"Strength isn't about lifting weight. Sometimes, it's just about holding your pain so no one else has to."
The Morning That Looked Normal
It began like any other school day.
Vikran made sure his sister's hair was tied, shoes cleaned, lunch packed.
He handed his mother the coins he'd quietly earned by helping with deliveries at dawn.
She hesitated.
"This was yours, kanna. Keep it—"
He smiled.
"It was always ours."
And just like every other morning, he left for school with his bag slung over his back and a soft wave goodbye.
No one knew the dull ache in his side had gotten worse that week.
No one noticed he hadn't eaten breakfast again.
Because he made sure they didn't.
The Class Where He Faded
In class, Vikran tried to focus. Tried to copy notes from the board.
But the black letters swam. The page felt heavy.
He blinked. Blinked again.
Then, a sharp pain behind his eyes.
A bead of sweat slipped down his neck despite the cold room.
Ameira, sitting nearby, leaned in.
"Are you okay?"
He turned with a faint smile.
"Just sleepy."
She frowned but didn't push.
Rudren, two benches back, watched silently — like he always did when Vikran said too little.
The Fall
It happened in the corridor.
A noise. A flash. A gasp.
Vikran stumbled mid-step, clutching his chest. The world tilted. The hallway spun. Then—
Collapse.
Papers flew. Voices rose. Someone screamed.
Ameira was the first to reach him.
"Vikran?! Can you hear me?!"
He groaned but forced his eyes open.
"I'm fine…"
Rudren pushed past the crowd, knelt, and gripped his shoulder.
"Shut up. You're not fine."
The Infirmary Truth
The nurse said it was dehydration. Maybe stress. Maybe more.
He needed rest. He needed food. He needed time.
But Vikran sat up the moment she turned away.
"I'm okay now. Let me go."
Rudren stared at him, jaw tight.
"What is wrong with you?"
Vikran laughed softly. Too softly.
"If I fall… who takes care of them?"
Neither of the others had an answer.
Under the Tree
That evening, Vikran didn't go straight home.
He walked to the back field behind the school, to the lone banyan tree.
There, he sat. Crossed his arms. Leaned his head back.
The wind brushed past his face, but he didn't close his eyes.
He began to whisper — not to anyone, just… into the quiet.
"I'm tired."
"But I don't want them to worry."
"If amma sees me weak… she might blame herself."
"If sis sees me fall… she'll stop smiling."
He pulled his knees to his chest.
"So… I won't fall."
"No one should worry about me till they obey about me"
The Listener
From behind, a quiet bleat.
It was Binni — the baby goat, who had somehow followed him from home.
She nudged his side gently.
Vikran chuckled.
"You little stalker…"
He ran his hand through her soft fur.
"At least I can talk to you without lying."
He sat in silence again.
But far above — far, far above — in the stillness of the fading day, something ancient stirred.
A soft golden ripple passed over the clouds.
The Lion's soul, deep beneath the earth, felt him.
Not as a warrior.
Not as a hero.
But as a boy who never asked for help… yet was ready to carry the world.
Final Line:
Sometimes, the strongest are the quietest.
Because they know that if they cry… the ones they love might break with them.
And so, Vikran bore it alone.
To be continued..