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The Door That Waits

By Roshan Tara


By day, he plays the part—footsteps firm, voice lowered, eyes dry. Everyone calls him brave. But the door stays shut. At night, silence softens the world, and he breathes out the truth. A dress, soft and secret, brushes his skin. Lips painted with trembling hands, he smiles—real, fragile, alive. The door creaks; light spills in. He steps closer. As dawn breaks, he whispers, “I’m fine.” The door slams. He stares at the mirror, its glow gone. Still, he remembers—and one day, he’ll walk through without fear.


By Roshan Tara

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