✨ Boys Do Cry: A Story of Ronak & Aarti ✨

😑 You Are So Insensitive

"You are very insensitive. All the boys and men are the same!"

Aarti was shouting in anger, and I wasn't even trying to stop her. She was mad that I didn’t cry while watching some emotional movie. Sure, some films get my eyes wet, but not all, especially the Bollywood ones.

Yes, I am Ronak. The guy who doesn't cry easily.


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🍽️ Dinner, Fights & Family

That evening, even during dinner, Aarti was still upset. But let me tell you something about her – she loves me very much. And sometimes, these fights happen because of that. Most of the time, she's incredibly mature.

We live in a joint family with my father, my younger brother, and sisters. That night, after dinner, Papa was about to stand up but suddenly sat back down.

I looked at him. And honestly, my eyes got a little wet.

My younger brother noticed and helped Papa get to the sofa.

Everyone went outside after dinner, but I stayed at the table. Aarti too. She had noticed it all. Her anger? Vanished. Tone? Changed.

"Ronak, do you need water?"

That voice... calm, soft.

I looked at her with a teasing smile, "Why are you talking sweetly now? We’re supposed to be fighting, remember?"

She smiled faintly. I knew she had noticed everything.


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🌇 A Father, A Memory

Later that night, I was sitting alone on the swing in the balcony. Eyes on the sky.

It’s been almost 10 years since my mother left us and went to the gods.

Since then, I’ve seen my father change. No arguments. No expectations. No anger. Just silence. Watching TV and sleeping. Physically too, he’s grown weak.

That night at the dining table, when he struggled to stand, something inside me cracked.

I’ve always seen him as our family’s pillar – tall, strong, loud-voiced, decisive.

Now?

He looks tired.

And I hate it.


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🧢 Boys Do Cry

Yeah, boys do cry.

We just don’t do it publicly.

Every guy reading this will agree: We see our fathers as our role models. The strongest men we know.

So when our pillar starts shaking, we feel helpless. We want to help, but can't bear watching them needing our help.

We cry — not for ourselves, but for them.

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🧡 Shoulder & Swing: The Moment

Then I heard a sweet voice…

“Ronak… Ronak… are you sleeping?”

Aarti. I must’ve been lost in thought for a while.

She sat beside me on the swing and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Back to my teasing self, I said, “What? Can’t hear you. Did you say something?”

She slapped my arm gently and kissed me on the cheek.

“I know you heard it. But I’ll say it again. I’m sorrryyyyy.”

I smiled and kissed her forehead.

As I told you — she holds onto things until she believes I’m okay.

She looked at me again and said,

“I know you’re worried about Papa’s health. I saw you looking away when he struggled to stand. You didn’t want anyone to see your tears… but I did.”

And spot on.

Didn’t I tell you? She’s very mature.

She knows what I feel before I say it.

She isn’t just the love of my life.

She’s the strength I didn’t know I needed.


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💞 The Hug, the Storm & the Chudail

I couldn’t hold it in anymore — I pulled Aarti into a hug.

And in that moment, she felt it — that emotional storm I’d been carrying.

Just for a few seconds… the silence spoke everything.

Her embrace tightened. She was holding not just my body, but my pain, my frustration, my helplessness.

A few drops of tears rolled down.

She didn’t say a word — she just stayed still until that emotional wave inside me began to settle.

Then, with perfect timing, she broke the silence.

“Ohh… what happened, Ronak?” she teased.

Before I could say anything, she leaned back a little and added with a mischievous smirk,
“Maybe something dropped in your eyes?”

That naughty smile on her face — it worked every time.

I couldn’t help but laugh and play along.

“Yeah… it’s your beauty that makes me cry.”

She raised her brows dramatically and asked,
“Oh really? Tell me more — as beautiful as…?”

I looked deep into her eyes, smiled, and whispered:

“As beautiful as… chudail.” 😈

That smile vanished instantly. She gasped.

“You… youuuu!! I hate you, Ronak! I hate you!!”

And started hitting me with her soft fists.

Laughing, I said, “Yes, yes. Hate you too!”

And within seconds, we were both laughing uncontrollably.

From heavy hearts to playful punches.

From tears to teasing.

That’s love.

That’s us.


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🌌 Closure — Two Souls on a Swing

The night was quiet again.

Stars sprinkled the sky, and the gentle creak of the swing was the only sound that filled the silence between us.

She was still resting her head on my shoulder, and I was still lost in thoughts — but this time, they weren't stormy.

They were calm.

They were memories… wrapped in hope.

I looked at her and smiled.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

She raised her head slightly. “For what?”

“For being the only person who hears even the silence in my words.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

Her hand just found mine — fingers locking softly, like a promise without a contract.

And we stayed there, swinging under the stars.

Maybe tomorrow will be just another day.

But tonight?

Tonight, the boy who grew up believing his father was invincible, found a new kind of strength.

And it came not from standing tall…

…but from allowing himself to lean — just a little — on someone who knew when to hold him.


"You know, Ronak," she whispered, half-asleep, "you're the most sensitive guy I know."
I smiled, eyes still on the stars.
“Only because you saw it when no one else did.”

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🌱 A Message for the Reader

If you’ve ever found yourself holding back tears because “boys don’t cry” — this story is for you.

If you’ve ever looked at your father, aging silently, and felt helpless — this story is for you.

If you’ve ever been someone’s Aarti — quietly watching, supporting, and holding space — this story is for you.

Let’s not measure strength in silence alone.
Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do… is feel.