Chapter 4: Cracks in the Mirror
Suraj had never felt this alive—and never this lost.
Since Yumiko stepped into his life, everything else had faded into a dull, meaningless blur. School, assignments, grades—all once a fragile grip on his sanity—had vanished under the intoxicating gravity of her presence. Every break, every skipped class, every hour meant for studying was now spent behind the school, where the trees swallowed them into a secret world only they understood.
And for a while, it was beautiful. It was escape. It was a lie he wanted to keep living.
But lies catch up.
It started with silence. Teachers' glances grew sharper. His name appeared more frequently in faculty murmurs. The tension built like static in the air until the hammer finally dropped. A call home. A meeting scheduled. His sanctuary—the forest, the girl, the love—was suddenly crashing into the cold structure of reality.
That evening, Suraj walked into his house and was met with silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that sits in your chest and tells you something is very, very wrong.
His mother sat at the dining table, her hands folded tightly, knuckles white. His father stood by the window, not looking at him.
"Sit down," his father said.
Suraj obeyed. The quiet dragged.
His mother's voice trembled when she finally spoke. "Your teacher called."
He stared at the table.
"Three subjects failed," she continued. "Missed assignments. Skipped classes. You disappear after school, come home late, and you've lied every time we ask where you've been."
His father turned. "Are you taking drugs?"
"What?" Suraj snapped his head up.
"Or is it something worse?" his mother asked, her voice breaking. "You're our son, and we feel like we don't know you anymore."
"I'm not on drugs! I'm not—doing anything bad, I just—"
"Then tell us," his father barked. "Tell us what's more important than your future!"
The pressure shattered something in him. The shame, the guilt, the fear—they all mixed into something raw, something burning.
"I'm in love," he said.
His mother blinked.
"I'm in love," he repeated, louder this time, more honest. "With a girl. Her name is Yumiko."
The silence was different now. He'd just set a fire on the dinner table and watched it burn.
His father's voice was like gravel. "So this is what's destroying you."
"I'm not destroyed!" Suraj said. "I'm just… not the same anymore."
"We're not saying you can't love," his mother said, her voice softer, cracked. "We're saying don't lose yourself doing it. Don't burn your future down."
"We want to meet her," his father said. "We want to see what kind of girl pulls you this far off track."
Suraj's heart twisted. Yumiko wasn't like anyone else. She didn't belong to this world in the same way he did. They wouldn't understand. Worse, they might fear her.
Still… part of him knew they were right. His grades were plummeting. He was losing his footing. And even Yumiko had noticed it.
That evening, as twilight kissed the forest floor, Suraj met Yumiko in their usual place.
She looked up at him and instantly frowned. "You're not okay."
"I messed up," he whispered. "My parents know. About you. About the skipping. Everything."
Her face was still, unreadable.
"They want to meet you."
"Do they know what I am?" she asked.
He shook his head.
Her expression faltered. "Do they think I'm taking you away?"
"They're worried. That I'm losing everything for you."
Her hands tightened into fists. Her voice was small, wounded. "Are you?"
"No!" he said instantly. "I mean—yes—things are falling apart, but I don't regret you. I never could."
She stepped back, breathing unevenly. "Then why does it feel like you're slipping away?"
He didn't have an answer. So he stayed quiet. That silence cut deeper than any words.
"I never meant to ruin you," she whispered, and her voice cracked, like porcelain breaking. "I just… I saw you. Alone. Broken. I thought—if I stayed close enough, maybe we could fix each other."
Suraj's throat tightened.
"I watched them hurt you," she continued. "I wanted to erase that pain. I wanted to be your shelter."
"You were," he said, voice shaking.
"But now I'm the reason you're drowning."
Her eyes filled, tears sliding down in silence. "I hate this planet. I hate its rules. Its fear. I hate that love here is a weakness. That I am a weakness."
"You're not," he said, stepping forward. "Yumiko, you're the only reason I'm still standing."
"Then why are you afraid of me?" she choked.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said, his voice raw. "I'm afraid of not being enough for you."
The pain between them hung in the air like smoke.
"I can't lift buildings. I can't fight armies. I'm just… me. And I hate that I need saving. I hate that I'm still weak."
She stepped forward and placed her forehead against his. "No. That's not weakness. That's love. That's what it means to be human."
He nodded, tears falling freely now. "Then teach me to be strong. Not like you—but for you."
She wrapped her arms around him. "And I'll try to be softer. For you."
They stayed there, holding onto each other like the wind might pull them apart. Yumiko's breath was shaky against his neck. "I don't want to lose you. If they try to take you away from me… I don't know what I'll become."
"Then we'll make sure they never do," Suraj whispered. "But we can't burn everything down to hold onto each other."
"I would destroy the world for you," she said, her voice trembling with deadly honesty.
"And I would live in it for you," he replied.
In that moment, the forest didn't matter. The world didn't matter. Just the broken boy and the dangerous girl trying so hard to be more than what they were.
Later that night, Suraj sat at his desk and stared at his textbooks. They didn't scare him anymore. Because now he wasn't studying for grades. He was fighting to deserve the love he'd been given.
And for the first time, Yumiko walked him to the school gate, smiling like she had a world to protect.
They weren't healed. But they were healing.
And that meant everything.