VIVAAN

The phone buzzed against the table, soft at first, then insistent.

Ma

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, watching my mother's name flicker like a small light in the dark room. The ringtone kept playing, cheerful, familiar and cruelly out of place.

I finally picked it up.

"Hello, Ma."

"Arey, beta! I was starting to think you've forgotten your poor mother!" Her voice burst through the speaker like sunlight into a closed room, too bright for how quiet my world was. "What are you doing? I called twice in the morning also!"

"Work, Ma." I said softly, my eyes still on the blank television screen."Had a long day."

"You and your work." she sighed. "Do you even eat on time? Tell me honestly, haan?"

"Yes, ma. I ate already."

"What did you eat?"

"Dal, roti."

"Hmm. Dal roti! So simple! You made it?"

I smiled faintly. "Of course."

"Don't lie" she scolded gently. "You always order that oily restaurant food. I can tell from your voice you haven't cooked in days. Put some jeera in the oil, beta, it'll smell like home. That flat of yours must feel like a hospital by now."

I looked around the apartment, it was spotless, silent and hollow. There was one coffee mug, one unwashed plate and one man sitting alone in too much space.

"I'll cook tomorrow." I said.

There was a rustle on the other end. "You know, Mrs. Mehra's daughter came from Delhi today. She is such a sweet girl. She's doing MBA. Why don't you talk to her once?"

My smile faded.

"Ma..."

"No, listen to me! You're thirty. How long will you live like a guest in your own life? You need someone, beta. Someone to come home to."

I stared at the dim reflection of myself in the window glass, my face floating over the city lights like a ghost.

"I'm fine, Ma."

"Fine?" she echoed softly. "You always say that word like it hurts to say anything else. You sound tired, Vivaan. Really tired."

I swallowed."Just work pressure."

"Kaam kabhi khatam nahi hota, beta. But life, life goes too fast. At least let someone take care of you."

My throat tightened. I rubbed my temple, pretending the ache was from staring at screens and not from years of silence.

"I'm okay, Ma. Don't worry."

"I'm your mother." she said, her voice breaking into softness, "Worry is my job. I can hear when my son isn't happy."

I didn't answer.

The silence stretched long enough for her to sigh that deep, knowing sigh that only mothers have.

"Bas theek hai. Promise me you'll eat properly tonight."

"I will."

"And call me tomorrow morning. I just like hearing your voice."

"Okay, Ma."

"Good boy" she said, her tone melting into affection. "Goodnight, beta."

"Goodnight."

The call ended with a click that sounded louder than it should have.

For a while, I didn't move. The darkness of the room pressed against me. I could still hear her voice echoing faintly, bright, warm and untouched by the storm I lived with.

I looked at my phone. The last glow from the screen reflected in my eyes.

I wanted to call her back. To tell her everything. That the nights weren't just quiet, they were cruel. That some memories didn't fade, they just learned how to hide better.

But I didn't.

I leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling until my eyes blurred. A single tear rolled down the side of my face, into my hair, quiet as rain on glass.

I whispered into the emptiness,

"I'm fine, Ma."

The words cracked halfway through; small, broken and obedient.

Outside, the city carried on honking cars, laughter and music from some faraway party. Inside, I sat motionless; a man made of silence and unfinished sentences.

Vivaan's Diary Entry #1

There are two kinds of silences. The one you choose and the one that chooses you.

Mine began on a night I can't erase, it sits in my bones like unspent sorrow. Every morning, I wake up pretending the mirror is kinder than memory. Every night, I lie to the only person who still calls me with love in her voice.

Ma thinks I've forgotten how to smile. The truth is worse. I remember exactly when I stopped.