Beta, a child’s heart doesn’t count years on a calendar, it counts cracks in the ceiling while parents shout. They told me “you’re big now, twelve,” so I became the silent cup of chai left to cool—holding everything, feeling nothing. The real pain isn’t the split, it’s becoming the glue and the letter-box between two forts, your own childhood forgotten. So tomorrow, I will sit on my bamboo stool and listen for the rooster’s crow, a sound that doesn’t ask me to choose.
#parenting#school
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