Chapter 27

After a few moments, she sat beside me, her hand moving to cover mine. Her touch was warm and steady, a reminder that she was here, with me, and not somewhere far away.

"What happened, Veer?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern. "Why did you do that? You could have been seriously hurt."

I hesitated, my gaze fixed on our intertwined hands. Her small fingers rested gently on mine, a stark contrast to the roughness of my knuckles.

"I was scared," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly.

"Scared of what?" she asked, tilting her head to meet my eyes.

"Of losing you," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I know Siya met you, and I know she must've said things about me—things that weren't good. I thought maybe... maybe you'd believe her. That you'd think I wasn't worth it."

Her expression softened, her eyes filling with something that looked like both sadness and understanding.

"And when you didn't come home," I continued, my voice cracking, "I was afraid. Afraid that you were thinking about leaving, and I couldn't... I couldn't bear to hear it."

Tara's hands tightened around mine, her grip firm but comforting. "Yes, Siya said things," she admitted, her voice steady. "But I was angry at her, not at you. I was angry because what she said was so wrong, Veer."

She turned toward me, her gaze unwavering. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere. You're my home, Veer. My constant, my rock. The support I didn't know I needed but can't imagine living without now."

Her words hit me with a force I wasn't prepared for, my chest tightening as I tried to process them.

"I don't deserve you," I said quietly, shaking my head. "You're so understanding, so... good. And me? I'm insecure and broken. I'm a mess, Tara."

She placed her hand on my cheek, guiding my gaze back to hers. "Whatever you are, you're mine," she said firmly. "It doesn't matter if you're insecure—I'm here to remind you every single day how wonderful you are. It doesn't matter if you're broken, Veer. Your broken pieces are mine to collect and mend now."

Her voice softened, her thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "I'm here to hold you, Veer. Gently when you need it, and firmly when you need that too. Whatever you need, I'm here."

Her words shattered something inside me, but in the best possible way. The walls I had spent years building around myself crumbled under the weight of her love and understanding.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly as if she were the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.

"Tara," I whispered, my voice hoarse, "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

She rested her head against my chest, her arms wrapping around me in return. "You don't have to do anything to deserve love, Veer," she said softly. "You just have to let yourself feel it."

In that moment, I realized how much Tara had changed my life. She had brought light into my darkness, warmth into my coldness, and hope into my despair.

And for the first time, I believed, I could let myself be happy. Because with Tara by my side, anything felt possible.

When Tara stood up to get food, I couldn't stop myself. The thought of her walking away, even for a moment, sent a sharp pang through me.

"Don't leave," I said, my voice more desperate than I intended. "Stay here. Please."

She paused mid-step, turning to look at me. Her expression softened, and she gave me a small nod before stepping closer. "Okay," she said gently, taking her seat beside me again.

We called for dinner to be brought to the room, and when the food arrived, Tara insisted on feeding me with her hands.

"You don't have to do this," I said softly, my gaze fixed on her as she scooped up a bite of dal and roti.

"I want to," she replied simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I let her, savoring not just the food but the quiet care in her every action.

After dinner, Tara stood and gestured for me to sit on the floor by the bed. "Sit down," she said firmly, holding a small bottle of oil in her hand.

I hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, curious but also strangely comforted by the sense of routine in her care.

She poured a little oil into her palms, warming it before her fingers began working gently through my hair. The tension I hadn't realized I was holding in my scalp and neck started to ease under her touch.

"Tell me what's on your mind," she said softly, her voice soothing.

I closed my eyes, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "When my parents died, I shut everyone out. I had to. Early on, I realized that people only wanted to be close to me for their benefit. The money, the connections—that's all they saw."

Her hands stilled for a moment before resuming their gentle rhythm.

"Sometimes, I'd overhear people whispering," I continued, my voice tightening. "They'd say things like, 'At least he has money left. So what if his parents died?'"

The memory burned, even after all these years. "It made me angry, Tara. So angry. I didn't want to rely on anyone, and I didn't want anyone to rely on me. So, I built walls. I told myself that if I didn't let anyone in, they couldn't hurt me."

Her fingers paused again, and she sighed softly. "I get it," she said after a moment. "When my parents died, I struggled with emotions for years. I was a troubled child, Veer. Angry, confused, and desperate for someone to listen. But I had no one to vent to, no one who could help me make sense of it all."

Her voice broke slightly, and I turned to face her, gently taking her hands in mine.

"Tara," I said quietly, "stop. Come here."

She looked at me, confused, but I tugged her gently until she was sitting on my lap, her back resting against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore," I whispered, pressing my cheek against her temple. "You've given me so much, allowed me to feel things I thought I was incapable of. And yet, I've done nothing for you in return."

She shook her head, leaning into me. "You're wrong, Veer. You've done everything for me."

I frowned slightly, unsure of what she meant. "Tara, I—"

"You're enough," she said firmly, turning slightly so she could look at me. "More than enough, in your own way. Do you know what I need from you? I need you to listen to my silly stories. To hold me when I talk about my past and my pain. To show me care and love in your quiet, reserved way that makes me feel special."

Her hand reached up, brushing against my cheek. "You don't have to be anything more than who you are, Veer. That's all I need. That's all I want."

Her words settled over me, soothing the storm inside my chest.

She exhaled deeply, her voice turning reflective. "Everyone has monsters from their past. But when you trust someone, you don't trust them because they're perfect or good. You trust them because your monsters have found a home in them. You know they won't try to change you or force you to leave your past behind."

She paused, her gaze softening. "Instead, they'll show you, through their actions, that your past doesn't matter. That you are good and wonderful just as you are. Slowly, steadily, they'll help you move forward."

She rested her head against my chest, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You are that home for my monsters, Veer. You make me feel safe enough to let go."

Her words overwhelmed me, cutting through the walls I had spent years building. My arms tightened around her, and for the first time in years, I felt tears spill down my cheeks.

Tara shifted slightly, her arms wrapping around me in return. I felt her shoulders shake, her own emotions spilling over as we held each other.

In that moment, the weight of our pasts didn't feel as heavy. For the first time, I felt like I wasn't alone in carrying it.

As the tears slowed, I pulled back slightly, my hands cupping her face. "You know," I said softly, "for the longest time, I thought I needed to find a light to chase away my darkness. Everyone wants that, don't they? To be saved by some perfect, bright thing that makes everything better."

Tara tilted her head, her gaze steady.

"But then you came," I continued, my voice thick with emotion. "And I realized I didn't need to find the light anymore. You are the light, Tara. The one I've been searching for my whole life. And now that I've found you, even when the darkness of my past surrounds me, I'm not afraid. Because I know you'll hold my hand through it all."

She reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Always," she said simply.

I pressed my forehead against hers, letting the silence settle around us. For the first time, I felt like the weight of my past wasn't something I had to carry alone.

Because with Tara by my side, I wasn't just surviving. I was healing.