"You're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me, don't come back at all"
~ Monster – Paramore
~Sunday morning~
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the guest room windows and the sound of voices in the kitchen.
For a moment, I just lay there, processing everything from yesterday. I'd told Aadyant everything. My past. My trauma. My suicide attempt. All the things I'd kept buried for three years.
And he'd stayed.
Not just stayed—he'd held me. Told me I wasn't broken. Told me he loved me.
My chest felt lighter than it had in years. But also terrified. Because now someone knew. Really knew. And that meant he could hurt me in ways no one else could.
I checked my phone. 9:47 AM. Seventeen missed calls from Bua. Three from unknown numbers (probably my mother). And a text from Aadyant from an hour ago:
Aadyant: Good morning. No rush getting up. Take your time. We're making breakfast when you're ready.
I smiled despite myself. Even in text, he was careful. Patient. Giving me space while making sure I knew he was there.
I should go home. Should stop imposing. They'd let me stay here all weekend and I'd done nothing but be a burden—
I stopped that thought. Dr. Patel's voice in my head: Notice the negative self-talk. Question it. Is it true or is it your trauma speaking?
My trauma speaking. Definitely my trauma.
I got up, washed my face, tried to make myself look less like someone who'd cried herself to sleep.
Failed spectacularly.
~
"She's awake," Aadya said, glancing toward the hallway. "I can hear the water running."
"How do you think she's feeling?"
"Probably overwhelmed. Definitely exhausted. Maybe relieved?" Aadya flipped a pancake. "You told her you love her. She told you everything. That's huge."
"I know."
"And you're sure you're okay? With everything she told you?"
I looked at my sister. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because it's heavy, Aadyant. What she went through—what her parents did to her—that's a lot to process."
"It is. But it doesn't change how I feel about her. If anything—" I stopped, struggling for words. "It makes me love her more. Knowing what she's survived. What she's still fighting through every day."
"You're going to tell her that, right? Because she's probably convinced you're going to wake up this morning and realize she's too much work."
"She's not work—"
"I know that. You know that. She doesn't know that." Aadya pointed the spatula at me. "So when she comes out here, probably apologizing for existing, you need to shut that down. Gently. But firmly."
"When did you become so wise?"
"I've always been wise. You just never noticed."
Kashvi appeared in the doorway, and my heart did that stupid thing it always did when I saw her.
"Morning," she said softly. "I'm sorry I slept so late. I should have been up to help—"
"Kashvi." I set down the spatula and walked over to her. "You don't need to apologize for sleeping. Or for being here. Or for anything."
"I know, but you've both been taking care of me all weekend and I'm just—I'm sorry for being so much trouble—"
Aadya made a buzzer sound. "Wrong answer. That's one ranch-on-pizza point."
Kashvi looked confused. "What?"
"New rule," I explained. "Every time you apologize for something that doesn't need an apology, you have to eat something disgusting. We're keeping score."
"That's ridiculous."
"Then stop apologizing." Aadya grinned. "Sit. Eat. We made pancakes and you need breakfast."
~
Breakfast was surprisingly normal.
The twins bickered about whether chocolate chips belonged in pancakes (Aadya: yes, Aadyant: absolutely not). They told stories about growing up in the palace in Jodhpur. They made me laugh despite the heaviness in my chest.
"So wait," I said, trying to picture it. "You had an actual throne room?"
"Still do," Aadyant confirmed. "It's mostly for formal occasions now. But yeah, growing up, we'd have these state dinners where we had to sit perfectly still for hours."
"Ivaan once fell asleep during one," Aadya added, laughing. "Just face-planted right into his plate. He was like twelve. Mom was mortified."
"How old is Ivaan now?"
"Sixteen. He's still a disaster, but we love him."
It felt surreal, hearing about their lives. A real palace. Siblings. Parents who showed up for state dinners and worried about propriety.
Everything my family wasn't.
My phone buzzed. Bua again.
"I should call her back," I said. "She's probably worried."
"Do you want privacy?"
"No, it's okay." I answered. "Hi, Bua."
"Kashvi, beta, are you alright? You've been gone all weekend—"
"I'm fine. I'm at Aadyant and Aadya's place. I should have called sooner. I'm sorry—"
Aadyant held up a finger and mouthed: "Ranch pizza."
I rolled my eyes at him. "I mean, I should have called sooner to let you know where I was."
"It's okay, beta. I figured you were with them. Your mother..." She paused. "She wants to see you. She's still in town. Still asking to talk."
My stomach dropped. "I don't know if I can face her again."
"I'm not pushing. I'm just letting you know. She's willing to wait. To meet whenever you're ready."
"Okay. I'll... I'll think about it."
After I hung up, Aadyant was watching me carefully. "Your mom?"
"She wants to meet. To talk. Bua says she's willing to wait until I'm ready." I laughed bitterly. "Like she waited three years for me to heal?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. Part of me wants to tell her to go back to India and never contact me again. But another part..." I trailed off.
"Another part wants closure," Aadya finished gently. "Wants to say everything you didn't get to say the first time."
"Yeah."
