The Window with No Curtains

Post by : Dr. Amrinder Pal Singh

The Window with No Curtains - By Dr. Amrinder Pal Singh
(A story of friends, fights, and the family we forget)

They say every teenager believes their parents don’t understand them.
But what if the truth is… they understand us better than anyone else ever will?

The Corner Desk

There was a boy named Aarav.
Sixteen, sharp-witted, fire in his eyes, music in his headphones, and a battlefield under his roof. He lived in a house with four windows and no warmth. At least, that’s how he saw it.

His father was always working. His mother always worried.
And all Aarav wanted was space. Privacy. Freedom. “Just let me live my life!” he’d yell — not knowing those words were blades that cut deeper than silence ever could.

Every night he would write poetry on a cracked phone screen and talk for hours with his friends — friends who laughed with him but never stayed when he cried.
He’d call them “his real family.”
And the two people down the hall?
“Just the people who raised me.”

The Wrong Turns

One Friday evening, Aarav’s closest friend — Zayan — asked him to sneak out. “Just a drive,” he said. “We’re not doing anything stupid.”

Aarav didn’t tell his parents. Of course not. Why should he?
They’d just say no. They’d "never understand."
He left a note: “Don’t wait up. I’m not a child.”

But that night was a storm waiting to happen.

Drunk laughter. Loud music. A stolen car.
By 2:14 AM, they had hit a divider at 70 miles per hour.

Zayan broke his arm. Aarav broke his world.

The Window with No Curtains

Aarav woke up in a hospital bed. No friends around. No messages. No stories on Instagram.
Just silence.

Until a soft voice whispered, “You’re awake.”
It was his mother. Her eyes were swollen — from crying or lack of sleep, he couldn’t tell. She had been holding his hand the entire night.

Then his father walked in. No lectures. No anger. Just a thermos of soup.
He didn’t say, “I told you so.”
He said, “We were scared you’d never come back.”

That night, Aarav saw something he hadn’t noticed in years:
His parents weren’t his enemies.
They were just his first friends — the kind that never left, no matter how loud he slammed the door.

The Truth in the Mirror

Weeks passed.
Zayan stopped replying. Others distanced themselves.
One even joked, “Bro, you should’ve taken the blame for the crash. You were driving anyway.”

That’s when Aarav realized:
Some friends are there for the ride.
Only a few are there when the car breaks down.
And parents? They walk behind you barefoot when the road is on fire.

For Every Teen Who Thinks They’re Alone

Today, Aarav writes poetry in a new notebook.
His phone is quieter. His home is not.
He eats dinner with his parents. Talks without shouting.
Still makes mistakes — but now he has the courage to say “I was wrong.”

He once thought love meant space.
Now he knows love also means staying.
Staying when it’s uncomfortable.
Staying when it’s easier to walk out.

Moral of the Story:
You don’t have to like your parents every moment.
But one day, when the noise fades and the filters drop, you’ll see:
They were the only ones clapping when no one else even stayed to watch.

And that window with no curtains?
It was always open — waiting for you to look back.

If you're a teenager:
Go hug your parents.
If you're a parent:
Hold space, not grudges.
If you're both:
Talk. Before life teaches you the hard way.

Author’s Note & Disclaimer 

This story is a reflection of certain feelings, thoughts, and life lessons I’ve carried within me — emotions I could never explain directly, so I chose to express them through fiction.

Every name, place, and event in this narrative is purely imaginary and born from my creative mind. There is no connection to any real person, living or dead.

But if you found even a fragment of truth, if something in this story spoke to your soul,
then I humbly ask you to share it —
not for me, but for someone else who might be waiting for a story like this to feel seen.

Because the only thing that’s truly real here... is the moral.

With gratitude,
– Dr. Amrinder Pal Singh

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