The days that followed were a study in quiet transformation.
The oppressive silence in the house remained, but for Dakshin, it was no longer a prison.
It was the fertile ground of a new beginning. The shattered illusion of his father's infallibility had liberated him.
The mantra of "duty" that had dictated his every move now felt like a relic from a past life.
He started small.
He reopened his engineering textbooks, but this time, it was different.
He wasn't studying to fulfill an expectation or to numb the pain. He was studying for himself.
The complex problems were no longer a refuge; they were a challenge he was choosing to accept. He found a strange, pure satisfaction in solving them,
a feeling untainted by obligation.
He texted Sarah back.
Dakshin: Do you and the others still meet at the cafe on Tuesdays?
Her reply was almost immediate.
Sarah: Always. 4 PM. Be there.
When he walked in, the familiar bell jingling overhead, a hush fell over his friends for a fraction of a second. Mark and Leo looked at him, their expressions a mix of caution and concern. Sarah just watched him, her gaze as analytical as ever.
"You're alive," Mark said, a tentative grin spreading across his face.
"Barely," Dakshin replied, but he matched the grin with a small, genuine one of his own. It felt foreign on his face, but not unpleasant.
He sat down. He didn't offer explanations, and they, respecting the unspoken boundary, didn't press. They simply slid back into their old rhythm—the easy banter, the complaints about professors, the plans for the weekend. Dakshin listened, he laughed at a stupid joke, and he contributed. He was present in a way he hadn't been for over a year.
Sarah, sitting beside him, nudged his shoulder with hers. "It's good to have you back," she said quietly, so only he could hear.
He nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over him. This was what he had been missing. Not the drama, not the weight of family legacy, but this simple, uncomplicated camaraderie.
Later, as they were leaving, Leo clapped him on the back. "Don't be a stranger, yeah?"
"I won't," Dakshin said, and he meant it.
Walking home, the evening air felt different. Lighter. The path ahead was still unclear, a vast, unmapped territory. But for the first time, the uncertainty felt like freedom, not fear. He had taken the first step out of the ruins, and he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would never allow himself to be walled in again. The journey to find himself, whoever that was, had finally begun.