"Chords Between Us"

8. "Strings of Misunderstanding"

When she pushed the door open, she froze.

Her mother was already there, sitting quietly by the hospital bed, her eyes red and swollen with tears.

Tara's breath caught. Her foot faltered.
And then, slowly, painfully, she stepped closer.

There he was. Her father . The man who had once been her entire world, and then her biggest nightmare. Now reduced to a fragile, dying body, struggling to breathe beneath the oxygen mask.

She hadn't expected to feel this much. But seeing him like this - it broke something inside her.
Her tears came unbidden.

"Mumma..." she whispered hoarsely, unable to tear her eyes away from the sunken figure on the bed.
Nuri looked up at her daughter, her face streaked with silent tears. "It's acute pulmonary edema," she said quietly. "It's... it's bad."

Suddenly, Amir's frail hand lifted in the air, trembling as it reached out toward her.
"Tara..."

His voice was a rasp.
She moved to him slowly, uncertain, cautious. But her heart ached with a strange, cruel pull.
He took her hand in both of his, frail and cold.

He removed his oxygen mask with great effort. His breathing labored.
"I'm sorry..." he croaked, his eyes begging, pleading.
"I've done terrible things... I hurt you... and her... I've carried this guilt every day, Tara. Please... forgive me."

Tara was crying now, fully, her shoulders shaking.
She knelt beside the bed, holding onto his hand as though trying to hold onto time.
"Papa..." she whispered, voice trembling,"I..."
She couldn't finish. Her throat was choked with emotion.

Amir's eyes then turned to Nuri, soft and pleading.
"Can I... can I rest in your lap... just once... before I go?"

Nuri, already crying, hesitated - then, wordlessly, she stood and sat beside him, lifting his head into her lap.
Her hands gently stroked his hair, her tears falling silently onto his forehead.

Amir smiled. A soft, peaceful smile. And then, with a final breath... he was gone.

The monitor went still.
A flatline echoed softly in the room.

Tara let out a broken sob and threw her arms around her mother.

The two of them clung to each other, weeping  not just for the man they lost, but for all the years of pain, anger, and hurt that would now never get closure.
But maybe... in this silence, there was the beginning of healing.
Maybe... in his last breath, something shifted.

Something fragile. Something forgiving.

.

The air was thick with sorrow. The funeral was quiet, solemn, and heavy. Tara stood still, staring blankly at the framed photo of Amir placed beside a garland of white flowers. The man she had hated, feared, and longed to forgive was now gone. Forever.

Anika, Ruhi, and Arnav arrived, their faces etched with concern.
Without a word, Anika and Ruhi pulled Tara into a hug, wrapping her in their arms tightly.
Tara broke down, the dam finally collapsing. She clung to them, her sobs muffled against their shoulders.

Arnav stood beside them, gently patting Tara's back, his presence silent but comforting.

.

Later that night, after everyone had left and the house had fallen into a strained silence, Anika and Ruhi stayed with Tara. The three of them sat on the floor of Tara's room, wrapped in blankets, half empty cups of coffee resting nearby.

Tara stared blankly ahead, her eyes swollen and red.

"I hated him, you know..." she whispered. "I hated him for what he did to Ma. For what he did to me. But seeing him like that... that broken man... it ruined something inside me."

Anika gently rested her head on Tara's shoulder.
"You don't have to forgive everything, babe," she said softly. "But you're allowed to feel all of it. Even the anger. Even the grief."

Ruhi nodded. "No one gets to tell you how to grieve."

Tara didn't reply. She reached into her drawer and pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes.
With trembling fingers, she lit one.

"Tara, no," Anika said quickly, sitting up.
"Not now," Ruhi added, trying to take it from her.
But Tara pulled her hand away. "Please. Just this once. Let me breathe. Even if it's poison."

They watched her silently, her profile hazy in the curling smoke. It wasn't the cigarette that scared them. It was the emptiness in her eyes.

.

After a while, Anika broke the silence.
"I know this isn't the right time but... Tara, you should talk to Taruk."

Tara's jaw clenched.

"He's been calling me all the time, asking about you. He's worried, Tara. He even came to your house the other day. I told him to give you space, but..."

Tara cut her off, her voice low but sharp.
"It's over."

"Why does he even care? There was nothing between us, Anika. There can never be anything. And I was stupid to even think otherwise."

Her words were bitter, like ash.
She stubbed the cigarette out, the red ember dying against the tray.

Anika and Ruhi exchanged a look, worry clouding both their eyes.
They wanted to say more. But for tonight, they let her be.

Sometimes heartbreak came in layers.
And Tara was drowning in all of them at once.