A New Resolve

Sunday with his family felt like a soft, warm blanket wrapped around Raghav, shielding him from the world's harsh edges. The constant buzz of worry and dread that had lived inside him for days finally quieted, almost vanishing entirely.

He found himself genuinely laughing at his sister Kavya's jokes, even the truly silly ones about his instant noodle collection. The sound of his own laughter felt unfamiliar, yet freeing.

He listened intently to his father Rajesh's familiar, rambling complaints about village life, the stubborn soil, and the unpredictable rains.

He nodded along earnestly to his mother Sobha's gentle, loving nagging about his perpetually messy apartment. For the first time since the terrifying dream had shattered his peace, he felt truly alive, truly present in the moment, rather than just moving through it.

The heavy weight of his secret—the cold fear of collapsing cities and the haunting image of the boy in the rubble—seemed to lift, pushed away by the simple, comforting presence of his loved ones. He wasn't thinking about his incredible, dangerous power, or the dark, prophetic visions that plagued his sleep.

He was just enjoying, completely, wholeheartedly, every shared smile and every familiar word.

As evening deepened, casting long shadows across the small living room, they decided to watch a comedy movie together on his old, slightly flickering television.

The sound of unrestrained laughter filled the space, making the walls feel less empty, less confining. More like a real home—brimming with warmth and life.

Raghav smiled deeply, a relaxed expression that reached his eyes, his shoulders slowly loosening from their constant tense hunch.

He watched his family, their faces lit by the television's soft glow, their smiles bright and real, completely unaware.

In the middle of a particularly hilarious scene, a wave of thirst pulled him from the movie's spell. He got up to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen.

The sudden quiet of the hallway felt jarring after the lively noise of the living room. It was like stepping into another world. He filled his glass from the tap—the cold water a brief, sharp shock—and slowly walked back.

Just before re-entering the room, he paused at the doorway, momentarily hidden in shadow.

His family was still laughing freely. His mother, Sobha, her head thrown back in joy. His father, Rajesh, a rare wide grin on his serious face. Kavya, nudging Arun with her elbow.

Even Arun, to Raghav's surprise, looked up from his phone with a genuine smile. They were so happy, so innocent in their joy. Utterly unaware of the terrible things Raghav had seen.

Then, like a punch to the gut, a cold memory of his dream surged through him. Not blurry fragments this time, but the raw, visceral feeling of it. The crumbling buildings.

The roar of the earthquake. The sickening red sky. The distant screams, abruptly silenced. And the little boy, reaching out his hand in desperation, only for Raghav's hand to pass right through him.

His smile vanished. A cold dread seeped into his chest, pushing out the warmth.

What if the dreams were real? What if they weren't just nightmares born of exhaustion, but warnings? Visions of a future that truly awaited them?

The vision of their joyful faces, now overlaid with images of dust and ruin, paralyzed him. His eyes fell on Arun, closest to the doorway, still chuckling at the movie. So fragile in his innocence. A fierce, protective instinct ignited in Raghav's chest.

How can I protect my family? The question burned in his mind. Can I use this power? This strange, unbelievable ability that lets me control machines with my thoughts?

The power he had avoided for days now felt like a desperate lifeline. He had feared it—feared the chaos it hinted at. But now, a stronger fear had taken hold. The fear of being helpless. Of watching his loved ones vanish while doing nothing.

Arun sensed something. He looked up, concern flickering in his eyes. "What happened, bhai?" he asked softly.

Raghav shook his head quickly, forcing a neutral expression. "Nothing," he said, voice rougher than he intended. He walked back to the sofa, picked up his tea, and stared at the screen.

He didn't want to shatter this moment of normalcy. Even as his mind raced with a new, urgent purpose.

They watched the movie till past midnight. His parents yawned and went to the guest room. Kavya and Arun grumbled playfully before settling on the living room floor. Raghav helped his mother put away snacks, still thinking about the shift inside him. The clarity that had replaced his fear.

The apartment grew quiet. Only the sound of his family's soft breathing remained—a sound that now filled him with love and a fierce sense of responsibility.

Raghav went to his room. He didn't open his laptop. He lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. This time, the sleeplessness felt different. The dread was still there, but something stronger had joined it: purpose.

He didn't dream that night. When sleep finally came, it was deep. Heavy. Untroubled by crumbling cities or screams. The sleep of someone who had chosen a path.

When morning came, the light felt different. A cold, sharp resolve filled him from head to toe. The confusion and fear of the past few days were gone.

He knew exactly what he had to do. His power wasn't a curse. It was a tool. A weapon. A responsibility. He needed to master it. Learn every limit. Every capability.

If the dreams were truly warnings, he had to be ready. He had to protect his family. No matter the cost.

His life had changed—not because he had a power. But because he now had a purpose. And he knew with chilling certainty: this was just the beginning of a journey he could not, would not, turn back from.