The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a rich orange glow across the sprawling city of Mumbai. A cool evening breeze stirred the warm air, bringing a subtle relief from the scorching heat of the day.
The park near Leo's apartment came to life as the sun's rays softened. Children, still energized from school, ran around, their laughter echoing in the open space.
The sound of cricket bats striking the ball mingled with the joyful screams of children playing tag. Elderly couples strolled leisurely along the winding path, their soft conversations filling the atmosphere with a sense of tranquility.
The road that ran parallel to the park, usually clogged with cars and noisy honking, appeared unusually quiet. Only a few vehicles passed by, their headlights glistening under the fading sky. It was as if the city had temporarily paused, taking a collective breath before the night set in.
Leo, a slender boy with silver hair that caught the last rays of sunlight, sat alone on a worn-out bench near the children. His striking blue eyes reflected an ocean of sadness, the kind that went unnoticed by most but was evident to those who took the time to truly observe. His face, usually calm and composed, bore bruises and cuts, remnants of a recent altercation.
Yet, despite his pain, there was a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips. He watched the children play, their carefree movements stirring memories in him—memories of a time when life was simpler, happier.
For a long while, he remained there, lost in thought, a silent observer of the world around him. His heart ached as he watched the children. It was as though he was seeing a version of himself from years ago—before life had changed, before everything had been ripped apart in a tragic moment.
After some time, Leo let out a quiet sigh, pushing the thoughts away as he picked up his bag. It was old and battered, much like him, its straps barely holding together. He stood up, dusting off his pants, and began walking towards the street that led to his workplace. The park, with its fleeting moments of joy, had provided some brief comfort, but now he had to face reality again.
Leo's workplace was a small convenience store nestled on a quiet street. It wasn't much, but it was a place where he could escape the noise of his thoughts for a while.
As he entered the store, the bell above the door chimed softly, its sound a familiar comfort. The smell of stale air, mixed with the faint scent of packaged snacks and cleaning products, greeted him as he walked in.
Mr. Pal, the store owner, looked up from behind the counter. His thick brows furrowed in surprise as he took in Leo's condition.
He had known the boy for a while now, and he'd seen Leo go through more than most people should ever have to endure. But the bruises on his face were something new.
"Leo?" Mr. Pal's voice held a mixture of shock and concern.
"Good evening, Mr. Pal," Leo replied with a faint, hesitant smile, avoiding the older man's eyes. His voice was quiet, almost too soft, as though speaking too loudly might make the pain worse.
"What's good about this evening?" Mr. Pal growled, his gaze hardening as he took in Leo's injuries. "Who did this to you? It's those little brats again, isn't it? Just tell me their names, and I'll handle them. They won't mess with you again."
Leo gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "It's nothing, Mr. Pal," he murmured, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him.
Before Mr. Pal could respond, a sharp voice came from the back room. "Father, I told you about watching those weird fantasy shows! You're letting them rot your brain."
Disha, Mr. Pal's daughter, appeared from behind the counter, her hands full of boxes. She froze when she saw Leo, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the hell? Who did this to you?" she asked, her voice rising in anger. "Where are my dragons? I'll burn them alive!"
Mr. Pal shot a knowing glance at his daughter. "Well, well, look who's lecturing me now about fantasy dramas," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Disha's face flushed, and she put her hands on her hips. "You're the one watching those filthy shows. I just… Well, I just don't think they're suitable!"
Mr. Pal raised an eyebrow. "How do you know they're filthy?" he asked, clearly amused.
Disha opened her mouth but hesitated. "Well… just because," she muttered, unable to come up with a valid reason.
Their bickering carried on, and Leo stood quietly at the counter, not quite sure what to do. The tension between the father and daughter was palpable, yet Leo found it oddly comforting. Their familiar back-and-forth reminded him of better days, of simpler times when his own family used to argue over the most trivial things.
But that was before everything had changed.
As the argument escalated, Leo finally cleared his throat, his voice barely audible. "Um… excuse me?"
Both Mr. Pal and Disha turned to him, their voices perfectly synchronized. "WHAT?"
