Seated on a square table, four chairs, separated in sets of two. Prachi and Shahana together holding hands once more, weight- reassurance. Riya and Abhishek together but apart, Abhi's arms folded in his lap, Riya's hands still playing with the fidget cube. Eyes fixed in front of them, incapable of looking at each other. Together but separate, an invisible boundary line.

"From what we have gathered, Mrs Mehra-"

"Miss Arora," Prachi interrupted the doctor. She and the other three sat in the managing doctor's cabin, breathing nothing but a silent whisper of the morning dew.

"Right," the doctor said, nodding awkwardly. "Miss Arora has dissociative amnesia. People with that kind of amnesia tend to forget important information or time periods. In extreme cases, their identity. But the good thing is Miss Arora hasn't experienced anything of that sort," he was quick to reassure. "As the situation presents itself, it's because of the trauma from the accident. She has forgotten from what you told me- twenty years. My guess is she had experienced some other form of accident or trauma previously with whom she called Kiara?"

Abhishek nodded meekly. Accident was the term he used more times than he bothered to count to silence his guilt, to make it seem like that was all it was- an unfortunate accident in which he lost two daughters and a wife. The fact that he didn't fight harder for his daughter and wife who was likely grieving just like him was left buried deep within the debris of a nasty nightmare as he declared it to be.

Her words still rang in his ears. You killed her. The accusation hurt as much as it did twenty years ago, if not more so. It hurt more that some part of him knew her words to be true. Yet he still remained too ignorant to admit, a fool.

He took a side glance at Prachi- my daughter- wishing to hold her, but she had made a point to move furthest from him. He lost that privilege that the day the infant version of her had walked out of his life in the safe arms of her mother. The daughter he had in his own arms incapable of taking up responsibilities, the one that was right beside him, he overlooked. His love was never consistent nor unconditional. He never appreciated what he had until it was gone, lost in the darkness of pretence.

"In that case, her mind has reverted back to that time period. Everything else after that is forgotten almost as if it never happened."

"What are you saying?" Prachi found herself asking.

The doctor took a deep breath, finding the easiest way to break the news. "She doesn't know who the three of you are," he said, pointing at the teenage girls. "That is because three of you came after the incident which occurred twenty years ago. There is also a possibility that this amnesia will last quite a while."

"How long are we talking about?" Shahana asked desperately, needing to cling on to some shimmer of light- hope.

"Weeks, months or years. It really depends on her."

"So what do we do now?" Abhishek finally finds his voice, gruff, quiet. Two pairs of eyes darted to him, then instantly away, fixed on the doctor once more.

"It would be best to go along with what she believes is reality. How it was twenty years ago, a similar environment will put her at ease. Allow her mind to heal, she has lost twenty years of memories. It will be a confusing time for her so surround her with familiar faces. Kiara- she seems to be fixated on her. Give her what she needs."

"How can he? He- killed her. He killed- my sister." In barely controlled fury, Prachi stood in one swift motion, chair clattering to the floor beneath her. Tears flowing from her eyes, those that she cannot control. Cracks appear on the boulder, wanting to be isolated with her emotions. Shahana stood as well, to stop her but it was Abhishek who grabbed her hand.

"I didn't- Princess- it's not what you think. We will fix this." Abhishek spoke gently with desperation, the hate in her eyes clear, hate for him- a stranger turned father in the span of minutes since she came to this bleak hospital. His hand cupped cheek, a thumb trying to wipe her tears away, but Prachi turned her face away.

Fix this....

Kintsugi is a Japanese practice known as fixing a broken vase with gold because it was the sign of embracing one's flaws and forming something new, better and beautiful. It was optimistic but built on the bedrock of absurdity. No doubt the pieces can be joined together but cracks will always remain. Only a person with a brobdingnagian amount of conviction could look past those cuts and consider it to be a work of an artist. Prachi did not possess that amount of faith or kindness. This man standing before her was the cost of all her misery and she couldn't find in herself to forgive him let alone include him in her life. Her family was the pieces of broken poetry and gold couldn't put it back together.

In a quivering raged voice, Prachi spoke, staring at the blank wall in the corner. She couldn't look at him or else she'll cross a line she doesn't want to. "Fix this?! -How?! Can you undo- a murder?! Can you undo- my mother's pain?!" With each word her voice raised an octave higher, so does the clicking in the background.

For a moment Abhishek is left speechless. Then cups Prachi's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "I can- Fuggy- Pragya and you can come live with me. We- we can be a family."

Abhishek smiled tearfully at the prospect of a family. He was a toddler unable to grow out of the preoperational stage of cognitive development. Egocentrism was one of its many characteristics.

While the suggestion left him gleeful, It effectively pissed Prachi off more. Her hand formed into a fist, catching Shahana eyes, begging for help.

