The school gate is louder than the morning.
Children run in every direction, their voices filling the gate.
Parents stand near the entrance, repeating the same advice again and again.
"Listen to your teacher."
"Don't fight."
"Eat your lunch."
The usual things.
Anya holds my hand tightly as we walk toward the gate.
Her eyes move everywhere at once, trying to understand everything.
"So many people," she says.
"That's school," I reply.
She looks up at the tall building.
"This is where smart people are made?"
"Sometimes."
She nods seriously, as if accepting an important truth.
Behind us, Yash walks quietly.
His steps are steady, his expression calm. If I didn't know him, I would think he had nothing on his mind.
But I know better.
We stop near the entrance.
"This is where we separate," I say.
Anya looks at me.
"Already?"
"You'll be fine."
She thinks about it for a moment.
Then she nods.
"Okay."
She takes two steps forward.
Then she suddenly turns back.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"If someone is mean…"
I wait.
"What should I do?"
I kneel slightly so we are at the same height.
"First, try to understand them."
She tilts her head.
"And if that doesn't work?"
I pause.
"Then just be yourself."
She thinks about that carefully.
Then she smiles.
"Okay."
And just like that, she runs inside.
No hesitation.
No fear.
I stand there for a moment, watching the small figure disappear into the building.
Children are strange.
Some move forward without thinking.
Others think too much before taking a step.
I glance to my side.
Yash is still there.
"You're late for class," I say.
"I know."
But he doesn't move.
Instead, he looks at the school building.
"Yesterday's fight will spread today," he says.
"That's how schools work."
He nods slightly.
"They will ask questions."
"And what will you say?"
He considers that.
"The truth."
"And what is the truth?"
"That I didn't start it."
I wait.
"And that I didn't stop it."
A few students walk past us, glancing at him.
Some whisper.
News moves quickly inside schools.
Yash notices.
But he doesn't react.
"You're thinking too much," I say.
"Maybe."
"Just attend your classes."
He finally looks at me.
"You don't seem worried."
"I am."
"But?"
"But worry doesn't help you."
He thinks about that.
Then nods once.
"Go," I say.
He turns and walks toward the building.
Unlike Anya, he doesn't run.
Each step is measured.
Controlled.
As if every movement already has meaning.
For a moment, I watch the same doors close behind both of them.
Two children.
Two completely different worlds.
One walks forward with curiosity.
The other walks forward with questions.
I exhale slowly and turn toward the parking area.
The day has only just started.
And yet it already feels heavier than the morning.
***
[Vanya]
By the time Ruhan returned home, the house was quiet again.
Anya and Yash were already inside the school building, and the morning rush had faded into the background.
He opened the door softly.
I was waiting near the table, checking my bag one last time before leaving.
Lex sat beside my chair, his tail wrapped around his paws like he had been guarding the room while I waited. The moment he saw Ruhan, he only glanced once before returning his attention to me.
Albus, on the other hand, walked straight to Ruhan and stood beside him.
It was always like that.
Lex followed me.
Albus followed him.
"You came back faster than I expected," I said.
"The traffic was light."
That was typical Ruhan. Simple answer. No extra explanation.
He picked up the car keys again.
"Ready?"
"Always."
Lex watched me walk to the door like he was considering whether he should follow.
"You're staying," I told him gently.
His ears twitched, but he stayed where he was.
Albus walked to the door with Ruhan before turning back toward his bowl.
The drive to the bank was quiet at first.
Morning sunlight stretched across the road, warming the windshields of the cars around us. Shops were beginning to open. A few motorcycles moved past us quickly, their engines cutting through the calm.
Ruhan drove the same way he always did—steady, patient, never in a hurry.
I glanced at him.
"You're thinking about Yash."
It wasn't a question.
He kept his eyes on the road.
"He's thinking too far ahead," Ruhan said.
"That sounds like you."
"That's the problem."
I smiled faintly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then something else crossed my mind.
"Don't forget," I said. "After dropping me, you still have to pick up your father."
"I remember."
"He'll complain if you're late."
"He complains even when I'm early."
"That's true."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"You understood him this morning," he said after a while.
"I understand the feeling," I replied.
Ruhan looked at me briefly.
"But you don't like it."
"No."
"Why?"
I watched the road ahead.
"Because I know where that kind of thinking leads."
He didn't ask more.
He rarely pushed when the answer mattered too much.
We stopped at a traffic signal.
Across the street, I noticed something new.
A signboard was being installed above a small building.
I leaned forward slightly to read it.
"A café?"
Ruhan glanced at it.
"Near Krishna's store," he said. "It opened recently."
"I thought you mentioned something about that today."
"I did."
I looked at it again.
"We should try it sometime."
"Sounds like a date."
"Don't make it sound like a rare event."
"With our schedule, it is."
I shook my head slightly, but I was smiling.
The bank building appeared at the end of the street.
"Here," I said.
Ruhan slowed the car and stopped near the entrance.
I unfastened my seatbelt.
"Try not to think about everything at once," I told him.
"That's difficult."
"I know."
I opened the door.
Then paused.
"Ruhan."
He looked at me.
"Drive carefully."
A small smile crossed his face.
"When have I not?"
I stepped out and closed the door.
I took a few steps toward the bank entrance.
Then I stopped.
Something made me turn back.
Maybe it was instinct.
Maybe it was nothing.
But when I looked back, I saw the car still there.
Ruhan was adjusting something near the dashboard.
Then the car slowly moved forward.
The road in front of the bank wasn't very busy.
Just a few passing vehicles.
A motorcycle passed first.
Then a delivery truck appeared from the corner of the street.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
The truck moved faster than the others, but not dangerously so.
Ruhan's car pulled onto the road.
For a brief moment, both vehicles were moving toward the same space.
Something about it felt wrong.
And then—
everything happened too quickly.
The truck driver suddenly swerved.
A sharp sound of brakes cut through the air.
Ruhan's car tried to move away.
But there wasn't enough room.
The front of the truck struck the side of the car.
The sound was violent.
Metal folding.
Glass breaking.
The car spun slightly before stopping near the side of the road.
For a second, the world felt completely silent.
No sound.
No movement.
Just the image of the damaged car in the middle of the street.
Then everything rushed back at once.
People shouting.
Someone running toward the car.
A horn blaring somewhere behind us.
My feet moved before I realized it.
I ran toward the road.
"Ruhan!"
The name left my mouth before I could stop it.
The driver's side of the car was crushed inward.
The windshield had cracked across the middle.
Ruhan was still inside.
His head had fallen slightly forward.
"Ruhan!" I shouted again.
Someone nearby tried to stop me.
"Madam, wait—"
I pushed past them.
My hands trembled as I reached the car door.
"Ruhan, can you hear me?"
He didn't answer.
But he was breathing.
I could see it.
Slow.
But there.
The sound of a distant siren began to rise somewhere in the city.
People around us were talking quickly, calling emergency services, trying to move vehicles out of the way.
But all of it felt far away.
Because in that moment—
the only thing I could see
was him.
Just a few minutes earlier, we were sitting in the same car, talking about our children.
About ordinary things.
About another normal day.
And now—
everything had changed.