There is a house that looks normal, and the owner lives there with his wife and their two daughters. the girls are named kirthi and kruti. they are about the same age because they are twins.
Kirthi could go wherever she wanted, but Kruti wasn't even allowed to step out onto the balcony. Her mom always told her,
"Don't go outside. Don't let anyone see you. You are a very different child in this world."
Kruti sometimes wanted to go out and play, just once. But her mom never paid attention to her small wishes.
Kruti spent her entire childhood locked away inside that house. Day after day, she watched the world from behind windows, never allowed to step outside like other children. The only time she was ever taken out was during exams—and even then, her face and hands were completely covered, as if she wasn't meant to be seen by the world.
She often wondered what it felt like to feel the sun on her skin, to run freely, to laugh out loud in the open air. But her small wishes were always ignored, buried under her mother's constant warnings:
"You are different… The world won't understand you. Stay hidden. Stay safe."
And so, the walls of that house became her entire world—quiet, lonely, and filled with questions no one would answer.
At that time, her sister Kirthi would always say,
"Don't worry. I'll get us out of this house. After that, no one will be able to stop you. You can do whatever you want. But for now, just stay here — because we're still children."
Kruthi sometimes felt a little jealous of her sister — of her confidence, her strength, her voice. But eventually, she convinced herself to be patient. She decided to wait for the day when Kirthi would get a job — the day everything would finally begin to change.
But her patience had reached its limit.
One day, she tried to jump over the balcony and leave the house. She didn't want to wait anymore. She just wanted to be free.
She managed to make the jump. Her feet hit the ground hard, but she ran — heart pounding, eyes locked on the main gate.
Freedom was just a step away.
But then… she froze.Her legs wouldn't move. Her whole body began to tremble.
A strange, suffocating heat filled the air around her. And before she could take another breath — everything went black.
She lost consciousness.
When Kruthi finally woke up, she was back in her room.
The same walls. The same ceiling. The same silence.It was as if nothing had happened.
But everything had changed.
When her mother entered the room, her face was tight with anger.
She slammed the door shut behind her and shouted:
"How many times do I have to tell you? You never listen to a single word I say! You think I'm locking you inside on purpose? That I'll just let you do whatever you want?"
Her voice was trembling — not just with rage, but something deeper. Fear. Exhaustion. Helplessness.
Kruthi sat curled on the edge of the bed, her small frame shaking. Her eyes filled with tears.
Through sobs, she whispered:
"I'm sorry, Mom… I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to see the world outside. Why won't you let me go out? I just want to play with my sister… go to school, get good marks — just like other kids. But you never go outside either. You always stay here… and now I have to stay too. That's all I wanted to say."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The kind that comes right after truth is spoken — raw, simple, and impossible to ignore.
Her mother's anger slowly faded, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.
She knelt down in front of Kruthi and looked into her eyes.
Her voice was quiet, trembling.
"I don't know how to explain this to you,"
she began.
"But you're not an ordinary child."
She reached out, gently brushing Kruthi's hair behind her ear.
"Look at your body — it's not like others. When you get angry, your eyes change from brown to blue. And when you touch someone…"
her voice cracked,
"…they die."
Kruthi's eyes widened in shock. Her chest tightened.
Her mother continued, tears welling up in her eyes.
"That's why I'm stopping you from going outside. It's not because I don't love you — it's because I do. I don't want anyone to get hurt… not by accident… not by you. Please, my dear… stay here. Just a little longer."
Kruthi's tears stopped for a moment. She stared at her mother, eyes wide — confused, scared, and trembling.
"What are you saying…?"
she whispered.
"Why didn't you ever tell me before?"
Her voice shook with disbelief.
"I thought I was just like everyone else. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to live... to feel normal."
Her voice cracked, and she took a step back, her eyes dropping to her hands — as if she were seeing them for the first time.
"Is that why no one ever came close to me? Is that why I was always… alone?"
Her mother nodded slowly, tears gathering in her eyes, her face full of pain.
"I was trying to protect you… and protect others too."
She paused, taking a deep breath.
"You have something inside you, Kruthi — something powerful and dangerous. I don't know how it got there, or why it chose you, but until we understand it… we can't take risks."
Silence filled the room again, heavy and hard. But this time, it wasn't just filled with sadness — it was filled with questions.
The kind that don't go away.
Kruthi shook her head, frustration and fear swirling in her eyes.
"No, Mom. I can't just stay locked away forever. I want to understand what I am… but I also want to live — to feel the sun on my face, to play with my sister, to be free."
Her voice grew stronger with each word, rising like a wave.
"I don't want to hurt anyone… but how will I ever learn if I don't try? I need to learn control — not just be trapped because we're scared."
Her mother looked at her, torn — love in one eye, worry in the other. For a long moment, she didn't speak.
Then she sighed softly and said:
"Maybe you're right… But we have to be careful. We'll need help — someone who understands these things. Someone who's seen this before."
Kruthi wiped the last of her tears away. Her hands were still shaking, but her eyes were steady now — burning with quiet determination.
"Then let's find that help,"
she said.
" Together."