Leo gestured awkwardly toward the customers who were now looking at them with wide, curious eyes. "You're scaring the customers…" he said softly.
For a moment, there was silence as both father and daughter processed his words. Then, they exchanged a brief glance, and suddenly, their expressions softened. They mumbled apologies to the few remaining customers, trying to salvage some dignity.
Leo couldn't help but think, Like father, like daughter. They're so alike, it's almost funny.
After the customers left, Disha returned her attention to Leo. "Now, are you going to tell us what really happened, or should we drag it out of you?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
Leo shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet her gaze. "It's nothing," he murmured. "I just… fell down the stairs," he added, trying to pass it off as a minor accident.
Disha and Mr. Pal exchanged a look that spoke volumes. They knew better than to believe his story, but they didn't press him further. Instead, Disha grabbed a first-aid kit and motioned for Leo to sit down. "You're really terrible at lying," she remarked as she carefully cleaned his bruises.
Leo flinched as the antiseptic stung his wounds, but he didn't protest. He didn't want to worry them more than he already had. Disha worked in silence for a moment, her movements gentle yet firm.
Once she finished, Disha stood up and looked at him with a mixture of concern and frustration. "There. Now, stop pretending like you're fine when you're not."
Leo stood, ready to leave, but Mr. Pal spoke again, his voice soft yet insistent. "You're not working tonight, Leo. Go home. Rest. You look like you need it."
Leo hesitated for a moment, glancing at the counter where the night shift was waiting for him. "But I can work, Mr. Pal. I'm fine," he protested, offering a weak smile.
Mr. Pal shook his head. "No, Leo. You're not fine. Go home and take care of yourself. I'll handle things here."
Leo didn't argue further. He knew Mr. Pal meant well, but the truth was, he couldn't escape his reality, no matter how hard he tried. With a resigned sigh, Leo grabbed his bag and headed out the door.
As he walked back to his apartment, the weight of the day pressed down on him. His mind wandered to thoughts of Surya, the younger brother he had grown so close to over the years.
Leo had promised Surya a sleepover tonight, and he hated breaking promises. But he couldn't go to Surya's house in his current state. He couldn't let them see him like this, not after everything that had happened.
When he reached his apartment, he sighed heavily and opened the door. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he quickly answered it, only to be met with a shrill, desperate voice.
"WHERE IS HE? WHY ISN'T LEO HYUNG HERE YET? HE PROMISED A SLEEPOVER!" Surya's voice was frantic, the kind of shout that only a child could muster when they felt left out.
Leo winced at the volume. "Surya…" he began, but the child's tantrum continued, loud and piercing even through the phone.
Once the noise finally subsided, Leo spoke again, his voice quieter, filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Surya. I won't be able to come tonight. Please… tell everyone I'm sorry."
He hung up the phone, the guilt clawing at him. I can't let them see me like this. I don't want to be a burden on them.
Leo wiped a tear from his cheek as he walked toward his apartment. The pain of the past years seemed to follow him, its weight ever-present. He slipped off his shoes, which were more worn out than they had ever been, and set them on the shoe rack.
I need new shoes, he thought absently, but even that small wish felt insignificant compared to everything he had lost.
He dropped his bag on the couch and headed to his room. The walls, once filled with the warmth of family life, now felt cold and empty. He closed the door behind him and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sadness overtook him as he reached for the small photo frame on the table beside his bed. It was a picture of his family: his mother, father, and two sisters. He held it close to his chest and whispered, "Mother, Father, Sneha Didi*, Hina... I'm home."
But home felt so far away.
The next morning, sunlight poured through the cracks in the curtains of Leo's apartment. The alarm clock on the nightstand buzzed faintly, but it went unheard. Leo lay still on his bed, clutching the photograph tightly against his chest, his face pale and stained with dried tears.
The persistent ringing of his phone jolted him awake. Groggily, he reached for it, fumbling with the buttons before managing to answer.
"Hello?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the previous night's crying.
"Leo, are you alright?" the voice on the other end asked with palpable concern. It was Mr. Lee Hyun-jin, Leo's foster father.