★Rihaan's Trauma★

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Mr. Mehra leaned back in his chair, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of the table. He glanced at Raj, his eldest son, sitting opposite him, his face somber. His voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of months of guilt and helplessness.

"Raj, we need to know who those boys were," he began, his eyes pleading. "They tormented Rihaan for years, ruined his childhood. How can we let them get away with it? I want their names."

Raj sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He had anticipated this conversation ever since Rihaan had started therapy and bits of his horrific past began to surface. He knew his father's anger and frustration were fueled by love, but he also knew this wasn't as simple as confronting someone and getting answers.

"Papa," Raj began gently, "I understand how you feel. Trust me, I've thought about this too. But... it's not that easy." He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I asked Rihaan about the bullies when he finally opened up to me. He said they left the school after about five years-by the time he was thirteen, they had already left the school."

Mr. Mehra frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration. "But the school must have records. We can find out who they were-"

Raj interrupted, his tone firmer now. "I tried, Papa. I went to the school myself when I first found out about what happened. I demanded answers, asked them to check the records and explain how this could happen under their watch. They gave me the usual excuses-lack of evidence, no complaints filed at the time. They even said it was years ago, and the students in question were long gone. It's practically impossible to trace them now."

Mr. Mehra's shoulders slumped, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "So, that's it? We just let it go? Those boys get to move on with their lives while Rihaan-" His voice broke, and he stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Raj leaned forward, his voice softening. "I know it feels unfair, Papa. It is unfair. But think about it-what would we even do if we found them? Confront them? File a complaint? It's been over a decade. There's no evidence left, no witnesses willing to step forward. Even Rihaan... he doesn't remember their names clearly. He blocked so much of it out just to survive."

Mr. Mehra looked away, his jaw tight. The thought of his youngest son enduring so much pain without them knowing was a wound he couldn't seem to heal.

Raj reached out, placing a hand on his father's. "Right now, what matters most is Rihaan. He's getting the help he needs. We can't change the past, but we can make sure his future is brighter. Digging up the bullies won't fix what's already broken. Let's focus on helping him heal."

Mr. Mehra nodded slowly, his heart heavy but his resolve firm. "You're right. For Rihaan's sake... we'll move forward."

*****

The therapy sessions began soon after Rihaan agreed to give it a try. The first few meetings were awkward, full of silences and uncertainty, but the therapist, Dr. Mehta, was patient with Rihaan. She created a safe environment for him to speak about his experiences at his own pace. With time, he began to open up about the bullying, the fear, and the sense of helplessness that had consumed him during those years.

Dr. Mehta helped him understand that his emotions were valid and that his trauma had left deep scars that wouldn't heal overnight. She explained how the bullying had shattered his self-confidence and trust in the world, and how those years of fear had triggered the intense nightmares he experienced. The sessions helped lessen the weight of his trauma, but they also brought new challenges to the surface.

As Rihaan delved deeper into the therapy, he realized that the damage done by the bullying wasn't just emotional-it had fundamentally affected the way he saw himself. He no longer felt capable of handling the world as an adult, and with the nightmares still haunting him, he started to feel like he was stuck in a place he couldn't escape. His mind, overwhelmed by fear, began to retreat into a space where he felt safer-a place where he didn't have to deal with the complexities of adult life.

At first, the changes in Rihaan's behavior were subtle. He started clinging to small comforts, like the cartoons he used to watch as a child, or the old stuffed toy he found buried in the closet. Raj noticed that Rihaan would spend hours watching animated shows meant for children, laughing at the silliest jokes, and refusing to switch to anything else. His conversations, too, began to take on a more childish tone. He spoke more simply, using words and expressions he hadn't used since he was a boy.

Raj didn't think much of it at first. Maybe it was a way for Rihaan to cope, to find some relief in nostalgia. But as the days passed, the changes became more pronounced.

One evening, as Raj walked into the living room, he found Rihaan sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with a set of colorful blocks. His expression was one of pure concentration, like he was building the most important structure in the world.

"Hey, Rihaan, what are you up to?" Raj asked, trying to sound casual, though a part of him was concerned.

Rihaan looked up, grinning widely. "I'm building a house! Look, Bhai, it's like the one we used to make when we were little, remember?"

Raj blinked, surprised by the tone in Rihaan's voice. It wasn't just excitement-it was the kind of excitement a child would have, full of wonder and innocence. His heart sank a little as he knelt beside his brother.

"Yeah, I remember," Raj said softly, playing along. "It's really cool, Rihaan. You've got some serious skills there."

Rihaan beamed, clearly pleased with the praise, and went back to stacking the blocks, his tongue sticking out in concentration. Raj watched him for a while, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He didn't want to interrupt Rihaan's happiness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting in his brother's mind.

*****

In therapy, Dr. Mehta began to notice the shift as well. Rihaan's sessions became less about confronting his trauma and more about retreating from it. He would talk about his childhood memories, focusing on the games he used to play and the things that made him feel safe back then. He avoided conversations about his future or his adult responsibilities, and instead seemed to immerse himself in a world where he didn't have to face the fears that still lurked in the corners of his mind.

