Unplugged - Part 3 (Unplugged)

That evening, Rohan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone screen, though nothing on it made sense anymore.

Notifications kept buzzing, reels kept looping, but he felt like a spectator in his own life.

His father quietly stepped into the room, carrying two steaming cups of tea. He placed one beside Rohan and sat next to him without saying a word.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the ticking of the old wall clock and the faint chirping of crickets outside the window.

Then his father finally broke the silence.

His voice was calm, but it carried weight. “Rohan… what is happening, beta? You do not smile the way you used to. You eat, but you are not really there. Even when you sit with us, your eyes are far away. We all love you so much, but it feels like we are losing pieces of you, one by one. Tell me… what is going on in your heart?”

Rohan kept staring at the floor. His throat felt heavy, but the words tumbled out. “Papa… I just feel like I am not enough. Everywhere I look, people are doing so much. Friends are traveling the world, buying cars, getting promotions, looking perfect. And I… I just feel ordinary. Small. Invisible. Like no matter what I do, I will never be enough.”

His father listened, without interrupting. He let the silence hold Rohan’s words, let them land. Then he leaned forward, his eyes soft, almost moist. “Beta, I see you. Every single day, I see you. Do you know what I see?”

Rohan lifted his eyes slowly.

“I see the way you make your mother laugh when she is tired. I see how your little sister refuses to eat dinner until you join her at the table, because food feels incomplete without you. I see how you brighten this house just by walking in, how the air feels lighter, warmer, because you are here.”

Rohan’s lips trembled. A tear slid down his cheek, uninvited.

“And I see more,” his father continued, his hand gently resting on Rohan’s shoulder. “I see the boy who once fell off his bicycle, scraped his knees, and still got up and rode again, even while crying. I see the teenager who stayed awake the whole night helping his friend finish a project, even when his own work was pending. I see the young man who never hesitates to share the last piece of sweet with his family, even when he wants it himself.”

Rohan could no longer hold back. His face was wet, his chest tight, his heart pounding.

His father’s voice softened, almost a whisper now. “And you know what else I see? I see a voice inside you that no one else in this world has. A voice that does not need to be louder than others. A voice that carries truth, kindness, and heart. Beta, that is more precious than any vacation picture, any six-pack abs, any number of followers. That is who you are. That is enough. More than enough.”

The words broke something inside Rohan, but in the breaking, something healed. He let out a sob, raw and unfiltered, and fell into his father’s chest. His father held him tight, like he had when Rohan was a child scared of thunderstorms.

For a long time, they stayed like that. No phones, no filters, no noise. Just a father and son, hearts pressed together, breathing in sync.

And in that embrace, Rohan felt it. The truth. The love. The enough-ness he had been searching for everywhere else.

That night, he placed his phone aside, not out of discipline, but out of choice. For the first time in a long while, he did not need the world’s approval. He just needed this.

***The End***

#flashfiction #shortstories #life #socialmedia #psychological