Nimesh's mom held my shoulders gently, like she was afraid I would fall apart again.
"Babu, calm down... tell me what happened," she said softly.
Nimesh stood beside her, quiet but worried. He kept looking at my face like he didn't know how to help but wanted to do everything he could.
I wiped my tears and finally spoke.
"Yesterday... my mom and dad fought on the phone," I said. "He works far away, and they argue a lot. After the call, she got angry and told me to come home immediately."
Just remembering it made my chest hurt again.
"I got scared. I remembered everything she's done before... so I ran home."
Nimesh's mom nodded slowly, asking nothing, just listening.
"When I reached home, she yelled at me," I whispered. "She said I don't do anything... that girls shouldn't go out... that my whole world should be home and chores. She kept shouting and shouting..."
My voice broke.
"And this morning she woke me up angrily. I told her my body hurt... that I was tired from crying yesterday. But she just got angrier. She beat me... and threw me out of the house."
Nimesh's mom hugged me before I could finish the sentence.
It felt strange, being held by someone who wasn't angry, who wasn't disappointed. It felt safe.
Nimesh just stood there, fists clenched, eyes red like he was fighting his own feelings.
He didn't talk, but he stayed close. And somehow that was enough.
They kept me in their home until afternoon. They gave me water, food, and a bed to lie on. I didn't even know how tired I was until I felt someone care.
But by the evening, guilt pulled me up.
"I should go home," I said. "If I don't return... it'll get worse."
Nimesh wanted to say something, I could see it but he didn't.
He just nodded with a tight jaw, like agreeing hurt him.
I left.
For many days, I didn't go to his house.
I didn't have the energy.
My face was swollen, my heart even more.
But we talked online, slowly, casually.
Little things at first.
"How was your day?"
"Did you eat?"
"Are you okay?"
And without trying, we started talking about real things, our lives, our families, everything we kept inside.
That's when I learned the truth.
Nimesh's father... had passed away.
He was the only child.
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Before I could stop myself, I typed:
"At least you had a home that loved you.
Mine doesn't even feel like mine."
And after that message... he didn't reply for almost an hour.
When he finally did, it wasn't a text.
It was a voice message.
Seven seconds long.
And the moment I pressed play...
my whole world shifted.
Because the voice I heard wasn't Nimesh's.
It was someone else.
Someone crying.
Someone I wasn't supposed to hear.