30

Tara sat on the edge of her bed, her knees pulled to her chest, face buried in her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Karan's words replayed in her mind over and over again. Everything she thought she knew had been flipped upside down. The anger, the hurt—it was all still there, but now tangled with guilt, confusion, and something else... relief?

Her chest ached from holding it all in, and she let out a shaky breath, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The room felt heavier than ever, the silence only amplifying the storm inside her.

Then—a knock.

She froze.

Her eyes darted toward the door, her heart racing. She stood slowly, her legs trembling as she tiptoed to the peephole.

It was Aryan.

She inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth. He was standing there, hair slightly messy, eyes anxious, his knuckles still resting lightly on the door from his knock.

Her first instinct was to stay still, to not make a sound—to let him walk away. But then everything Karan had told her hit her like a wave. Her heart softened. He had tried. He had been stuck, trapped in his own pain just like she had been.

Her hand hovered over the handle, hesitant.

But then she whispered to herself, "I need to talk to him."

She slowly turned the lock and opened the door.

Aryan's eyes met hers immediately. The moment he saw her face, red and puffy from crying, his expression shifted from nervousness to pure concern. His brows furrowed, his mouth parting slightly.

"Tara... what happened to you?" His voice was soft but filled with worry.

She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. "Aryan..." Her breath hitched, and fresh tears welled up. She couldn't hold it in anymore.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. It was instinctual, protective—like all the years apart hadn't changed the way he wanted to shield her from everything.

She melted into him. Her sobs muffled against his hoodie as she clung to him.

"I know you don't trust me. I know you hate me," Aryan whispered, his voice tight with emotion. "But please... tell me what's wrong. Let me fix it. At least let me help you through it—please."

Tara slowly pulled back, her face still wet with tears. She looked up at him, eyes searching his—so familiar, so warm, yet so different.

She wiped her face, trying to steady her breath. Her voice was small but steady.

"Come in."

Aryan nodded, his heart pounding, and stepped inside.

Tara sat on the couch, her legs pulled up slightly, arms wrapped around herself. Her face was still flushed from crying, her eyes red and swollen. She stared down at her hands, trying to gather her thoughts, but her heart was racing.

Aryan closed the door softly behind him and stepped forward. He didn't sit next to her; instead, he knelt on the floor before her, so their eyes would be level.

"Star... what happened? Please tell me," he whispered, his voice laced with worry.

Hearing that name—Star—after so long, in a moment like this, broke something inside her. She looked at him, her eyes flickering with a thousand emotions—pain, anger, love, betrayal. She stood up abruptly.

And slapped him.

The sound echoed in the quiet room.

Aryan's face snapped slightly to the side, but he didn't react with shock or anger. He stayed there, eyes lowered, lips pressed together.

"I deserve that," he murmured. His voice trembled. "I know... I'm sorry."

He started to push himself back, moving away from her, his hands slightly raised like he was surrendering. He thought he had crossed a line—violated her space by hugging her earlier.

"I'm sorry, Tara... I just saw you crying, and I—" He paused, shaking his head. "Never mind."

He turned slightly like he was about to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Why didn't you talk to me, Aryan?" Her voice cracked, eyes glassy. "Why didn't you talk to me the second you could? When everything got better at home?"

Aryan froze. He looked up at her—confused, hesitant.

"I know everything, Aryan," she said, her voice breaking.

His eyes widened, filling with a mixture of shock, relief, and guilt. His throat tightened.

"Who told you?" he asked softly.

"It doesn't matter," she snapped, but her tone was weak.

"Karan," he guessed.

She gave a small nod.

Aryan let out a breath, part frustration, part acceptance. "That guy..."

"No," she cut him off firmly. "Don't you dare blame him."

Silence.

Her voice grew sharper, the pain resurfacing. "Why didn't you talk to me earlier?"

Aryan's eyes glistened. He lowered his head. "I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It had been a year... And when Mom showed me your message—the one where you ended things—I thought... you didn't want me anymore. I thought you were done with me."

Tara's chest tightened. Her voice cracked as she snapped, "THAT'S MY DECISION TO MAKE, ARYAN! Not yours."

He flinched slightly but nodded. He deserved this.

"You came back here knowing I'm here—why?"

He shook his head. "I didn't know, Tara. I didn't know you lived here. I came back because... Dad told me to."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

Aryan swallowed. "Dad... he told me to come back. He told me to—get you back."

Tara blinked, stunned. "I thought your parents hated me."

Aryan shook his head quickly. "No. Only Mom. She thought you were a distraction. Dad... he didn't know what happened. When he found out everything later... he told me I was an idiot. And he said, 'Go back. Fix it. Bring her back into your life.'"

Tara's lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind was racing.

She began throwing questions at him—sharp, quick, desperate for clarity.

"If you knew I'm here, if you didn't live here—if I didn't come in front of you... would you still try to find me?"

"Is that a question, Tara? I had been trying to find you since I got to UK. When Rohan called me to come outside to meet you all, I was busy seeing my modules and seeing if we shared any modules—until I saw you in front of me."

"Does your mom still hate me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aryan's gaze faltered, dropping to the floor. He didn't respond immediately.

"Tell me, Aryan," she urged, her tone more insistent.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "I stopped talking to her."

Tara's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"I... I just did," he replied, his voice strained, avoiding her eyes.

"Why didn't you message Aisha or Aria? Or Priya? Anyone?"

Aryan wiped his face, his voice heavy with regret. "Tara... they blocked me too. After you ended things, they blocked me too. I don't blame them, but yeah. They cut me off. I tried. I swear I did."

Tara shook her head, tears streaming down again. "Why didn't you try from another account? Anything?"

"I... I saw you deactivated your Instagram. And I—Mom had taken my personal email. My company email was monitored. I couldn't risk it. I had no one. I—" His voice broke.

Her chest tightened even more. Her breathing was ragged now.

She stared at him for a moment, then the pain erupted again.

She pushed him lightly against his chest with her hands—once, twice, then harder. Not to hurt him, but because she didn't know how else to let it out. She hit him on the chest, her tears flowing freely.

Aryan stood still. He didn't flinch. He let her. He let her pour everything out onto him.

Tears slipped down his own cheeks now, but he stayed there—taking it.

Finally, his voice came out in a low whisper, thick with emotion.

"Maar star... tuza doshi tujhe samor aahe."

(Hit me, Star. Your criminal is in front of you.)

Tara sobbed even harder. Her hands slowly dropped from his chest. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed forward.

Aryan caught her.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, his chin resting against her head. His hand cradled the back of her hair gently as she wept into his shoulder.

He pressed a gentle kiss on her temple, his tears falling into her hair.

"I'm sorry, Star," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

💜

Brb getting tissues! Literally teared up writing this chapter!