The night was unusually quiet. Arash had spent hours replaying every awkward conversation he’d ever had with a girl in his head, his attempts at making small talk during the field trip looping on an endless loop. Finally, as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he realized something: this wasn’t just about him.
It wasn’t just about the boys in his school or even the occasional encounter with a girl at a family gathering. It was about everything—his family’s expectations, the way society had shaped his views without ever allowing him to question them. It was about the vast chasm of misunderstanding between the genders, one that wasn’t as insurmountable as he had been led to believe.
And he was tired of it.

The Great Confrontation
The next evening, over dinner, Arash decided it was time. His mother served him a plate of khoresh, her hands moving deftly between the kitchen and the table. His father, who had just come in from the garden, sat down with a grunt, rubbing his sore back. Fatemeh and Maryam sat across from him, both of them chattering about their day.
“Baba,” Arash said, setting his fork down, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of nerves in his stomach. “I need to talk to you all about something.”
The conversation at the table halted immediately. His father raised an eyebrow.
“Something serious, son?”
Arash nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about the whole, uh… boys-and-girls thing.”
His mother set down a bowl of yogurt with cucumber, looking at him intently.
“Boys and girls have their place, Arash,” she said gently, clearly expecting the same conversation about tradition, the same reassurances that he understood the “way things were.”
“No, no,” Arash said, lifting a hand. “I don’t mean the usual. I mean… why is it this way? Why don’t we just talk to girls? Or, you know, talk to each other as equals?”
Fatemeh’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about, Arash?”
“I mean—” He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “We never interact with girls properly. At school, we never even speak to them. At family gatherings, we’re not allowed to even sit next to them. We’re taught that everything is separate, that everything is different. But what’s really the harm in just talking to them? Not being awkward or weird, but just… people?”
There was silence. His father shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Arash,” his father said, his tone carefully measured. “It’s not about being awkward. It’s about respect. It’s about knowing your place.”
Arash sat up straighter, leaning forward. “But, Baba, what if being in our ‘place’ all the time just makes us more awkward? What if it’s not respect, but just fear? Fear of the unknown? We don’t know anything about the other side. All we have are these ridiculous ideas—like how girls supposedly all know how to cook or they read romantic novels all day. It’s all nonsense!”
His mother’s face flushed, and she put her hands on the table. “That’s enough, Arash!”
“No, Mom,” Arash said, his voice firmer now. “I mean it. I’ve spent my whole life thinking girls were these creatures that only existed in some distant land, some myth we’re not allowed to visit. But the truth is… they’re just people. They laugh at stupid jokes, they get embarrassed, they don’t have all the answers. They’re just like us.”
There was a long pause. Fatemeh and Maryam looked between Arash and their parents, unsure whether to laugh or intervene.
Then, to his surprise, his father broke the silence.
“You know,” he said, looking at Arash thoughtfully, “I never really thought about it like that.”
Arash blinked. “What?”
His father let out a short laugh, scratching his beard. “Well, I guess it’s not a bad idea to treat girls like actual human beings, rather than some untouchable species. Maybe we’ve been a little too strict.”
Arash’s heart skipped a beat. His mother, still cautious, shook her head but smiled slightly.
“I’m not saying we throw everything out the window,” his father added, “but maybe we can open up a little. Let’s see how it goes.”
Arash couldn’t believe his ears. It was happening.

Small but Meaningful Change
The next day at school, Arash felt a little lighter. As he walked through the gates of his all-boys school, he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, things hadn’t changed completely, but there was something different in the air.
When he walked into class, he decided to make his move. “Hey, Kian,” he said, sitting down at his desk. “How about we try talking to the girls at the next event? No more hiding, no more pretending they’re from another planet. Just… normal, you know?”
Kian looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Arash said, grinning. “We’ve got to start somewhere.”
Kian hesitated, then shrugged. “Okay, fine. But if they ask about our ‘secret club’ again, I’m blaming you.”

The Beginning of Something New
At home that evening, Arash sat at the dinner table with a quiet sense of pride. It wasn’t much yet, but there were cracks in the walls—small, subtle cracks that might one day lead to something more.
He looked at his parents. They were still traditional, still cautious, but they had taken the first step toward something new. And that was enough for now.
“I’m glad we had this talk,” his mother said, her voice soft but sincere. “Maybe it’s time we rethink some things.”
Arash smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
His father, looking more relaxed than ever, nodded. “You’re right. Let’s see what happens.”
For the first time in a long while, Arash felt like the curtain had finally fallen—revealing not a different world, but one that was just as full of possibilities as the one he already knew.