The older girl swoops in, resting a calming hand on Prachi's shoulder. "Mr Mehra let go of her- we will take care of Maasi ourselves." She stated firmly.

"No," he stubbornly denied.

Shahana had to control the urge to push him into the wall behind him. She couldn't actually do it seeing as he easily had a good amount of weight over her small form. That didn't stop her from smacking his hands away, harshly, with a stern warning, "when I say let go of my sister, you jolly well get your hands off her, Mr Mehra." She pushed Prachi behind her.

Slightly violent reactions, not knowing what to feel. Only needing to protect her- protect from her father- all of this is so confusing.

"Please just listen to me." Abhishek almost begged from his position, finally listening to anyone else other than the arrogant waves swaying him like a puppet.

"I have nothing-." Said Prachi, but the clicking stopped, and laughter began- the kind that didn't spark joy, empty in a way that the water splashed freely in the vessel.

All of them turned to Riya whose presence was unfelt the entire time, now laughing. Emotions were never her forte, she often didn't know how exactly she felt. This confusion was often the cause she had the most inappropriate reactions in the most serious of situations.

Our mother has amnesia. Our father killed our sister. And you're laughing?! Prachi has never been more confused and furious in her life. Her hand itched to slap some sense into the crazy psycho.

But it's the very thing that makes Riya laugh. None of this makes any fucking sense.

"You want her to listen?! You will fix this? You will explain? Promises. Promises." Riya mocked him and laughed harder than she ever has in the last twenty years. "You never did explain anything! I asked and asked, begged for my Mumma when it became difficult to breathe. You let me suffer, didn't even bother to tell me her name. I hated her! Blamed her for things that were never her fault. You listened to our family botch about her and did nothing! Then I hated myself! Because I thought I was defective. A mother's love is unconditional- why didn't she love me? I hurt my- my ...Mumma- accident- b- blood."

It's becoming difficult to breathe again. Not only Prachi's mother- mine too. Ours. A quick helpless glance at Prachi. I almost killed my mother.

Abhishek quickly recovers from the bliss he was in earlier on. "You were the one behind this?" He questioned. Like daughter, like father, never concentrating on the matter at hand. "I taught you better than that! How could-"

"You taught me?" Riya laughed, panic pushed down, tears in her eyes- of sadness and of disbelief, from the laughter that only intensified. He only got that much from the speech she gave. Why is it that he only sees her faults and never her sorrow? even when she's yelling her lungs out, he doesn't hear- listen.

He does hear her shouting, complaints and tantrums. He just wasn't perceptive enough to listen to her cries and screams of anguish as the wave swept her into the deep seas, away from the element she was habited in- land. Listen to me.

"Since when were you around enough to teach me anything? It wasn't you who taught me to drive. It was Meera Aunty. Not that you would remember, just like how you conveniently forgot to mention the existence of not one but two of my sisters of which one is dead," She said before retracting her statement. "Actually I take that back. One of which you, her father, killed and that was the reason the mother I've hated for a good chunk of my life left me in your incapable hands."

"Riya!" He screamed, clenching his fist behind his back, not wanting to do what he did earlier to trigger another wave of panic. "Don't cross the line. We will finish this later." He said, breathing heavily.

Riya got to her feet slowly, laughter depleting into small chuckles. Before anyone had time to blink, the contents on the desk of the doctor were sent flying to the floor. "Cross the line?!" She screamed in tandem with the shattering sand clock- time had run out and the vessel containing the vicious waves of rage sailed through the obstructing dam.

The three flinched in surprise and recoiled slightly. And here I thought I was violent. This girl is basically an unhinged bruce banner. Shahana thought with a frown.

"You don't get to pretend that none of this just happened Mr Mehra! Oh but wait, that's in our deoxyribonucleic acid right. Pretending that everything is fine when really, nothing is the way it's supposed to be. That's all you've been doing for the last two decades. Pretending these three people we are supposed to be living with doesn't exist," she brought her hand to her forehead, starting to giggle like a child that was playing peekaboo- she was playing it fate, only she wasn't in control of the disappearing face. "I am such an idiot."

Abhishek stepped around the mess on the floor sending the doctors standing there unable to find the moment to intervene, an apologetic smile. "Princess, I was just trying to protect you. I-"

"Exactly. You were trying to protect me. That's what you said and I believed it. I believed every lie that you fed me since the day I was born. More precisely, eight days after we," She emphasized pointing towards Prachi "were born."

"Riya. I was trying to protect you from getting hurt." He stopped looking for words to reassure his daughter and himself. Ironically, on the day of parting he had so much to say, so many accusations to spit out but standing here before the person that endured the consequences, he had no justification.

She scoffed in amazement. "Are you even listening to yourself, Mr Mehra? How-"

"Sorry to break whatever this is up," The nurse taking care of Pragya whacked on the door to inform Prachi and Shahana. "But your mother is stirring, I think she is going to wake up soon," They finally stopped shifting their heads back and forth between the father and daughter to nod at the nurse. Sharing a look, they walked out the door. Arguments forgotten, Abhishek hurried after the two girls.

