Dev's P.O.V.

The shock is immediate and overwhelming. My stomach churns with a sickening feeling, and my hands start to tremble involuntarily. Panic sets in, and I'm left reeling, unable to process what just happened. This isn't the dad I've been connecting with today. It's a stark reminder of the distance that still exists, and it fills me with a deep sense of discomfort and unease.

As his disapproving expression widens before my eyes, my anxiety surges to the surface like a tidal wave. Panic grips me, and I can feel my heart racing, pounding against my chest as if trying to break free. My breath becomes shallow and rapid, struggling to find a rhythm.

The clothing racks around me seem to close in, the colors and patterns blurring together in a dizzying swirl. I glance around nervously, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that everyone in the store is judging me, just like my dad did.

My hands, already trembling, begin to feel clammy, and I clench and unclench them, trying to regain some semblance of control. I wish I could escape, find a quiet corner to catch my breath, but I'm frozen in place, unable to move.

I make my way over to my mom, who's browsing through clothes in a quiet corner of the store. Her back is turned to me as she examines a T-shirt, and she doesn't notice me approaching until I'm right beside her. When she finally turns and sees my face, her expression shifts from casual interest to deep concern.

"Dev, you okay?" she asks, her voice filled with worry.

I can't find the words to respond, so I simply shake my head, a subtle yet desperate plea for understanding.

Her gaze follows mine, and she notices the young couple near my dad. Her eyes then shift to my dad, who seems oblivious to the tension building around us.

Without saying a word, my mom makes a decision. She sets down the T-shirt she was holding and gently takes my hand. Her touch is reassuring, a lifeline in this moment of anxiety. With a determined look in her eyes, she heads towards my dad.

I watch as she approaches him, unsure of what she'll say. She engages in a brief conversation with him, their voices hushed. He appears confused at first, but as she speaks, he begins to understand.

Finally, he nods in reluctant agreement, and my mom turns back to me, her face softening with understanding. "We're going home, is that okay with you?" she says gently.

I nod, relieved that she's understood my unspoken plea. My anxiety is still present, but the thought of leaving this overwhelming situation offers some comfort. With my mom by my side, we head toward the store's exit, leaving behind the discomfort and disapproval that had engulfed us moments ago.

As we leave the store, I can't help but glance back one last time at the gay couple. They're still there, enjoying their time together, oblivious to the impact they've had on my day.

My mom and I sit together in the back seat of the car as we drive away from the mall, leaving behind our initial plans to watch a movie. The silence in the car is heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken words and the lingering turmoil that has settled in my chest.

As I sit there, my heart feels like it's in a vice grip, and my anxiety intensifies with every passing second. The comment my dad made, the disgusted look he gave that gay couple in the store, it's all swirling in my mind like a relentless storm. I can't help but feel like I'm drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions.

A part of me is angry, furious even, at my dad's judgmental attitude. How could he be so insensitive, so intolerant? I thought today was a turning point for us, a chance to bond and bridge the gap that had existed for so long. But his words and that look shattered that hope into a million pieces.

Yet, beneath the anger, there's an overwhelming sense of sadness. It's the realization that despite my efforts to connect with my dad, there are still aspects of him that I can't change. His prejudice and disdain for something as beautiful as love between two people, regardless of their gender, cuts deep.

My anxiety is a tangled mess of fear and unease. The panic is relentless, and I can feel my pulse quicken as I struggle to hold myself together. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps, and I wish I could just disappear, escape from this car, or this world or anywhere away from this messy situation.

But then I feel my mom's fingers on my arm, her understanding and support, is a lifeline, a reminder that not everything in this world is terrible. Her touch on my hand is a source of comfort in this sea of turmoil.

As soon as we pull into the driveway and the car comes to a stop, I can't get out fast enough. Without a word, I exit the car, and there's a sense of urgency in my steps as I make my way into the house. The front door closes behind me, and I race up the stairs to my room, shutting the door firmly behind me.

Inside my room, I'm finally alone, away from the prying eyes and disapproving comments. But the solitude only amplifies the turmoil within me. My thoughts race, and my emotions are a turbulent whirlwind.

I want so desperately to be close to my dad, to feel his love in my life. I yearn for his acceptance, to be able to share my true self with him without fear of judgment. It's a longing that has been with me for as long as I can remember.

I collapse onto my bed, my mind swirling in confusion. The truth is, I've never really thought about my own sexuality. Raj and I, we've always been drawn to each other naturally, like magnets. The attraction between us felt so effortless, so genuine, that I never stopped to question it.

I find myself frozen in disbelief, my dad's comment shouldn't have affected me, should it? But the mere mention of their existence sparked a flicker of recognition deep within me.

Suddenly, memories flood my mind. I remember the taste of Raj's lips, the way his touch sent shivers down my spine. I recall the countless evenings spent tangled in each other's arms, searching for solace and connection. And yet, all this time, I never stopped to question the nature of our relationship.

A pang of frustration tinged with confusion engulfs me. How could I have been so blind? How could I have kissed Raj and felt those electric sparks without ever considering the possibility that I might be attracted to men?

My heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vice, squeezing out all the certainty I once had about my identity. Like a lost traveler stumbling upon an uncharted territory, I find myself navigating through the labyrinth of my own desires and emotions.

Tears fill my eyes as I grapple with this newfound truth. Every interaction, every touch, every stolen glance suddenly takes on a deeper, more profound meaning. It's like a veil has been lifted, and I can finally see myself for who I truly am.

I feel a heaviness settle within me, an unbearable burden of untold stories and hidden desires. It's as if I've been living in a fog, denying a part of myself that now demands to be acknowledged.

I am gay. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I can't escape the feeling of shame that washes over me.

The word "gay" hangs in the air, unspoken and heavy with implications. It's a word I've never dared to utter aloud, even though Raj and I have kissed hundreds of times. Whenever we get chance, we jump on each other.

But I've never imagined that I'd be faced with this realization in such a sudden and unexpected way. It's a lot to process, and my thoughts are a jumbled mess as I try to come to terms with it. The fear of my dad's judgment and the uncertainty of what this means for my future weigh heavily on me.

Will this revelation shatter the fragile bridge I've been building with my dad? The love and acceptance I've longed for, the sense of finally having a father figure—it all feels precarious, hanging by a thread.

Our relationship has always been distant, strained, but I can't help but wonder if this revelation will push us further apart. Will he really turn his back on me?

The fear creeps in, suffocating me in its grip. Every scenario, every possible outcome plays out in my mind like a horror movie. The thought of my dad's disappointment crushes me, a heavy weight settling on my chest. Will he reject me? Will he turn his back on me, unable to accept his own son for who he truly is?

I can't bear the thought of losing the fragile connection we have, the flickering ember of hope that maybe one day, we could bridge the gap between us. But now, with the realization of my own truth, that hope threatens to fade into oblivion. I fear becoming nothing more than a stranger in his eyes, a shadow that he can no longer recognize or understand.

And what about my friends, the ones I've grown close to in this new school? The thought of their judgment gnaws at me, like a relentless inner storm.

I have actually got friends in my life, Mayank, Arya, Piya, Asim... The people I've come to depend on, the ones who have unknowingly become my lifeline. Will they turn away from me too? Will they see me differently, treat me as an outcast? The idea of their judgment, their rejection, it terrifies me to my core. Will they abandon our friendship, unable to comprehend who I truly am?

I feel the tendrils of anxiety clawing at me, pulling me deeper into the chasm of fear. The thought of losing everything I've finally found, the happiness I've desperately clung onto, it's a tormenting nightmare that plays on repeat in my mind. It taunts me, reminding me of the isolation I endured in my old school, where every glance was a dagger and every word a wound. 

Will I be thrust back into that darkness? Forced to relive the torment and shame that I fought so hard to escape? The mere thought sends chills down my spine, making my heart race and my breath quicken. I can't go back there, I won't survive another round of rejection and loneliness. 

I can't help but question if I'll lose everything I've worked so hard to build in this new life. The happiness, the friendships, the sense of belonging – will it all be snatched away because of who I am? The mere idea of returning to the isolation I felt in my old school sends shivers down my spine. Those disgusting gazes, the torment I endured, could it all resurface?

The fear becomes overwhelming, consuming me like a tidal wave crashing against a fragile sandcastle. I suffocate under its weight, unable to find solace in the safe confines of my room. Tears blur my vision as I confront the uncertain terrain before me. The realization of my own truth, though liberating, is also a double-edged sword, slicing through the fabric of my existence.

As I sit alone in my room, anxiety gripping my every thought, a different path begins to materialize in my mind with its deceptive allure. The idea of burying this side of myself, of hiding my truth deep within, starts to tempt me. Maybe, just maybe, I can avoid the pain, the rejection, and the judgment that terrifies me so.

Is this truly the path I want to take? To deny who I am, to live in the shadow of a facade, forever pretending to be someone I'm not? It's a heartbreaking realization, for it would mean sacrificing my happiness, my authenticity, and ultimately, myself.

I remember the suffocating isolation, the constant fear and the overwhelming despair that consumed my every waking moment in my old school. The mere thought of living through that nightmare again sends a chill down my spine. But deep within the recesses of my soul, I know that burying my truth won't make it disappear, nor will it bring me the peace that I so desperately seek.

Anxiety grips my every thought, tightening its grasp as the fear of reliving the past consumes me. The scars, both physical and emotional, are etched deeply into my soul, constant reminders of the pain I endured. The mere thought of exposing myself, of giving anyone any justification to hurt me, sends tremors of panic through every nerve in my body.

The nights of sleepless anguish and the days filled with relentless anxiety replay in my mind like a horrifying film. The bullies' mocking sneers, their cruel words that cut through me like a thousand knives, their fists pounding against my trembling body — these memories vividly resurface, reminding me of the terrifying reality I once lived.

I yearn for acceptance, for understanding, but the fear of rejection paralyzes me. What if my classmates in this new school become aware of my truth? Will history repeat itself? Will I once again find myself trapped in a vicious cycle of harassment and violence? The prospect of facing the same torment, of living through those agonizing moments again, brings me to the brink of despair.

