His parents had the kind of relationship that made their friends roll their eyes with envy. Vansh had seen this his whole life. Children noticed things. His parents were always gentle with each other. Much more so than any other couple he’d ever seen. But that day, Vansh remembered his mother stepping into his father’s space, not a hint of gentleness in her. He is not like the others. You can’t have the same expectations for him as you do for the others. But if I ever hear you call one of my children that ugly word again, I will walk out of this house with all four of them and never look back.

There had been no raised voices. His father had responded only with the softest, Sorry.

After that there had been endless special ed teachers, therapists, experts. Whatever form of dyslexia Vansh had, it had taught him one thing early on: the only cure was to not read. Through school, he had access to all materials on audio and visual aids. He always took all tests separately from other students. Every teacher was unerringly kind. Every principal, who always knew him by name, made sure of it.

At home the pressure on his older siblings to excel was brutal. The quiet silence in that space when it came to Vansh was palpable. The Raje children were universally acknowledged as gifted learners. So, strife over academic pressure was rare, but every once in a while there would be tears over grades, fights over how unfair this or that teacher was. None of these meltdowns ever happened with Vansh in the room.

He only overheard them because like all youngest siblings he was adept at the art of eavesdropping. Without exception, everyone in his family was only ever complimentary about his schoolwork. About everything he ever did, really.

The truth was that he could never explain quite how much work it took to process something everyone else took for granted, to memorize and work around words. To hide. Consequently the need to have anyone understand that part of him had died a long time ago.

In eleventh grade he had chosen to go to a boarding school all the way in Northern India that promised alternative learning. There were no tests there, and he’d been surrounded by artists and musicians. He’d learned that the pursuit of success was a hamster wheel he could choose not to get on.