"I'm standing on the edge of something I don't understand
And I don't know if I'm ready to fall"
~ Gravity – Sara Bareilles
~One Week Later~
They wouldn't stop calling.
Every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. Different numbers. Always the Indian country code.
I'd blocked twelve numbers so far.
And then the emails started.
From: kartik.singh@email.com
Subject: Please read this
Kashvi,
I know you're angry. I know you feel we failed you. But please, beta, give us a chance to explain. To make things right. Your mother and I have been going to counselling. We understand now that we handled things wrong. That we hurt you when you needed us most.
Please call us. Please come home, even just to visit. We can work through this as a family.
- Papa
I deleted it without reading past the first paragraph.
Another email, this time from my mother:
From: shivangi.singh@email.com
Subject: I'm sorry
Kashvi beta,
I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know what we did was unforgivable. But I need you to know—we never stopped loving you. We just didn't know how to help. How to fix what happened.
Please give us another chance. We're your parents. We love you.
Deleted.
But the words lingered. Wormed their way into my head.
We love you.
Did they? Had they ever? Or did they just love the version of me that existed before—the daughter who didn't come with trauma and complications?
~
Kashvi was pulling away again.
Not dramatically. Not obviously. But I could feel it—the distance creeping back in. She was quieter at coffee mornings. Less engaged during group hangouts. She'd started making excuses about being busy with class work.
And she hadn't worn my hoodie in three days.
"She's dealing with something," Aadya said when I mentioned it. "Give her space but don't disappear."
"What if space is the last thing she needs?"
"Then she'll tell you."
But Kashvi wasn't good at asking for help. She was good at suffering in silence until she broke.
I texted her:
Aadyant: Hey. Haven't seen you much this week. Everything okay?
Me: Yeah, just busy with assignments.
Aadyant: Want help? Or company while you work?
Me: I'm okay. But thanks.
The dismissal stung more than it should have.
Aadyant: Kashvi, I can tell something's wrong. You don't have to tell me what, but please don't shut me out.
She didn't respond for three hours. Then:
Me: I just need to figure some things out. I'm sorry.
~
~Friday Evening~
I was staring at my laptop; at the unsent email I'd been writing for two hours.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I don't know how to do this. Don't know how to respond to your emails and calls. Because part of me wants to believe you've changed. Wants to believe you actually care. But another part of me remembers how you looked at me after. How you made me feel like I was something shameful to hide.
I was fourteen. I was hurt and traumatized and I needed my parents. And instead, you sent me away. Made me feel like it was somehow my fault. Like I was the problem that needed to be solved.
Do you have any idea what that did to me? How alone I felt? How broken?
I tried to kill myself. Did you know that? Eight months after you sent me to the US. I took a bottle of pills and slit my wrist because I couldn't bear the weight of existing anymore. Bua found me in time, and I spent three days in the hospital.
Did you even ask Bua how I was doing? Or were you just relieved I was someone else's problem?
My vision blurred with tears. I couldn't send this. Couldn't open this door.
But I also couldn't keep pretending everything was fine.
My phone rang. Bua.
"Beta, can you come downstairs? There's someone here to see you."
"I'm not really up for visitors—"
"Kashvi. Come downstairs. Please."
Something in her tone made me listen.
I went downstairs, expecting maybe one of the group had stopped by.
Instead, there was a woman sitting in our living room. Indian. Well-dressed. Familiar in a way that made my stomach drop.
My mother.
~
"What are you doing here?" Kashvi's voice came out cold.
Shivangi Singh stood up, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of her daughter. "Kashvi, beta—"
"Don't call me that." Kashvi looked at her aunt. "You let her in? You didn't think to warn me?"
"She flew all the way from India," Kritika said gently. "I thought you should at least hear her out."
"I don't want to hear her out. I want her to leave."
"Kashvi, please—" Her mother stepped forward, and Kashvi immediately stepped back.
"Don't. Don't come near me."
"Beta, I know you're angry—"
"Angry? I'm not angry. I'm—" Kashvi's voice broke. "I'm destroyed. Do you understand? You destroyed me. You and Papa both."
"We were wrong. We know that now. We went to therapy, we—"
"You went to therapy? Great. Good for you. Does that fix the three years I spent thinking I was worthless? Does that fix the fact that I tried to kill myself because I couldn't live with the shame you made me feel?"
Shivangi's face went white. "What?"
"Oh, Bua didn't tell you? About how your daughter—the one you sent away because she was too damaged to deal with—took an entire bottle of anti-anxiety medication because death seemed preferable to living as someone you were ashamed of?"
"Kashvi, I never—we were never ashamed of you—"
"Liar!" The word came out as a scream. "You looked at me like I was dirty! Like what happened was my fault! You cared more about what people would think than about what I needed!"