"Then maybe you should meet her," Aadyant said. "Not for her. For you. So you can say what you need to say and move forward."
"Will you come with me? If I do it?"
"Of course. Whenever you're ready."
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready."
"That's okay too. There's no timeline here, Kashvi. You get to decide."
~
~Later that day~
We spent the afternoon just existing. Kashvi seemed lighter after breakfast, less burdened. We watched movies, ordered lunch, did nothing particularly important.
But around 3 PM, Kashvi got quiet again.
"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing her staring at her phone.
"I think I want to see her. My mom. Today. Before I lose my nerve."
"Today?"
"Is that crazy? It probably is. I'm sorry, you probably have things to do—"
"Kashvi. Stop. If you want to see her today, we'll make it happen. Let me just text the group that we can't make it to dinner."
"What dinner?"
"We were supposed to have group dinner tonight. But this is more important."
"No, don't cancel because of me—"
"It's not 'because of you.' It's a choice I'm making to support you." I took her hands. "The group will understand. This is important."
She called Bua back. Made arrangements for 5 PM at the same café. Neutral ground.
"I need to go home first," Kashvi said. "Change. Prepare. I can't do this in yesterday's clothes."
"I'll drive you."
"You don't have to—"
I gave her a look.
"Right. Ranch pizza. You want to drive me."
"Exactly."
~
Being home felt strange after the weekend at the penthouse.
Bua was there, and the second she saw me, she pulled me into a hug.
"How are you, beta?"
"I'm okay. Better than Friday night."
"Aadyant has been taking care of you?"
"Yeah. He and Aadya both." I paused. "Bua, I told him. About what happened. About everything."
Her eyes widened. "Everything?"
"Everything."
"And he...?"
"He stayed. He didn't run. He didn't look at me like I was broken." My voice cracked. "He told me he loves me."
"Oh, beta." She hugged me again. "I'm so glad. You deserve that. You deserve someone who sees all of you and stays."
Aadyant was waiting in the living room, and Bua insisted he stay for chai before we left for the café.
"So," she said, settling into the chair across from him. "You're the young man who's been looking after my niece."
"I try my best, ma'am."
"Kritika. Please, call me Kritika Aunty." She studied him. "Kashvi says you're from Jodhpur?"
"Yes, ma'am—Aunty. My family is there."
"And you came here for studies?"
"Business degree. Following in my father's footsteps."
"Your father is...?"
"Aadhir Rathore. The current Maharaja."
Bua's eyebrows rose slightly. "I see. And yet you're here, in my living room, drinking tea like any normal boy."
"Because I am a normal boy. The title is just... complicated family history."
"He's downplaying," I said, coming back into the room in fresh clothes. "His family is kind of a big deal."
"And yet he seems very normal to me." Bua smiled. "Which is good. Kashvi doesn't need complicated. She needs steady."
"That's my plan. Steady, patient, and consistently showing up."
"Good." She stood. "Now, you two should go. Shivangi—Kashvi's mother—is probably already at the café. She's always early."
"Bua—" I hesitated. "What if this goes badly?"
"Then you'll deal with it. Together." She looked at Aadyant. "You'll take care of her?"
"Always."
~
The drive to the café was quiet. Kashvi was nervous—leg bouncing, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt.
"We can turn around," I said for the third time. "You don't have to do this."
"I know. But I want to. I need to." She took a deep breath. "I need to say everything I didn't get to say on Friday. When I was too emotional to be coherent."
"What do you want to say?"
"Everything. How much they hurt me. How alone I felt. How their rejection made everything worse." She paused. "But also... I want to know why. Why they did what they did. Why they chose their reputation over me."
"What if the answer isn't good enough?"
"Then at least I'll know. At least I'll have closure."
We pulled into the café parking lot. Kashvi sat for a moment, gathering courage.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For coming. For being here. I'm sor—" She stopped herself. "I mean, I'm grateful. Really grateful."
"Better." I smiled. "Ready?"
"No. But let's do it anyway."
~
My mother was already there, sitting at the same corner table. She stood when she saw us, her eyes red like she'd been crying.
"Kashvi, beta—"
"Don't call me that." I sat down across from her. Aadyant took the seat next to me, close enough that I could feel his warmth. "You lost the right to use terms of endearment three years ago."
"Kashvi, please. I just want to talk."
"So talk. You wanted this meeting. Say what you came to say."
She looked at Aadyant, clearly uncomfortable with his presence.
"He's staying," I said firmly. "If you want to talk to me, he stays."
"Who is he?"
"Someone who actually cares about me. Someone who showed up when you didn't." I kept my voice level. "Now. Talk."
~
SHIVANGI SINGH'S POV
My daughter looked so different. Older. Harder. The soft girl I remembered had been replaced by someone guarded and wary.
And the boy next to her—protective, watching me with barely concealed dislike.
"I'm sorry," I started. "Your father and I—we made terrible mistakes. We see that now. After you left, we went to counseling—"
"After I left?" Kashvi's voice was cold. "You went to counseling after I left? So you could deal with your guilt?"
"No, beta—"
"Stop calling me that!" Her voice rose, then dropped. "You don't get to call me that. You lost that right."
