That night, the apartment was quiet except for the laptop’s hum and the clink of papers on the crowded table. Beside Vivek’s chair, Vivaan’s little toy bat waited, exactly where hopeful little hands had left it.

Vivek picked it up and stared at the scuffed red handle. “Later, buddy,” he had said all day. Later had slipped away. The bat felt feather-light, but the broken promise did not.

He sat down slowly and whispered into the dim room, “I got this wrong.”