One day, during a session, Rihaan brought in a drawing he had made. It was a simple picture, filled with bright colors and childlike scribbles-a house, a sun, and a few stick figures representing his family.

"I made this for you, Dr. Mehta," Rihaan said proudly, handing her the drawing as if it were a priceless piece of art.

Dr. Mehta smiled warmly, taking the drawing from him. "Thank you, Rihaan. It's beautiful."

Rihaan nodded, satisfied with her response, and sat down in the chair, swinging his legs like a child would.

"Do you remember when you used to draw like this as a little boy?" Dr. Mehta asked gently.

Rihaan tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "Yeah... I used to draw a lot. I liked it. It made me happy."

"Does drawing still make you happy?" she asked.

Rihaan shrugged. "I guess so. It makes me feel... safe. Like nothing bad can happen when I'm drawing."

Dr. Mehta nodded thoughtfully. "It's good that you've found something that brings you comfort, Rihaan. But I also want you to think about how we can bring that sense of safety into your everyday life, as an adult."

Rihaan's expression darkened slightly, and he fidgeted in his seat. "I don't want to be an adult," he mumbled. "It's too scary. Being a kid is easier. No one expects anything from you."

Dr. Mehta leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "I understand that, Rihaan. The world can be overwhelming, especially after everything you've been through. But running away from it won't make the fear go away. We can work on finding ways to face it together, step by step."

Rihaan didn't respond right away. His eyes wandered to the window, where the sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over the room. He felt a knot in his chest, the familiar feeling of anxiety creeping in. The thought of going back to being an adult-dealing with the responsibilities, the expectations, the fears-was terrifying.

*****

As time went on, Rihaan's coping mechanism became more entrenched. His family, though supportive, began to realize that Rihaan wasn't progressing the way they had hoped. The nightmares had lessened, but the childlike behavior was becoming more and more prominent. He started talking in a higher-pitched voice, asking to be called "buddy," as he was called as a kid and requesting things that made him feel like he was still a kid, like coloring books and toys.

His mother was heartbroken. She didn't know how to react when Rihaan asked her to tuck him into bed at night or when he wanted to sit on her lap while watching TV. His father, too, found it difficult to navigate the changes. He would watch his son with a mixture of sorrow and confusion, unsure of how to connect with the boy he had once known.

It was Raj who tried the hardest to keep things normal. He continued to talk to Rihaan as if nothing had changed, but it became increasingly difficult as Rihaan's behavior became more childlike. One afternoon, Raj came home from work to find Rihaan sitting on the floor in the living room, surrounded by a sea of toy cars.

"Hey, buddy," Raj greeted, trying to hide the concern in his voice. "What's all this?"

Rihaan looked up with a bright smile. "I'm playing with my cars! Wanna play too?"

Raj hesitated for a moment, then knelt down next to his brother. "Sure, let's race," he said, picking up one of the cars.

As they played, Raj couldn't help but notice how completely absorbed Rihaan was in the game, as if nothing else in the world mattered. It was both heartbreaking and relieving. Rihaan wasn't suffering in the same way he had before, but it was clear that this childlike state was his way of avoiding the pain that still lingered inside him.

*****

One evening, as Raj sat with his parents, they discussed what to do next. Mrs. Mehra wiped tears from her eyes as she spoke.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I miss my son... my real son. This... this isn't him."

Mr. Mehra nodded solemnly. "He's lost, Radhika. We want to bring him back, but I don't know how."

Raj listened quietly, his own heart heavy with the weight of the situation. He loved Rihaan more than anything, but he also knew that his brother was retreating further and further into this coping mechanism. Therapy had helped with the nightmares, but it had also solidified Rihaan's need to escape reality.

"We can't force him to change," Raj finally said. "But we can keep supporting him. We have to be patient, even though it's hard. Maybe... maybe he just needs more time."

They all knew it wouldn't be easy, but they weren't willing to give up on Rihaan. He was still there, somewhere beneath the surface-hidden beneath the childlike façade he had built to protect himself from the world.

And they would wait for him. No matter how long it took, they would be there, ready to help him find his way back.

*****

As the months passed, it became increasingly clear that Rihaan's coping mechanism had solidified into a permanent escape. His family watched helplessly as he fully embraced his childlike persona, retreating into a world where he was no longer burdened by the responsibilities and fears of adulthood. The once-bright young man they had known was now living in a bubble of innocence, oblivious to the complexities of the life he had left behind.

Rihaan refused to acknowledge that he was an adult, and any attempt to make him confront reality only caused him anxiety and distress. He rejected the idea of taking on any responsibilities, from managing his finances to even small tasks like going to the grocery store. His family, especially his brother Raj, tried to balance supporting him while gently encouraging him to reconnect with the adult world, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

One morning, as Raj sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee, Rihaan walked in, wearing a brightly colored t-shirt with a cartoon character on it. His hair was messy, and he looked every bit like an eight-year-old excited for a day of fun.

"Bhai! Bhai! Guess what!" Rihaan's voice was high-pitched with excitement, his face glowing with enthusiasm.

Raj looked up, forcing a smile despite the heaviness in his heart. "What's up, buddy?"

