Chapter 11: Whispers in the Drawer

Raj lay awake in the darkness, the ceiling fan above him slicing the stifling air into thin, restless ribbons. Every sound in the house seemed amplified at night—the creak of the old wooden frame, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant, muffled breathing from the other side of the wall. He stared at the ceiling, his mind replaying the sights he’d seen through that damned keyhole. He tried to close his eyes, but the images—Rony’s movements, his mother’s voice—wouldn’t let him rest.

Hours crept by, and the moonlight, thin and ghostly, filtered through the gap under his door. Raj’s thoughts churned. He was angry, terrified, helpless. He knew he couldn’t let it go on. But what could he do? Every time he tried to talk to his mother, she shut him out. Every time he tried to act, Rony turned the tables and made Raj the villain.

He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. The sheets smelled faintly of detergent, nothing like home. He needed something—anything—that could give him a foothold, a way to prove what was happening wasn’t just in his head. He needed proof.

His gaze drifted to the sliver of light beneath his mother’s door. He wondered if she was still awake. If she was thinking about what happened, or if she’d already convinced herself it was all in Raj’s imagination.

He waited. The house was quiet now. The shower had stopped. The bed in the next room had gone still. Raj listened for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Only the slow tick of the clock on the nightstand.

After what felt like forever, he rose quietly from the bed. He padded to his door, pressing his ear against it. Nothing. He tiptoed across the hall, careful not to let the floorboards creak. He reached Sri’s bedroom, the one he’d been forbidden to enter unless invited. The door was ajar, just a crack, as it usually was when she left it open to let in the night air.

Raj hesitated, his heart pounding. He glanced down the hall—no one was around. He pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. Sri’s clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. Her slippers were by the bed, still scented with her perfume.

He moved slowly, trying not to disturb anything. His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything out of place. He half expected the air to be thick with some invisible tension, but it just smelled like her—powder and something faintly floral.

He looked at the dresser. On top of it sat a small, battered diary, bound in faded blue. It wasn’t there yesterday, he was sure of it. Raj frowned. Why would his mother keep a diary here? He hadn’t seen her write before.

Curiosity wrestled with guilt inside his chest. But he needed something, anything, to back him up. He reached for the diary, running his thumb over the cracked spine. It felt heavier than he expected. He opened it quietly, careful not to let the pages rustle too loudly.

The first few pages were old, filled with neat, careful writing. He skipped ahead, scanning for anything recent. The handwriting changed a little further back—a loopy, hurried script, as if written in a hurry. But the last entries were tight and small, almost cramped.

April 12th.

Can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me. Rony’s been so close lately. I tell myself he just needs someone to lean on, but it’s more than that. He looks at me the way I never wanted a child to look at their mother. I want to trust him, but something inside me recoils every time he touches me.

April 13th.

He followed me into the kitchen again today. I let him, because what’s the harm? But when he put his hand on my waist, I felt a chill. Am I overreacting? I keep telling myself he’s just lonely. But I can’t explain why it feels so wrong.

April 14th.

He asked me if he could sleep in my room. I said yes. Big mistake. I barely slept a wink. Every time I moved, he was there—his hand on my back, his breath so close to my neck. I wanted to push him away, but the words wouldn’t come. He said, “You’re my only mom now.” That’s what he said. My heart broke a little.

April 15th.

I woke up with his face buried in my chest. I didn’t wake him. I just lay there, frozen, while he breathed in my scent. I don’t know if I was more scared of him or myself. Why can’t I say no? Why does it feel like he owns me now?

April 16th.

He asked me today if he could… if he could do something like a baby would. I almost said no. I did say no, at first. But he looked at me with those big, lost eyes and told me about his mother. How he missed her. How he needed me. I gave in. I don’t know if I did the right thing.

Raj’s stomach clenched. The words blurred as he read them again. His hands trembled. He could almost hear his mother’s voice whispering these doubts, the same ones Raj had tried to explain. But seeing them here, in her own handwriting, made it real.