My heart aches as I contemplate the potential loss of the newfound friends and sense of belonging I have worked so hard to build. The idea of them turning their backs on me, of their judgment piercing my fragile spirit, feels unbearable... I can't, I can't afford to lose everything... even if that means losing the true side of myself.
...

In the quiet of the night, my room becomes a canvas painted with the ethereal glow of the moon's tender caress. The world beyond my window is swallowed by the obsidian abyss of night, and here I am, perched on the floor beside the expansive glass pane, wrestling with the tempestuous tempest within me.

As the door inches open, a subtle symphony of creaks and whispers, my mother enters, bearing a humble offering – a small plate of food, a silent gesture of her unwavering love. Words, it seems, are unnecessary tonight. She joins me, wordlessly, her presence an anchor in this sea of emotions.

Time stretches into eternity as we sit in this profound silence, a fragile connection forming in the unspoken words that hang heavily between us. And then, like a fragile wisp of a breeze, she whispers, "You know I love you, don't you?"

Those words are like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. They hit me with an intensity I can't describe. It's as if a dam bursts within me, and my eyes glisten with tears, my emotions no longer willing to be confined. They cascade down my cheeks, salty tributaries of pent-up feelings. With a heartrending nod, I acknowledge her question. The weight of my secret, the ache of my hidden truth, feels like a burden I can no longer bear.

With a tenderness that defies words, my mother envelops me in her embrace. Her arms, like a sanctuary, enfold me, offering warmth and acceptance in the midst of my tumultuous storm.

Within the comforting cocoon of her embrace, my mother's hands move in soothing circles along my back, a gentle rhythm that matches the ebb and flow of my turbulent emotions. Her question, unexpected and raw, cuts through the silence like a blade, leaving me momentarily stunned.

"You really like him, don't you?" Her voice is soft, laden with both curiosity and a mother's intuition. It's a question I've struggled to answer even in the depths of my own thoughts.

I hesitate for a heartbeat, unsure if my voice can bear the weight of my admission. Finally, with a tremor in my voice, I nod against her shoulder, my tears soaking into the fabric of her embrace.

And then, I summon the courage to ask the question that has gnawed at my soul, "You don't hate me?" My voice quivers, the fear of rejection lurking at the edges of my words.

Her arms tighten around me, as though she fears I might vanish if she loosens her grip. She leans her head against mine, her breath warm against my ear, and her response is a whispered declaration, fervent and unwavering.

"Dev, always remember, I can never hate you, never ever." Her words are a lifeline, a promise of unconditional love. "You're the reason that I'm here, you're the reason I wake up every morning and find the courage to welcome the another day. You're the center of my universe, Dev. Don't ever think that anyone can hate you, you are the kindest person I've ever known, Dev, and I'm proud of you."

In that moment, as her love envelops me like a protective cocoon, I begin to understand the true depth of her selfless love – a love that transcends all boundaries and accepts me for who I am, flaws and all.

Tears flow freely down my cheeks, mingling with the unspoken fears and joys that have burdened my heart for so long. With each sob, I feel the weight of my secret lifting, replaced by a newfound sense of liberation. And then, as if guided by some unseen force, I find the strength to voice those three words I've hidden even from myself.

"I am gay," I whisper, the confession trembling on my lips. It's a revelation that has haunted my thoughts, filled with uncertainty and fear.

In response, my mother's embrace tightens, her arms a sanctuary in this vulnerable moment. She doesn't hesitate for a single heartbeat, her voice unwavering as she echoes her three words I've longed to hear.

"I love you," she says, those three simple words carrying the weight of a lifetime of affection and acceptance. In her response, I find solace, reassurance, and the knowledge that love, in its purest form, knows no boundaries or conditions.

As we slowly part from our embrace, the moonlight streaming through the window bathes us in its ethereal glow. I muster the courage to meet my mother's gaze, and in her eyes, I find the same unwavering love and care that had been there just moments ago, before I uttered the words that had weighed so heavily on my heart.

Her hand, still holding the plate of food, moves with grace and familiarity. She scoops up a spoonful of rice, dipping it into the rich, comforting rajma – our favorite meal. With a small, warm smile, she extends the laden spoon toward me.

A watery smile breaks across my face, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and love. I open my mouth, allowing her to feed me.

With the taste of our shared meal lingering on my tongue, I gather the courage to speak once more. "Please don't tell Dad," I implore, my voice tinged with apprehension.

My mother nods in understanding, her eyes reflecting a deep reservoir of empathy and support. "It's your truth, your story," she reassures me, her voice a soothing balm. "No one has any right to tell it but you."

A sense of relief washes over me, but it's quickly followed by a new wave of uncertainty. I take a deep breath and confess my growing fear, my voice heavy with concern. "I just got my Dad," I admit, "the distance we had created has started narrowing, and now... I fear we'll get back where we were... strangers."

My mother's gaze remains fixed on me, filled with understanding. She reaches out and places a reassuring hand on mine, a silent promise that no matter what unfolds, I won't be alone on this journey.