“It’s ok, Vivek, let her do it,” Samrat says, his hand stopping his valet mid-way as he tries to set his plates for him. 

Mishti cannot, even if she wants to, suppress the warmth that surges inside her chest at those words, biting back a squeal and ducking her head to hide the excited twinkle in her eyes as she plates the man’s food, a simple task that she had unexpectedly missed a lot for the past four days, unable to see the surprise in Samrat’s eyes at a particularly good bite or him discreetly licking his finger at the end of the meal, the action letting her know that the man liked the food even though he would never voice that himself. 

So, Mishti with a pleasant surprise gets to her task and sees as Samrat digs into the food, this time not waiting for even a second more, no shadow of doubt on his face.

Mishti doesn’t know whether he still trusts her fully or not, or if she ever wants him to do so considering who she is, but one thing that she knows is that he isn’t wary of her anymore and that is what makes all the difference, letting her heave a sigh of relief that had been stuck in her throat before the gardener had found Samrat’s watch, safely nestled between two potted plants. The watch that her brother had send to her via Ranvi, well not directly but her friend had done his work. 

Mishti already knew that her brother would be sending her another watch because he didn’t trust agency, especially this time when the task was so obvious, and the suspicion, without any doubt, had come onto her but the sudden arrival of the good news had still come to her as a surprise. 

Her brother didn’t do all this for Samrat, the imported watch which took three days to reach India not being a consequence of any guilt or remorse because from their group it was her brother who had always been the most practical one, less emotional, but when it comes to her, he is always too sensitive, too understanding and too good of a brother. He did all this to protect her from further suspicion. 

The fact that Samrat is relishing the balsamic feta Bruschetta without nitpicking about a single bite – has been possible all due to her brother. 

Naturally, Mishti can’t help the sudden urge that grows inside her heart to see her brother once again, to talk to him face to face even though she had talked to Ruhi yesterday and all they had talked about was him. Though Mishti still hasn’t forgotten the news of the arrival of their new yet familiar guest back at home, her heart longing to be beside her brother even more. Because whatever had happened between her brother and Tara had been all because of her, her brother had made enemies for the first time and let everyone know that he’d probably do anything for his sister. 

Mihir doesn’t forget about his sister’s tear-filled eyes, not until he coaxes her into telling the name of the culprit who had made his sister cry, and once he does get to know, he tells himself to never forget that name – Tara.

In the coming days, Ruhi witnesses her brother searching all the place for a girl named Tara, and at last he finds her talking with Raghav and Ruhi, all three of them swinging on the swing.

“You! You made Chutki cry, who are you to tell her that her parents are dead?” he shouts, not bothering if the supervisors will come and punish him. He NEEDS to give this girl a piece of his mind. The same girl who doesn’t seem deterred in the least, still swinging even though her friends have stop doing that.

“Hello to you too, and I don’t know who Chutki is or when I made her cry, but to answer your question, I’m just a fellow person whose parents have died, and so I kindly thought that everyone should be aware of that. The sooner people realise, the better it gets.” She smiles, Tara, and Mihir doesn’t take that kindly.

“My sister doesn't need your help, alright?” Mihir snarls, his gaze hardening at the unneeded smile. “ And I don’t know about you but my Chutki doesn’t deserve for her parents to be dead or to know that her parents are no more, get it?” 

“Mihir!” Raghav roars in a chiding tone and so does Ruhi, but eleven year old Mihir can't think of the implication of his words, he only sees his Chutki's crying face.

He doesn't bother going behind the girl when she runs away with tears pooling in her eyes, all his friends following her.

Had he remembered what he had said that day a few years later, he might have apologized for it, and told the girl that he hadn't meant that but neither does Mihir remembers those words, nor does Tara stay in the orphanage for too long.

Her adoptive parents come and take her away, and Mihir bids her a goodbye as the person who hurt his sister.

*

“So, you like her, huh?” Mihir asks, a scoff escaping his lips, but Raghav doesn’t answer him politely. He doesn’t answer him at all. He just turns to him with his narrowed eyes and glares. 

“What? It’s just an observation and you’re doing nothing to refute it!” he exclaims but Raghav still doesn’t budge.

