"Chords Between Us"

8. "Strings of Misunderstanding"

"Where is she?!" Taruk's voice rose in panic.

"She left. She didn't say a word."

Taruk's heart sank. He ran out the gate, calling her name, dialing her number. It rang. No answer.

He stood under the fest lights, the echo of music and laughter now distant behind him. The girl he didn't even realize he was falling for... was gone.

And all he could do was whisper, breathless, "Tara..."

.

Tara sped through the empty roads, the wind slicing against her skin.

Her mind was a storm, her chest tight with emotions she didn't even want to name.

"How did I even think Taruk and I could have a thing? Of course, it's Riva. How could I be so stupid?"

Her vision blurred, a mix of streetlights and the burning sting of tears. She gritted her teeth, trying to shake it off, but the ache in her chest only deepened.

Then- a sharp turn, a slip of the tires, and before she could react she was on the ground.

The impact sent a sharp pain through her body. She groaned, her palms scraping against the rough asphalt, her knee throbbing.

"Shit," she muttered, more out of anger than pain.

She sat up slowly, wincing as she touched her elbow. It was scraped, blood trickling slightly, but nothing too serious. Her bike had toppled over beside her.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket-again and again.

With a deep breath, she pulled it out. 15 missed calls.

Her heart skipped. It was her mother.

Panic surged through her as she immediately hit the call button. The moment it connected, Nuri's voice came through, frantic.

"Tara! Thank God! Where the hell are you?!"

"Mom-what happened?" Tara asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"It's your father. I'm sending you my live location. Please come here. Now."

Her breath hitched. Her father.

The very name sent a chill down her spine.

For a moment, she didn't move. Memories came crashing down, a flood of anger, fear, and something else something she hated to admit.

Flashbacks hit her like a wrecking ball.
Her father's drunken rage.
The shattering of glass against the walls.
Her mother's muffled sobs.
Her own childhood self, curled up in a corner, hands pressed against her ears, wishing the nightmare away.

He had ruined their lives. He had ruined her.

And yet... deep down, she still wanted to see him.

Swallowing hard, she clenched her fists, pushed herself up despite the pain, picked up her bike, and headed toward the location.

Tara ran through the hospital corridors, her heart thundering in her chest, her knees still scraped, and the scent of mud still clinging to her clothes.

She stumbled to the reception counter, chest heaving.
"Amir Agarwal..." she breathed. Her voice cracked - it was the first time in years she had said his name aloud.

The receptionist looked up sympathetically and gave her the room number.
Room 207.

Tara didn't walk. She ran.
Down the corridor, past the sterile walls and fluorescent lights, toward a chapter of her life she had tried to bury.