Chapter 2: The Child No One Questioned
Mumbai, late 1980s.
Sushant Kamat grew up in a home that was stable, structured, and quietly loving.
Naina, his elder sister, was responsible and dependable. The kind of child parents never had to worry about.
And Sushant—
Was the perfect son.
Or at least, that’s what everyone believed.
He was calm. Obedient. Easy to raise.
He didn’t fight. Didn’t demand. Didn’t create chaos like other boys his age.
“Such a well-behaved boy,” relatives would often say.
His mother would smile.
But sometimes… she would look at him a little longer than usual.
As if trying to understand something she couldn’t explain.
There were no obvious signs.
No rebellion.
No discomfort.
Sushant never questioned being a boy.
And yet… there was a subtle difference.
He was softer.
Not weak—but gentle.
He observed more than he reacted.
He felt more than he expressed.
At times, his mother would say things casually—without intention, without awareness.
“You’ll understand when you become a mother someday,” she once said absentmindedly.
Then she paused.
Smiled it off.
Moved on.
But Sushant didn’t.
He didn’t understand why that sentence stayed with him.
Why it felt… strangely personal.
Life moved forward normally.
School. Homework. Family routines.
Nothing that stood out.
Nothing that hinted at what was coming.
Because the truth was—
There was nothing to see.
Not yet.
Whatever existed within him…
Was waiting.
Waiting for the right moment.
The right trigger.
The right silence.
And that moment came when he turned thirteen.
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