As Arash stood at the threshold of his room, he couldn’t help but smile. The walls of his home—no longer just a house, but now a place of change—felt different. There was an energy in the air, a small but noticeable shift that he couldn’t quite put into words. But it was there, lingering, like the faintest trace of something new on the horizon.
The night before, the conversation with his parents had been a victory. They weren’t completely on board with every radical change he suggested, but they were open. They had seen enough to understand that the world they had built around him was perhaps a little too narrow. Too protective. Too… segregated. And, more importantly, they saw that Arash wasn’t going to let it stay that way. He wasn’t alone anymore in his questioning. His entire school, his community, was slowly starting to wake up to the fact that something had to change.

A Community in Transition
The next morning, as he walked into school, Arash noticed something that hadn’t been there before. The usual buzz of chatter among the boys seemed a bit quieter, but it wasn’t because of a new rule or strict principal. It was different. Less harsh. More open. The boys weren’t just making crude jokes about girls. They weren’t sneering at the idea of treating them as anything more than a distant curiosity. They were talking about… possibilities.
Even more surprising was Kian, who, despite all his bravado, had actually taken Arash’s advice seriously. When the opportunity arose for them to join a group project, he raised his hand—without hesitation—to be paired with some of the girls from class. Arash nearly choked on his lunch when Kian walked over to him afterward and said, “You were right. I didn’t expect them to actually contribute, but they did. They actually know stuff.”
Arash couldn’t contain his grin. “I told you,” he said, nudging Kian. “Maybe they’re not just for looking at.”

Bridges Over Troubled Water
At home, things were shifting too. His mother had started to ask Arash to help out more with things like organizing the grocery list or setting the table, tasks she had always insisted were “for girls.” But with every chore, every moment they spent together in a new, more equal light, she saw the absurdity of the rigid gender roles that had once felt so natural. The first time Arash successfully cooked a meal for the family—without burning anything!—his mother had looked at him with a mixture of pride and astonishment.
“You know,” she said, shaking her head, “maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong.” She paused and smiled. “You’re not half-bad in the kitchen, son.”
“I’m telling you,” Arash replied, holding up the plate triumphantly, “it’s all about breaking the divide.”
She laughed. “I think you’re right.”

The Mixed-Gender Revolution
And then there was the upcoming community event. Arash had been nervous about it for days. It wasn’t just any event—it was the first real test of his idea of “breaking the divide.” It was a gathering of both boys and girls, with families mingling, friends interacting, and everyone pretending to be on their best behavior. The kind of place where the most awkwardness could emerge, but also where connections could be made. And he, Arash, was going to be part of it.
He stood in front of the mirror that morning, fixing his shirt and adjusting his hair—an act that, until now, had felt like something to do only for special occasions. “It’s just a gathering, just a conversation, just people,” he reminded himself, though his reflection in the mirror seemed to offer a skeptical smile.
When he arrived at the event, he found himself seeking out Kian first. They looked like they were going to need each other more than ever.
“This is it, Kian,” Arash said, a little too enthusiastically. “Time to put our theories into practice. I think I’m ready for a real conversation with a girl.”
Kian looked horrified. “Wait, wait. I don’t think I’m ready. I’ve only just learned how to make eye contact without turning into a puddle.”
Arash laughed. “Then I guess we’ll just take it slow.”
But just as they were about to make their approach, the unthinkable happened.
A girl—someone Arash had never seen before—came up to them and said, “Are you two the ones who were talking about breaking the divide?”
Arash froze, his mind suddenly going blank. Kian, equally caught off guard, managed a stammer. “Uh, well, yeah, that was us… but… wait, you heard about it?”
The girl smiled, though it was hard to say whether it was pity or genuine amusement in her eyes. “Yeah, my cousin was at your school, and I overheard you guys talk about it during the field trip. You know, I think it’s a good idea. But maybe don’t make it sound like you’re discovering the wheel, okay?”
Arash blushed, realizing how overzealous he had become.
“Yeah, we kind of got carried away,” Arash said, grinning sheepishly.
The girl nodded. “No worries. But maybe… try starting with something less dramatic than ‘breaking the divide.’ Just be normal for once.”
Kian blinked at her. “Wait, is that advice or a challenge?”
The girl laughed and walked away, leaving Arash and Kian standing there, speechless.

A Final, Comedic Misstep
Later that night, as Arash recounted the day’s events to his parents, he found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. Despite all his preparation, all his attempts to change the world, it still felt like there was a long way to go. And that was okay.
“I think I’m getting better at this whole ‘talking to girls’ thing,” he told his father, his voice full of pride. “But I still have some lessons to learn.”
His father raised an eyebrow. “Lessons like what?”
“Like,” Arash began, pausing dramatically, “maybe don’t try to break the divide so dramatically.”
His father laughed. “It’s a process, son. Just keep trying.”
Arash smiled. And for the first time, he knew it was true: change didn’t happen in one grand, sweeping moment. It was a series of small steps, missteps, and laughs along the way.
As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling once more, Arash realized that perhaps the most important thing was this: breaking the divide wasn’t about completely tearing down the walls between boys and girls. It was about building bridges—one conversation at a time, one laugh at a time.
And, occasionally, one comically awkward misstep at a time.