The clock on the living room wall ticked louder than usual, every second stretching like an eternity. Smita paced the floor, her hands wringing together, worry etched into every line of her face.
"Raj, it's been hours," she said, her voice trembling. "Where could Nisha be? She never stays out this late without calling."
Raj looked up from the couch, trying to sound calm though his own heart raced. "Smita, she's probably just with Rohit. You know how he's always looking out for her."
But Smita wasn't convinced. She knew her daughter — her routines, her patterns, her careful predictability. When something broke that rhythm, it always meant something was wrong.
Just then, Raj's phone buzzed violently on the table. Smita froze mid-step.
He picked it up and answered quickly. "Rohit?"
His expression shifted from relief to concern in seconds. "What? Slow down, beta — what happened?"
Smita's voice trembled. "What is it, Raj? Is it her?"
Raj listened, his face growing pale. "Yes… yes, I understand. You're looking for her now?"
He nodded a few more times, his voice low but tense. "Okay. Call me the moment you find her."
When he hung up, Smita's patience snapped. "Raj! Tell me what's going on!"
"It was Rohit," Raj said quietly, his voice strained. "He… he got a message from Nisha earlier. She said she was falling apart. He's been trying to reach her, but she stopped replying."
Smita's knees went weak. "Oh my god. Raj, what if something happened to her?"
Raj quickly caught her by the shoulders. "Smita, listen to me. Rohit's tracking her phone. He'll find her. You know our Nishu — she's strong, she just… she just needs time."
Tears filled Smita's eyes. "She's strong, yes. But she's also fragile, Raj. The world keeps hurting her."
Raj pulled her into a steady hug, forcing himself to stay composed for both their sakes. "Our Nishu is brilliant. She'll get through this. And Rohit's with her — that boy won't rest until he finds her."
Meanwhile, miles away, Rohit's car tore down the dimly lit road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The GPS dot on his phone blinked steadily — the park.
His chest tightened as he remembered her last message: Rohit, I'm falling apart.
"Hold on, Nish," he muttered under his breath, speeding through another red light. "Just hold on."
At the park, the world had quieted. The streetlights buzzed softly, casting halos over the benches. The air smelled faintly of wet grass and dusk.
Nisha sat curled up on one of the benches, her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were empty, unfocused, staring at nothing and everything all at once. Her portfolio lay forgotten on the ground, pages fluttering against the pavement like fallen feathers.
Her mind replayed the day in cruel, vivid flashes — the smirks, the taunts, the laughter. Every insult echoed in her head.
Freak.
Not fit for the job.
Autistic girl.
Go play with blocks.
Each word had dug a deeper hole inside her, burying what little confidence she had left.
"Why do they hate me?" she whispered into the night, her voice barely a breath. "Why can't they just… understand?"
She thought about her parents — how her mother always said she was special, how her father always reminded her she was capable. And yet, here she was, feeling anything but.
"I'm just a burden," she whispered to the dark. "Maybe I was never meant to fit in."
A cold wind swept across the park, but she didn't move. She felt numb, hollow.
Then, through the blur of tears, she heard a voice.
"Nish!"
Her head snapped up. Rohit was running toward her, his face stricken, breath ragged. When he saw her — small, trembling, and tear-streaked — he froze for a moment. Then he rushed forward and pulled her into his arms.
"Oh, Nish…" His voice broke as he held her tighter. "I'm so sorry. I'm here now, okay? I'm here."
At that, the dam inside her burst. She sobbed into his chest, her body shaking violently. He didn't say anything else — just let her cry. His arms were steady, his touch grounding. For the first time that day, she didn't feel invisible.
They stayed that way for a long while, the night wrapping around them like a blanket.
Finally, when her sobs began to fade into hiccups, Rohit pulled back gently. "Nish, what happened? Please tell me."
Her lips trembled. "It was… the interview. At Denieal Designs."
"What about it?"
She looked away, her voice breaking. "Those girls — the other candidates — they… they mocked me. Called me names. Said I wasn't fit for the job because of my autism."
