The room they lived in was small. It had space for one bed, a stove near the wall, and a narrow path between the door and the window. Everything they owned fit inside that room. When all three of them were home, there was no place to stand without being close to someone else.
They lived near the police post in Nepalgunj. His father worked there, and the sound of boots and whistles was common in the mornings and evenings. Sometimes other policemen passed by their door, talking loudly, laughing, or arguing about duty and transfers. The child grew used to these sounds early. To him, they were normal.
His father wore a police uniform. It was always kept clean and folded properly when he was not wearing it. The belt was heavy, and the shoes were polished. The child liked watching his father get ready for work. The uniform made his father look important, like someone who had control over things.
His mother stayed at home most of the time. She cooked, cleaned, and took care of him. She spoke gently and rarely showed anger. Even when she was tired, she tried to keep her voice calm. She smiled often during those early months, especially when his father was around.
At first, their family felt stable. They ate together, sitting on the floor. His mother served food carefully, making sure nothing spilled. His father talked about work. The child listened without understanding much, but he liked hearing his father's voice. It made the room feel full.
He was too young to notice problems then.
In the mornings, his father left early. The sound of his boots woke the child sometimes. Other days, he only realized his father was gone when he saw his mother sitting alone, drinking tea quietly. She would wake him, help him get dressed, and prepare him for school.
The school van came every day. It was not a real bus, but a rickshaw-like vehicle pulled by men. It moved slowly, making noise as it went. Children sat close to each other inside, holding their bags and lunch boxes.
That was where he met Sumikxya.
She sat next to him from the first day. She was one year older, but even then she seemed more confident. She talked easily and laughed without thinking too much. When he stayed quiet, she spoke for both of them. When he didn't understand something, she explained it in her own way.
At school, they stayed together. They played during breaks and sat near each other in class. If someone older tried to bother him, she stood in front of him. She was not afraid of speaking up, even to children bigger than her.
He didn't think of her as special at that time. She was just always there.
Their mothers became friends too. They talked often and joked about the children growing up together. Sometimes they said that he and Sumikxya would marry one day. The words didn't mean much to him, but he remembered their laughter.
Slowly, things at home began to change.
It started with small things. His father began staying awake late at night. The light remained on even when everyone else should have been sleeping. His father talked on the phone quietly, turning his face away from the room.
At first, the child thought it was work related. But his mother noticed the difference. She asked fewer questions. She spoke less in the evenings. Sometimes she stopped smiling altogether.
The child did not understand what was happening, but he felt the change. The room felt quieter. His parents talked less to each other. His father's phone became more important than before.
He began copying what he saw. He spoke rudely to his mother at times, without knowing why. He ignored her instructions and raised his voice. He did not understand that he was learning behavior, not choosing it.
His mother never shouted back. She stayed silent more often, as if silence was easier than arguing.
Outside, life continued normally. The police post stayed busy. His father's job remained the same. From the outside, nothing seemed wrong.
But inside that small room, something was already breaking.
No one said it out loud.
No one explained it to the child.
And because of that, he carried the confusion with him, believing this was how families worked.