Tristan, a twelve-year-old boy with tousled brown hair, curls into a ball, clutching his favorite stuffed bear. He blinks away tears, noticing the familiar dampness beneath him—a secret shame he can never seem to escape. The silence of the night is broken only by his gentle sighs and the faint rustle of sheets. In the stillness, he slips his thumb into his mouth, seeking comfort as the weight of his embarrassment grows heavier.
Mrs. Carter, Tristan’s mother, enters with a tired expression, her patience clearly worn thin. She glances at the bed, sighing deeply. "Tristan, not again. We talked about this. You’re too old for this," she says, voice tinged with frustration. Tristan turns away, his cheeks burning with shame, as his father lingers in the hallway, arms folded, frowning.
Mrs. Carter cleans up Tristan in silence, her motions brisk. Mr. Carter, tall and stern, stands nearby, reminding Tristan of the rules. "Maybe this will help you remember, Tristan," he says, producing a diaper with a resigned sigh. Tristan bites his lip, humiliation prickling at his eyes as he submits to the routine, wishing he could disappear.
Tristan[/@ch_1] with sly grins.]
Dylan, a classmate with a mischievous glint, nudges his friends. "Hey, there’s baby Tristan! Careful, he might need a nap soon," he jokes, prompting a chorus of snickers. Tristan tries to ignore them, but his face reddens, and he ducks his head, shoulders hunched. Their words sting like cold rain, and he desperately wishes for the ground to swallow him up.
Tristan scribbles in his journal, pouring out feelings he can’t share with anyone else. His eyes sting as he writes about his longing to fit in, to be “normal” like the other kids. The walls of the library, lined with stories of heroes and adventurers, seem to offer silent comfort. For a moment, Tristan dreams of a day when his struggles will be just another chapter in his story—one he’s finally overcome.
Tristan[/@ch_1] sits on the porch steps, his parents beside him, the air calm and cool.]
Mrs. Carter reaches over and squeezes Tristan’s hand gently. "We know it’s hard, honey. We’re here for you, always," she says softly, her voice full of warmth. Mr. Carter nods, offering a rare, reassuring smile. As dusk settles, Tristan feels a fragile hope take root—maybe, with time and understanding, he’ll find his way through.