Rohit's expression hardened instantly. His hands clenched into fists. "What did you just say?"
"They laughed at me, Rohit. In front of everyone. They said I was weird, awkward, that I should stay home…" Her voice cracked again. "They called me an autistic freak."
Rohit's jaw tightened. "Those insensitive—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. "How could they do that to you?"
Her tears started again, softer this time. "I tried to ignore them, I really did… but their words just—" she swallowed hard, "—they don't leave, Rohit. They echo."
He gently tilted her chin up. "Nish, listen to me. You're not what they said. You're not their words. You're talented, brilliant, kind — and your autism doesn't make you less. It makes you you."
"I just feel so broken," she whispered. "Like I'll never be enough."
Rohit's voice turned fierce. "You are enough. You always have been. You just live in a world that doesn't understand people like you — but I do. And I'll remind you every day until you believe it."
She shook her head weakly. "I wish I could be normal, Rohit. Like everyone else."
His eyes softened. "Nish, 'normal' is overrated. The world doesn't need more copies — it needs originals. And you, Nish, are one of a kind."
A faint smile flickered through her tears. "You always know what to say."
"That's because I know who you are," he said gently. "And I love who you are — every bit of it. Autism or not, you're extraordinary."
Her lip quivered. "Then why does it feel like I'm broken?"
"Because the world keeps trying to make you fit into its narrow box," Rohit said softly. "But you were never meant to fit in — you were meant to stand out."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Nisha's voice came out so quiet, it almost disappeared in the wind. "Maybe I should just give up."
Rohit's grip tightened. "Don't you dare say that, Nish. Don't let their cruelty steal your light. You've come too far to let them win."
Tears rolled down her cheeks again.
He took a slow breath, steadying himself. "Come on. Let me take you home. You shouldn't be alone right now."
She hesitated. "I don't want to go home, Rohit."
"I know," he said gently. "But your parents are worried sick. Let's go. You need rest."
Her shoulders slumped. After a long silence, she nodded weakly.
The drive back was quiet. The city lights flickered across her face as she stared out the window, lost in thought. Rohit kept glancing at her, his heart breaking a little more each time he saw how fragile she looked.
When they reached home, the lights were still on. Smita rushed to the door before the car even stopped.
"Nishu beta!" she cried, running to her daughter. But when she saw the tears, her voice cracked. "What happened to my baby?"
Nisha couldn't speak — she just leaned into her mother's embrace. Smita's arms tightened around her, as if afraid to let go.
Raj came forward, his face pale. "Rohit, what happened?"
Rohit guided Nisha toward her room first. "Let her rest, Uncle. She's exhausted."
Once she was settled under the covers, he returned to the living room, his face grim.
Raj and Smita waited, dread written all over them.
Rohit took a deep breath. "The interview… it wasn't just bad. It was cruel. The other candidates bullied her, mocked her autism. They tore her apart."
Smita gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, my god. My baby girl…"
Rohit's voice wavered. "I found her in the park, alone. She said she felt like giving up."
Smita broke down then, tears streaming freely. "Why do they keep doing this to her, Rohit? Why can't the world just see her?"
Rohit took her hands, his voice firm despite the emotion in it. "Aunty, I promise — I'll be there for her. Always. I'll help her heal, no matter how long it takes."
Smita's eyes met his, shining with both pain and gratitude. "You're a blessing, beta. We can't lose her… she's my everything."
Rohit nodded solemnly. "You won't. I'll help her find her strength again. She's my best friend, Aunty — and I'm not letting her fight this alone."
Raj placed a steady hand on Rohit's shoulder, his voice deep and sincere. "Thank you, beta. We'll face this together — as family."
Rohit nodded, glancing toward Nisha's room where the faint sound of her breathing could be heard. "She's been through too much. But I'll remind her who she is — every single day if I have to."
And as the night deepened, one truth settled quietly between them — Nisha's light had dimmed, yes, but it hadn't gone out.
Not while Rohit was there to help her find it again.