The youngest of four, watched him leave the door- why is that not surprising. She chuckled. Her eyes fell on the petrified doctor in the cabin, the mess around his table and him again. "I am sorry for this. I'll help you clean it up- pay for it."

Throw money at the problem to fix it. A scandalous tactic learned from her father because she was always the problem.

"No, no. I'll get the staff to handle it. Your mother is going to want to see you when she wakes up."

She didn't want to for the past two decades.

"I am pretty sure she doesn't."

He gives her a knowing look but to her, it looks more professional than intended. "What makes you say that?"

"Now you're just playing pretend," God, I'm sick of it. "After whatever just went down her, do you seriously think that she would even know who I am?"

"She knows that Kiara has two sisters. Twins. You are one of them."

Riya didn't have it in her to fight off his insistence. She picked up Shahana's fallen fidget cube and headed out the door after her family.

Abhishek's failure as a parent did not absolve Pragya from her mistakes. No matter how much her father sucked, it was still her mother's conscious choice to leave her. Everyone's to blame, yet no one will take said blame.

---Fading In The Sun---

The walls stared back at them in disinterest as they waited for Pragya to wake up. They should have taken this time to relax and think about what to do with the situation. Instead, their minds lopped in circles trying to find a coral in the seaweed showered depths, an enchantress of clarity in this madness. She was never found and all that they came back to was the word, family.

Family -a working unit, a group of supporters, shelter from the storm and lovable companions. This family was none of those things. A dysfunctional broken working part, a group of lone wolves that didn't know what the use of the pack actually was, the harbinger of a whirlwind, and hateful enemies- yet all rang hollow on the inside.

There's beauty in the destruction that rages around her, unbothered, lost in its own tune of anarchy, hellbent on causing damage way beyond what was considered acceptable. She couldn't set a boundary after the woman she knocked down last evening turned out to be her estranged mother. Maybe it would stop the boulders prickling her skin tirelessly or maybe she would dodge out of the water the next time a herd of them move to unleash their wave of attacks.

Time was a master manipulator, the queen of its chessboard. The rest of them were pawns to use and discard as and when it pleased.

Prachi had always thought of the morning dawn as a blessing- warm, paragon of hope and a protector from the evil lurking around at dusk. Hating it with the drive a mama bear possessed never crossed her mind and now that was all the only coherent sentence she could string together. She craved the darkness that would shield her from these harsh rays. Hiding was cowardice, one would say; But it was the longevity of her sanity.

Patience came with its own set of rules down the wonky road and the power for the user to wield without having to bat an eyelid. She was waiting for some guidance in which direction to walk. The only person that could provide it was laying in bed, oblivious to the storm.

Older children learned more self-sufficiency than pampered peers but for the most part, Shahana just wanted freedom from being swept in and out of the sea like a ragdoll. Security was a luxury left in the shores, buried beneath the sand - under the pyramid of forgotten memories of her mother figure. She had taken to staring at the walls peering back at her. They were good- bland and indifferent, no benevolence nor malice. Most of all, they did not stir up a resting avalanche of sticks and stones in her. She could watch them without the scratching urge to run.

The death of Kiara planted a seed in him that her absence germinated. It grows despite the lack of sunlight. The plant didn't need it, all it craved was hurt, betrayal, anger and grief. Like a fool unaware of the monster he was breeding, Abhishek nurtured it. He wondered how his feelings were still ever strong- attachment, peace and above all, anger. He watched the woman he loved - loves. The woman who had spent more time apart from him than together. Maybe keeping her identity or image of her would save Riya from experiencing the same anguish that he endured when they part once more. That time without the hope of coming together once again.

"I wanted to protect you from this mess. From whatever is happening now," He said, gaining the attention of the occupants. The medical staff had left them alone as instructed by the doctor in charge.

"How is lying and hiding any of this supposed to protect me? Did you really think that we could run our whole lives from this truth?" Riya couldn't believe him nodding to her questions.

"You were living perfectly fine and happy and I thought that not knowing would preserve that happiness." If only it was as simple as that.

Every facade has its cracks and those who know you well enough can see through them. Abhishek didn't know her well enough and so bought the mask with cracks- incognizant of their existence rather than embracing it as flaws that make it perfectly imperfect.

"I was fine and happy?" She chuckled, the same as the laughter in the doctor's cabin. "You are really delusional aren't you? Or maybe just too self-obsessed to notice anyone else's pain other than your own!"

"What are you talking about? I've given you everything you wanted and done everything you asked for! That's what fathers do!"

All I wanted was you!

