‘Why did you want to come here?’
‘I wanted to recreate a moment from the day we first met.’
She was moved by his thoughtful gesture. ‘Well, if you really wanted brownie points for recreating it, you should’ve arranged a full-on fair as well.’
‘Maybe, someday,’ he said, in such a serious way that it made her stomach tighten.
Her gaze drifted past him, to the spot where the Ferris wheel had been set up that night four years ago. She remembered how the city lights glittered like stars from the top, and how when they’d paused at the peak of the wheel, she’d given into the mad urge to kiss him.
He’d tasted like candy sugar, and nothing in her life had ever felt as terrifying and right as that kiss had.
‘So, since I answered one of your questions this morning, I figure you owe me one too.’
She turned to face him, taking a bite of the chaat. ‘What do you want to know?’
It seemed like he was searching for the right words. ‘You never answered my question about your childhood from this morning.’
She looked ahead toward the water, the sun dipping slightly. ‘It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly good either. I just remember that I was utterly exhausted.’
He stayed silent, waiting patiently for her to continue. She was grateful for it, because it gave her a chance to gather her fractured thoughts.
‘I was always competing with Dhruv because he was better than me at everything. Then, there was sweet and sensitive Kashu who needed me to help her navigate her life. And Dad? He monitored every grade, every outfit, every opinion of mine. There was never a version of me that was enough for him, and when I pushed back, I was tagged as the difficult child.’
‘And your mother?’ he asked.
She smiled despite the ache blooming in her chest. ‘Maa was the only one who saw all of me and accepted me without trying to tweak my personality.’
‘How old were you when she…’ he trailed off, unable to finish it.
‘I was ten and Kashu was six.’
‘It must’ve been difficult to deal with it at such a young age, under the scrutiny of the media,’ Abhay said, tracing shapes on the back of her hand.
‘It wasn’t the media that made it difficult. It was the emotional trauma of the accident,’ she confessed.
‘Wait. You’d been with her in the car? I didn’t know,’ he said, the crease between his eyes deepened.
‘Dad worked hard to keep that titbit out of the media, but both Kashvi and I had been in the car with her. I don’t remember the impact. I woke up directly in the hospital with a cracked rib, fractured pelvis, and an ugly scar just above my hip.’
‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ Abhay said, shifting closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
She rubbed the back of his hand, grateful to have his strength to lean on.
‘Was Kashvi hurt too?’
Siya was about to shake her head, but then caught herself, because it would’ve been a lie. ‘Kashu was unharmed physically, but emotionally, she has never really recovered. She hasn’t slept through the night since that day, and struggles with insomnia and night terrors.’
Abhay nodded, finally figuring it out. ‘That’s why you hate leaving her alone at night.’
‘It’s not rational, I know, but after everything, I can’t shake the guilt. Even now, she wakes up from nightmares crying. She hides it well, but I’ve always known.’
‘Where was your Dad in all of this?’
‘He didn’t come home until after I recovered.’
Abhay looked stunned. ‘He didn’t come home for months?!’
She picked at the fraying edge of her sundress as she answered. ‘No. Dad stayed in Hawaii. The funeral was handled by his manager. Kashu and I… we just had each other. She used to sit by my hospital bed, scared that I was going to die too. Shewas still a kid, yet she was the one bringing me water, helping me walk to the bathroom when I should’ve been the one taking care of her.’
