is mine.
Do not confuse patience with permission to hurt again."
Tears streamed silently down his mother's cheeks.
His father nodded, swallowing hard.
Neel whispered, "We'll follow your rules… whatever they are."
Arin exhaled, letting the weight of years sit between them.
The bridge had been built.
But it was fragile. And only time—and respect—could make it strong.