“That’s because I don’t bother giving you any answers when you’re being an insufferable prat.”

“You –”

“I’m older than you so don’t even try to curse me, and you know I hate you being like this, so prejudiced and an utter prick.”

Mihir huffs at the words but he too doesn’t do anything to refute them because he knows they are true. His feelings, his feelings of animosity towards Tara are old, probably dormant considering how he has to think for the comebacks and ways to irritate her, they don’t come naturally anymore like they used to do in their childhood.

“She was also just a kid back then, you know. We all were. I don’t think it’s right of you to hold a grudge against her considering what you’d said to her. If she didn’t apologize to you, neither did you, Mihir and sorry to say, but your words probably have hurt her more than hers ever did to Mishti.”

And this, Mihir knows that this too is true. 

“I’ll – I’ll do something about it.”

Raghav’s eyes light up. “You will?”

Mihir makes a face, though it lacks malice. “I’ll try.”

“Prat.”

“Git.”

Mihir realizes he spoke too soon when that night he finds Ruhi urging him to go, ignoring the pleading looks he is giving her. “Go!” she whispers, gently pushing him from his back until he stumbles upon the plane of the terrace, a few feet behind where Tara’s sitting. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to go, it’s just that he thinks it’ll be too awkward, especially after yesterday, after their whole childhood as a past. 

Mihir looks back one more time at Ruhi who gives him a small smile this time, and automatically his nerves calm down, managing a smile of his own to return to the girl. 

He clears his throat as he reaches Tara and doesn’t sit until she doesn’t turn to him. 

“Hi,” he greets, waving his hand awkwardly in the air, the girl manages to give him a tight smile in return, waving back. 

He thinks that if he’ll ask to sit beside her then it would be too awkward, and so without thinking much he just takes his place beside her, deliberately ignoring the way her eyes widen, choosing to look forward from where they are sitting at the ledge of the terrace. 

And then he contemplates where to start the conversation. He looks at her and this time doesn’t avoid the eye contact, instead just gulps, and sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. And after a long breath of courage, he says, “Er, I wanted to talk to you about what I said that day –”

“Mihir –”

“And all those years ago.” 

That shuts up any argument that Tara was going to throw his way, her gaze hardening slightly, giving Mihir the full proof that she hadn’t really forgotten anything. Not a single word. 

“I shouldn’t have talked to you that way yesterday, I know that we all have just united, at least with you, and we all should be celebrating this fact, and trust me when I say that I am happy,” he says looking at her, trying to let her know that whatever he’s saying is genuine. “It’s just that all this Samrat issue had been bothering me since it started, Mishti’s weird behaviour, the agency providing us with half information, and then suddenly getting to know that the Preeti that was supposed to go to that man’s house was you, it-it just confused me a lot. So, I asked you about that, but I know that I shouldn’t have at least in that way. It’s just that it all concerned Mishti it at the end of it, and you know how protective I am of my siste –”

“Oh, I know that very well.” That’s the first thing Tara says since he has started talking, and it is then Mihir realises fully to what depth those words had hurt her. 

“I am sorry.” He says immediately, not wanting to take any more time in apologising for his dire mistake. “I am really sorry, Tara. But please know that I didn’t mean them – I was, I was just angry and Chutki was crying and all I could see was her tears, but –” he gulps, not helping the way his hands clench into fists at his side.

“I didn’t mean any of that. No one deserves for their parents to be dead. No one deserves for their affection to be taken out of their lives. I was very wrong in suggesting that I’m sorry.” His voice has come down to mumbling, but clear enough for Tara to hear, the same Tara whose eyes are engaged blinking back the stinging tears and nails scratching the insides of her palm. 

Mihir doesn’t think that she has forgiven him but it’s ok if she hasn’t – the words he said, the years he took to apologise for them – they were all too big to be forgiven this soon.

“I –” Tara begins, teeth almost gritted and her pained gaze refusing to be met with Mihir’s. “I don’t know how your parents died, but mine, mine died right in front of my eyes. 

“My father used to work as a driver for this wealthy household that had everything one could ask for. The salary was good and so my father called me and my mother to that place; my mother to work as a house help and me to just sit around do my homework that I didn’t dare leave incomplete because I knew what it had taken for my father to send me to an English-medium school.