"I know. I know we failed you—"
"Failed me? That's one way to put it." Kashvi laughed bitterly. "Another way would be: you abandoned your traumatized fourteen-year-old daughter because you cared more about what people would think than about her healing."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" Kashvi's hands were shaking. I could see the boy next to her notice, could see him move slightly closer. "You want to talk about fair? I was attacked. Hurt. Nearly—" She stopped, took a breath. "And instead of helping me, you made me feel like it was my fault. Like I was something shameful."
"We were trying to protect you—"
"From what? From healing? From having parents who actually supported me?" Kashvi's voice broke. "I needed you. I needed my mother. And you sent me away."
"We thought it was best—"
"Best for who? For you?" Kashvi was crying now. "Because it certainly wasn't best for me."
~
The words were pouring out now, three years of pain and rage.
"Do you know what the first year here was like? I couldn't sleep without nightmares. Couldn't go outside without panic attacks. Couldn't look at myself without seeing someone worthless. And you weren't there. You didn't call. You didn't visit. You didn't even ask Bua how I was doing!"
"We were trying to give you space—"
"I didn't need space! I needed my parents!" I was sobbing now. "I was fourteen years old and dealing with trauma and you just—you just erased me from your lives like I never existed!"
"That's not true—"
"Yes, it is!" I pulled up my sleeve before I could think better of it, showing the faint scars on my wrist from three years ago. "You see these? I tried to kill myself. Eight months after you sent me away. Because I couldn't bear living with the shame you made me feel. And you know what? You never even knew. Because you never bothered to check on me!"
My mother had gone white. "Kashvi—"
"Bua found me. Bua rushed me to the hospital. Bua held me while I cried in the psychiatric ward. Where were you? Oh right—in Delhi, protecting your reputation."
"We didn't know—Kritika never told us it was that serious—"
"Because I begged her not to!" I was shaking. "Because even after everything, I didn't want to be a burden to you! And that's fucked up! That's so fucked up that I felt like my suicide attempt would inconvenience my parents!"
Aadyant's hand found mine under the table. Squeezed gently. Grounding me.
"I'm sorry," my mother whispered. "I'm so sorry, beta—"
"Don't. Don't call me that. You don't get to apologize and expect everything to be fine." I wiped at my tears. "You want to know why I can finally say this? Why I can finally tell you how much you hurt me?"
"Why?"
I looked at Aadyant. "Because I finally found people who love me without conditions. Who show up even when it's hard. Who make me feel like I'm worth the effort." I turned back to my mother. "Everything you weren't."
"Kashvi, please—"
"No. I'm done. I said what I needed to say." I stood up, and Aadyant stood with me. "You can go back to India now. Tell Papa I said hello. Tell him—" My voice broke. "Tell him his daughter is alive and healing and has everything she needs. None of which came from either of you."
"Wait—" She reached for me.
I stepped back. "Don't touch me."
"I love you—"
"If you loved me, you would have been there. But you weren't. So whatever you think you feel now? It's three years too late."
I turned and walked out, Aadyant right beside me.
~
We made it to the car before Kashvi collapsed.
Not crying this time. Just... depleted. Empty.
"I said it," she whispered. "I said everything."
"You did. I'm so proud of you."
"I showed her the scars. I wasn't planning to. But I just—I needed her to see. To understand what she did to me."
"I know."
"Am I a terrible person? For saying those things to my mother?"
"No. You're someone who finally stood up for herself. Who refused to minimize her pain to make someone else comfortable." I turned in my seat to face her. "You were incredible in there."
"I don't feel incredible. I feel empty."
"That's normal. You just released three years of pain. Give yourself time to process."
She leaned her head back against the seat. "Can we not go back to your place? Or mine? Can we just... drive somewhere?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't care. Anywhere. I just need to not be still right now."
So I drove.
No destination. Just away from the café, from her mother, from everything heavy.
We ended up at a lookout point overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting, painting everything gold and pink.
"This is nice," Kashvi said softly.
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a while, watching the waves crash below.
"Aadyant?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For being there. For not trying to fix it or make it better. For just... being there."
"Always."
"I need you to know something." She turned to face me. "What I said in there. About finding people who love me without conditions. I wasn't just talking about the group."
My heart started pounding.
"I was talking about you. Specifically." She took a shaky breath. "You've shown me what love is supposed to look like. What it means to be cared for. And I—" She stopped, struggling.
"You don't have to say anything you're not ready to say."
"No, I do. I need to." She looked me in the eyes. "I'm not ready to say it all yet. But I need you to know—you're important to me. More important than anyone has been in a very long time. And that terrifies me but also—" She smiled through tears. "Also makes me feel less alone than I've felt in three years."
"Kashvi—"
"I'm getting there. To where you are. I promise I'm getting there."
I pulled her into a hug. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. And that's what makes this possible. You being patient. You staying."
We sat there as the sun set, wrapped up in each other, and I felt something shift between us.
She wasn't ready to say it yet. But she was getting closer.
And I would wait as long as it took.
~
FOLLOW ME!! 😄
VOTE and COMMENT....
Write a comment ...