He turned the page, scanning for more.

April 17th.

I feel like I’m losing control. Rony knows exactly what he’s doing. He plays the victim so well. He tells me Raj is unstable, that I need to protect him. I believe him. I want to believe him. But there’s a part of me that knows this isn’t right. That I’m not myself anymore.

Raj’s throat tightened. He reread the last line over and over, as if it would change. He could almost hear his mother’s voice—soft, desperate, pleading with herself to believe the lies.

He closed the diary quickly, heart hammering. What now? He’d found what he was looking for, but it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like confirmation of everything he already knew. Worse, in a way.

He slipped the diary back into the drawer, careful to leave it just as he found it. His mind raced with possibilities. Should he confront her now? Should he show her the diary? But he knew how she’d react. Rony had already twisted everything else. This might just make her shut him out completely.

He stood there for a moment, listening to the silence of the house. Somewhere down the hall, Rony’s door creaked softly. Raj froze. Had he made a noise? He held his breath, not daring to move.

The creak was followed by soft footsteps. Raj’s pulse quickened. He ducked behind the wardrobe, pressing himself as far back as he could go, hoping he was hidden in the shadows. The footsteps drew closer, slow and deliberate.

Rony’s voice, low and almost sing-song, drifted into the room. “Looking for something, Raj?”

Raj’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t heard Rony come in. How long had he been there?

Rony stepped into the patch of moonlight, his face half-lit, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips. He closed the door quietly behind him.

“I knew you’d come in here sooner or later,” Rony said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t help yourself. Always snooping.”

Raj tried to speak, but his voice was stuck. He clenched his fists, trying to find the words.

Rony’s eyes flicked to the dresser, then back to Raj. “You found Mom’s diary, didn’t you? I knew she kept that. She thinks it’s safe here. But you’re not as clever as you think.”

Raj’s mind raced. He hadn’t thought Rony would know about the diary. He tried to back away, but the wardrobe was jammed against the wall. Rony took a step closer.

“I’ve been watching you, Raj. You think you’re the only one who sees what’s going on. But I see everything. I know what you’re planning.”

Raj’s anger flared. “What are you planning, Rony? What are you doing to Mom?”

Rony’s smile widened, cruel now. “You’re the one with the problem, Raj. You’re the one who’s sick in the head. You’re jealous of me. You want Mom all to yourself. But she loves me. She chose me.”

Raj’s fists trembled. “She’s not choosing this. You’re manipulating her. You’re using her pain against her.”

Rony’s eyes glittered in the dim light. “And what are you going to do about it? Tell her? Show her the diary? She’ll just say you’re unstable. She’ll side with me. Like always.”

Raj felt the truth of that, heavy and suffocating. He wanted to lash out, to hit Rony, but he knew it would just give him what he wanted.

Rony stepped even closer, his breath hot on Raj’s face. “You should just leave, Raj. Go back to your perfect little life. Let Mom and me be. Or else you’ll regret it. I can make sure your father finds out about… everything. And you’ll never see her again.”

Raj shuddered. The threat was real. He remembered the photos Rony had hinted at, the ones he could send with a single tap.

Rony backed away, his tone suddenly soft and wounded. “Why are you doing this to us, Raj? Why can’t you just let us be happy?”

Raj opened his mouth to reply, but Rony was already moving toward the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back with a smirk. “Think about it. You’re not the hero here. You’re just a kid who can’t handle the truth.”

He slipped out and closed the door softly behind him, leaving Raj in the darkness, the echo of his words ringing in his ears.

Raj stood there, heart pounding, the diary still tucked under his arm. He felt trapped—by fear, by Rony’s threats, by the certainty that no one would believe him. But he couldn’t let it go on. He had to do something. He had to talk to his mother. He had to show her the truth, even if it destroyed everything.