"I'm going to make a fort today! A really big one with all my pillows and blankets! You wanna help?" Rihaan's eyes sparkled as he bounced on his toes, barely able to contain his excitement.

Raj sighed inwardly, but he didn't let it show. He knew this was Rihaan's way of feeling safe, of finding joy in a world that had once caused him so much pain. But the sight of his grown brother acting like a little boy never got easier. Raj wanted to see Rihaan thrive, not just survive in this make-believe world.

"Sure, Rihaan," Raj said, setting his coffee down. "But hey, don't you think we should do some other stuff today, too? Maybe we can go out and grab lunch or-"

"No!" Rihaan interrupted, his face falling immediately, his eyes wide with fear. "I don't want to go out! I want to stay home and play. Can we please just stay here?"

Raj winced. The idea of leaving the house clearly terrified Rihaan, and it was becoming more frequent. Any mention of stepping outside or doing something remotely adult sent him into a panic.

"Okay, okay," Raj said gently, raising his hands in surrender. "We'll stay home and build the fort. No problem."

Rihaan's smile returned in an instant, and he ran off to gather the blankets. Raj watched him go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that his brother's childlike behavior wasn't just a phase anymore. This was Rihaan's reality now.

*****

In therapy, Rihaan's progress had stagnated. Dr. Mehta continued to meet with him, but each session felt like walking in circles. Rihaan avoided any topics related to adulthood, shutting down emotionally whenever Dr. Mehta tried to talk about his responsibilities or the future. He spoke only about cartoons, toys, and the things that made him feel safe. The more she tried to bring him out of his childlike state, the more he resisted.

During one session, Dr. Mehta tried a different approach. She handed Rihaan a picture of himself from his graduation day, back when he had just finished school. He looked so blank and broken in the photo, a stark contrast to the Rihaan who sat before her now.

"Rihaan, do you remember this day?" Dr. Mehta asked softly, sliding the photo across the table.

Rihaan glanced at it briefly before pushing it away, his expression turning fearful. "I don't like that picture," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Why not?" Dr. Mehta pressed, keeping her tone gentle. "It was an important day. You worked hard to get there."

Rihaan shook his head, his voice trembling. "I don't like it because... because that's not me. I don't want to be him. I don't want to be a grown-up."

"Why does being a grown-up scare you so much, Rihaan?" Dr. Mehta asked, leaning forward slightly. "What's so frightening about it?"

Rihaan's breathing quickened, and he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. "Because grown-ups have to do things. They have to go outside and talk to people, and they have to face the world and... and it's scary. It's too hard. I don't want to do it."

Dr. Mehta nodded, her expression softening. "I understand. You feel safe when you don't have to deal with those things. But Rihaan, you can still be safe and face the world. You don't have to do it alone."

Rihaan looked down, fidgeting with his hands. "I don't want to," he whispered, his voice small and childlike.

Dr. Mehta sighed softly, knowing that pushing him further would only cause more distress. She needed to help him find his way back slowly, without overwhelming him. But the road ahead was long, and Rihaan's attachment to his childlike state was growing stronger every day.

*****

At home, Rihaan's behavior became even more entrenched in his childlike world. He would spend hours playing with toys, coloring in books, and watching cartoons. His conversations were filled with the innocence of a young boy, and he refused to engage in anything remotely related to adulthood.

One evening, as the family sat down for dinner, His mother placed a plate of food in front of Rihaan, who frowned at the vegetables on his plate.

"I don't like broccoli," Rihaan whined, pushing the plate away.

She exchanged a glance with Raj, her heart aching. She bent down to Rihaan's level, speaking softly. "Rihaan, you need to eat your vegetables, okay? They're good for you."

Rihaan crossed his arms, pouting like a stubborn child. "No! I don't want it. I want pizza."

Raj sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Rihaan, you're not a little kid anymore. You need to eat what's on your plate."

At those words, Rihaan's eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head vehemently. "I am a kid! I don't want to be a grown-up! I don't like it!"

The room fell silent, the weight of Rihaan's words hanging heavily in the air. Mrs. Mehra's eyes welled with tears as she knelt beside her son, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Rihaan, sweetie... you're not a little boy anymore," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But that doesn't mean we love you any less. You can still feel safe with us."

Rihaan pulled away from her touch, retreating into himself. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, refusing to look at anyone.

"I don't want to be a grown-up," he muttered again, his voice barely audible.

Raj watched the scene unfold, feeling a deep sense of helplessness. His brother was trapped in his own mind, stuck in a place where he felt safe but isolated from the real world. No matter how much they tried, they couldn't reach him-not in the way they wanted to.

As the weeks passed, Rihaan's attachment to his childlike persona only grew stronger. He avoided any reminders of adulthood, retreating further into his safe space where he could remain an innocent, carefree child. His family tried to support him, but they were at a loss for how to bring him back. The therapy sessions continued, but Rihaan's resistance to change made progress slow and uncertain.

The man who had once been full of potential and promise was now a shadow of himself, hidden behind the walls of a coping mechanism that had become his permanent escape.

And for now, all his family could do was wait. Wait for the day when Rihaan would find the courage to face the world again.

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