"The owner of the house, though, he was…. he was a man with an appearance of an angel, but his head was full of vulgar thoughts. He eyed my mother with foul eyes and made her want to quit her job. And when the man’s wife witnessed his advances, instead of claiming him as the wrong one, that woman made my mother quit her job, but not before embarrassing her. She secretly placed some of her jewels in my mother’s bag, made a spectacle of a theft, and humiliated her in front of everyone. 

"When my mother told my father about it, he went to the police station, asking for their help. The police immediately agreed much to our surprise. However, as soon as that police officer -- it was a lady I remember -- and the wife of the owner came face to face with each other, they hugged, Mihir, they hugged. The officer shook the man’s hands and told him to be careful from the next time and that was it. 

"She went away but my parents and I were left to face the man’s wrath. He immediately stopped my education, destroyed our home back in our village, made my father apologize to him and his wife on his knees, and made my mother’s life hell. 

"One day though, he went too far. I saw as he tried to grab my mother by her waist, despite her screaming and hit her when she didn’t comply. My father wasn’t at home, and my nine-year-old self didn’t remember his number. Police’s number was easy, I stupidly called them despite seeing their behaviour the last time. The police and my father came home at the same time, and as soon as I told my father what had transpired, without thinking much he took the gun from one of the constables and pointed at that man. He had just pointed, Mihir, he just wanted to threaten him, but that police officer - when she pointed her gun at my father, she shot him. She then instructed for my mother to be put in prison for a duration of three months prior, for a thievery that she didn't even do. My mother died there. Away from her dead husband and her daughter, she died.

"One moment, it took one moment for my whole life to change, Mihir. The next thing I knew I was walking towards the orphanage, Daya sor holding my hand.” Tara says, her voice broken, seeming so exhausted. Conjuring up a self-pitying smile, she added, “But one thing that I know for sure, Mihir, is that I didn’t deserve for my parents to be dead. If you and Mishti didn’t, neither did I.....”

She tries to smile again but this time she can't, she breaks down. Her shoulders tremble as she sobs in her hand while Mihir’s condition is no different. His ashamed gaze is afraid to look at that girl, tears rolling down his eyes simultaneously, wanting nothing more to go back in time and take his words back somehow. He doesn’t how that nine-year-old girl handled his comment back then and hated how he perhaps had made her relive all those memories, then and now.

“Tara, I.... I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m – I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out to the crying girl, hesitantly putting a hand on her shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, y-you didn’t deserve any of that, Tara, you didn’t. I’m so sorry….”

He chokes out excruciatingly, shame, guilt and sorrow bubbling in his chest.

Mihir remembers Ruhi and Raghav telling him about their parents, how they didn’t even remember their parent’s faces. Raghav was merely a four-year-old kid when their father left their family. And as fate would have it, their mother died while delivering Ranveer and Ruhi. The latter two didn’t even get to voice out the words ‘Mumma’ and ‘Papa’, while Raghav much like himself was left with the responsibility of his two younger siblings, never knowing a home but only an orphanage. 

Mihir remembers having the urge to take his friends in a bone-crushing hug, not able to imagine how hard would it be to live without any memories whatsoever of your parents. He didn’t think anything could be more painful than their struggle but then today…. Tara, her story. Her sorrow.

Yeah, he thinks, maybe there is even more pain in this world, someone living with a sorrow that is greater than all of them and he....he just had to go and hurt that one person.

It isn’t until Raghav walks to their side, patting his shoulder sympathetically when the apologies stop dribbling out of his mouth. He takes off his hand from the girl's shoulder whose eyes are drooping from all the crying, exhausted. He lets Raghav take it from there, making Tara stand, who whimpers at the disturbance, curling herself to his chest like a baby, exhaling out warm air.

Mihir immediately looks away, not wanting to ruin such a peaceful moment by his vicious gaze and words, remorsefully looking down the ledge. It isn’t until Ruhi comes and sits beside him that he finally steps out of the self-resenting reverie.

“I didn't know.....” he admits with tear-filled eyes and she nods, her hands coming to gently wipe away the tears from his face.

"Shh, it's alright."

But Mihir doesn't think it is.