The Ghost of Two Sons
The old man sat by the window of his crumbling house, his fingers tracing the rim of a chipped teacup. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the fragile windows, but inside, the real storm lay buried in the memories that haunted him. Rishab, his younger son, was a source of endless frustration. Unlike the ambitious child he had imagined, Rishab had convinced himself that staying at home and helping with household chores was his way of being “responsible.” He folded laundry, fixed leaky faucets, and ran errands, all the while assuring his parents that he was doing his part. But to the old man and his wife, this wasn’t enough. “You need to stand on your own feet,” the father had said countless times, his voice teetering between exasperation and hope. “Helping with chores isn’t a career. It’s not a life.” Yet Rishab remained, his days a monotonous loop of half-hearted tasks and idle hours. His parents watched helplessly as the world outside moved forward, while their son remained stuck...