"We were trying to protect you—"
"From what? From healing? From having parents who actually gave a shit about me?" Kashvi was crying now, angry tears streaming down her face. "I was fourteen! I was hurt and scared and I needed you! And you sent me away like I was some problem you could just ship off and forget about!"
"We thought it was best—"
"Best for who? For you? Because it certainly wasn't best for me!" Kashvi laughed bitterly. "Do you know what the first year here was like? I couldn't sleep without nightmares. Couldn't leave the house without panic attacks. Couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing someone worthless."
"Beta, please—"
"Stop calling me that! You don't get to call me that! You don't get to show up three years later and pretend you're my mother! You stopped being my mother the day you chose your reputation over your daughter!"
~
I couldn't be here. Couldn't look at her. Couldn't do this.
I ran upstairs, grabbed my keys and helmet, and was out the door before anyone could stop me.
I heard Bua calling after me. Heard my mother's voice, broken and pleading.
I didn't care.
I got on my bike and rode. No destination. Just away.
The panic was building—chest tight, vision blurring, hands shaking on the handlebars.
I pulled over at a park I didn't recognize. Stumbled off my bike. Collapsed on a bench.
And broke.
Sobs tore through me. Three years of pain and rage and grief pouring out all at once.
My phone was ringing. I ignored it. Multiple calls. Text after text.
Finally, I looked.
Twenty-three texts. Mostly from Bua. A few from unknown numbers (probably my mother). And one from Aadyant:
Aadyant: Your aunt just called me. Where are you? Please tell me where you are. I'm worried.
Aadyant: Kashvi, please. You don't have to talk to me. Just let me know you're safe.
Aadyant: I'm in my car. Give me a location. I'll come get you.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely type.
Me: I don't know where I am. Some park. I can't breathe. I can't—
My phone rang immediately.
"Kashvi, listen to me. You're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe with me, okay?"
His voice. Calm. Steady. Safe.
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can. In through your nose for four counts. Can you do that?"
I tried. Failed.
"That's okay. Try again. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Slowly, following his voice, my breathing started to even out.
"Good. That's so good. Keep breathing. Can you tell me what you see around you?"
"Trees. A playground. A parking lot."
"Okay. Send me your location from your phone. I'm coming to get you."
"You don't have to—"
"Kashvi." His voice was firm but gentle. "I love you. I'm coming. Send me your location."
I did.
~
I broke every speed limit getting to her.
She was on a bench, knees pulled to her chest, looking so small and broken it physically hurt to see.
"Hey," I said softly, approaching slowly so I wouldn't startle her.
She looked up, and her face crumpled. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know who else to call—"
"Don't apologize. I'm glad you called me." I sat down next to her, not touching, just present. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"My mother showed up. At my house. She flew from India." Kashvi's voice was hollow. "And I just—I couldn't—"
"It's okay. You don't have to explain."
"She wanted to talk. To apologize. But it's been three years, Aadyant. Three years of silence and then she just shows up expecting—" She stopped, struggling.
"Expecting you to be okay?"
"Expecting me to forgive her. To come home. Like nothing happened. Like they didn't—" She broke off, sobbing.
I couldn't help it. I pulled her into my arms, and she collapsed against me, crying so hard her whole body shook.
"I've got you," I murmured. "Let it out. I've got you."
We sat there for a long time. Her crying. Me holding her. The park empty around us.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were swollen, her face blotchy.
"I'm a mess."
"You're human. There's a difference."
She laughed wetly. "I don't think I can go home. Not with her there."
"Then come to my place. Stay as long as you need."
"Aadyant—"
"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. You're not going to be alone tonight. Pack a bag or don't. Either way, you're coming with me."
~
Aadyant called Bua to let her know I was safe and staying with them for the night. I could hear her relief through the phone.
Then he called Aadya, giving her a quick rundown so she wouldn't be surprised when we showed up.
The drive to their penthouse was quiet. He kept one hand on my knee, grounding me. Reminding me I wasn't alone.
When we got there, Aadya took one look at me and just hugged me. No questions. No judgment. Just comfort.
"Guest room is ready," she said. "Extra blankets if you need them. Bathroom has everything. If you need anything—anything—we're here."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Aadyant walked me to the guest room. "Try to get some rest. I'll be right next door if you need me."
"Aadyant?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you—" I stopped, embarrassed. "Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?"
"Of course."
We lay on top of the covers, me curled on my side, him next to me. Not touching, just there.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For coming. For not making me go home. For—for everything."
"Always, Kashvi. Always."
I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, and for the first time in days, the nightmares stayed away.
~
FOLLOW ME!! 😄
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