He crept out of the room, the diary clutched tightly in his hand. The house was quiet now, the shadows deeper and more menacing than before. He moved down the hall toward his mother’s room, his mind made up.

He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath. He raised his hand to knock, but before he could, he heard voices from inside—soft, urgent, low.

He froze.

“…I don’t want to hurt you, beta,” Sri’s voice, trembling. “But you have to stop. You’re scaring me.”

“No, Mom. I can’t stop. I need you. I can’t lose you,” Rony’s voice, pleading, almost desperate.

Raj’s blood turned to ice. He pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear more.

“I just want to feel safe. Like I did when I was little,” Rony said, his voice cracking. “You promised me, remember? You said you’d always be there for me.”

Sri’s voice was softer now, almost a whisper. “I never meant it like this, Rony. I—”

“But you didn’t say no. You never said no.”

Raj’s fingers curled around the diary. He wanted to burst in, to shout the truth, to make them both see. But he knew it would only make things worse. Rony would turn it around. His mother would believe Rony’s lies.

He stepped back from the door, his mind spinning. He couldn’t let this go on. But he also couldn’t risk making it worse. He stood there in the hallway, paralyzed, the weight of the diary heavy in his hand, the voices inside the room cutting him to the bone.

He retreated to his own room, the diary clutched to his chest. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling, the words from the diary and Rony’s voice replaying over and over in his mind. He didn’t know what to do next. But he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

But before he could decide his next move, he heard hurried footsteps in the hall. Rony’s voice, loud and indignant, called out, “Mom! Raj’s been in your room! He was snooping around and looking at your things!”

Sri’s voice, sharp with alarm, replied, “Raj! What is the meaning of this? Why were you in my room?”

Raj’s heart dropped. He had been caught. He stood up, the diary still in his hand, as he heard Rony push open his door. Rony stepped in, eyes blazing with triumph.

“He’s obsessed with you, Mom. He can’t let go. He keeps trying to come between us. He’s not normal, Mom. He’s dangerous.”

Sri’s voice was tight, angry now. “Raj, explain yourself. Now.”

Raj opened his mouth, but the words stuck. He looked at his mother, desperate for her to see the truth, but her eyes were hard, filled with hurt and anger.

“He was reading my diary,” Sri said, her voice shaking. “Raj, how could you? That’s a violation. You have no right.”

Raj tried again. “Mom, please. I found it by accident. I just—I wanted to understand. I wanted you to know—”

“You wanted what?” Sri interrupted, her voice rising. “You wanted to spy on me? To embarrass me? After everything?”

Rony watched, a smug little smile on his face. “See, Mom? I told you. He’s not to be trusted.”

Sri turned to Rony, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Raj. After everything we’ve been through.”

Raj shook his head, frustration boiling over. “No, Mom. You have to listen to me. Rony’s been—”

“Enough!” Sri snapped. “Rony, go wait in the living room. Raj, get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night. Do you hear me?”

Rony didn’t wait for a second invitation. He left, but not before shooting Raj a look that promised worse to come.

Sri stood in the doorway for a moment, her face pale, her hands trembling. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Raj. I thought you loved me. I thought you could be trusted.”

Raj tried one last time. “Mom, please. Just read the diary. It’s—”

She shook her head, tears starting to well in her eyes. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you right now. Go to your room. And stay there.”

The door shut. The click of the lock was final.

Raj stood there in the hallway, the diary in his hand, the words he’d hoped would save them now burning in his pocket like a brand. He knew, with a sinking feeling, that he had just made things irrevocably worse.

But he also knew he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

He turned and walked back to his room, the echo of his mother’s voice and Rony’s smugness chasing him down the hall. Outside his door, the world felt even smaller, even more hopeless. But inside, a new resolve was building.

He wouldn’t let this go on. Not anymore.

But for now, he had to wait. And in the waiting, the silence pressed in around him, heavy and suffocating, as the night stretched on.