Riya remained in her corner manipulating the cube in her hand. "Really," the cube wasn't helping in any way to quell her irritation bordering homicidal rage. "do they also neglect their child in the pursuit of collecting materialistic possessions or take their agency away to make themselves feel better about past screw-ups!"

"What rubbish are you talking about? I've always prioritized you over everyone else."

Liar.

"You are so full of shit!" Riya moved from her corner, in front of him pointing a finger in accusation. Twenty years of buried rage unleashed today.

This is not the time or place.

"Enough," Prachi, who was silently witnessing the exchange, yanked Riya back and whirled her around to look her dead in the eye. "You aren't any better yourself Riya Mehra. You are the reason we are here in the first place!"

"Seems like we should get a doctor for you too, seeing as you forgot what I told you merely hours ago." Satire to mask the pain she feels, distinguishing the blame from pain that swims in Prachi's eyes.

"Oh, I remember. But it doesn't change the fact that the reason our mother is in this bed right now is because you don't know how to serve out of the way."

"I'd like to see you try when a puppy appears out of nowhere in the middle of the road. I bet you'd be a professional. Oh so perfect you are after all. Perfect Prachi," Riya scowled. "There's even a little ring to it."

Prachi bit her lip. Her hand became a fist. I am tired of being perfect. It came with a price.

"I am damn sure she wouldn't end up making people lose their loved ones," Shahana said in a low voice and a hardened face, once again standing in front of Prachi. Protect- that's all she could process.

"That was never my intention, Shazia." she glared back at Shahana just as fiercely, anger masking desperation for someone to believe in her.

"It doesn't matter. You were driving. You knocked her down. You are the reason she can't remember the daughter she raised from the last twenty years."

There is someone to take the blame- someone innocent who shouldn't be guilty of mistakes committed by her parents. She looks at Prachi, my sister. Riya was the reason for her suffering.

"I am," she agrees, no longer trying to convince anyone else but herself. "I am to blame for all this." I am my father's daughter after all.

"No, no one is to blame for this." delusional. "It was just an accident!" Abhishek cried out defensively because of their topic of conversation- blame. That word, an echo of the past. Blame is what they accused each other of.

No one's to blame. He would like to cling onto that statement, a while longer.

Pragya began to stir from her slumber from their continuous yelling. "What was just an accident?" She asked from her position, drawing three pairs of eyes on her. She rested a hand on her head, squeezing her eyes together to get the pulsing in her head to stop.

They stare at her, mouths slightly agape, easier to breathe this way. What do we say? There were no answers, only questions left unanswered.

Pragya opened her eyes when a hand held hers, soft and shaking in a tangible tremor motion.

"Do you remem- remember me?" Asked Prachi, voice not above a whisper. Keeping an ill-fated hope that perhaps the rest had been a hallucination. That Pragya would wake up, and suddenly remember.

"Should I?" Pragya's brows pinched again, head tilted. As though seeing her face for the first time ever.

More forgotten. Erased even the memories of a few hours ago. Erased the revelation of Kiara's death.

Prachi stifled a sob, a hand over their hands- Shahana's. Silently comforting, but without words, on the verge of a breakdown herself. You should- you were all I had. All we had.

"How much do you remember?" For someone going off on a raged rampant not a minute ago, Riya seems to ask the most logical question, stuck in her corner once more.

This was practiced behaviour- forget that it ever happened, one ear in one ear out, anger was a halfwit's recognition. She picked it up from dealing with her father's tantrums over the years. The tantrums were the miraculous moments that he remembered of the daughter he had and when he looked for her, she went there- much like himself. But when he did find her, he threw a fit about being disappointed and walked off leaving both of them alone once again, the moment spent together wanting to hide in their own shell.

"Kiara."

The only name that provided comfort.

Silence.

Darkness.

Give her what she needs.

Few hesitant steps forward, another hand grasps her free hand. In direct confrontation once more. Though this time she doesn't shove him away, smiles slightly.

At last a familiar face, a familiar hold, comforting, though something about it feels wrong. Hesitant fingers becoming braver, interlocked, encaged in white lies and forgotten broken promises.

The lyrics that leave his mouth are said with a certain amount of thought but majorly with reckless impulsivity, not reflecting upon the power of words and the responsibility of truth they hold.

"You'll see- her... but may not recognize her." She frowned at the incomprehensible lyrics. "It's- it's been... twenty years." Hushed words, the beginning of their lengthy charade. Three heads nodded in unison at his fallacy solace, unaware of his temerarious plan. He slowly wraps an arm around Shahana's shoulders. Like a dead from neck up ostrich, she shoved her head under the sand when danger arrived. She assumed it was to provide some comfort- she had never been so wrong in her whole life. "This is our daughter, Kiara."

A silent storm rolls in, picking up dried leaves to pile them up against one another, then leaves as though it had never been there. There isn't time to rest because the rain takes over- reminding them of this facade of normality. It changes the hues of leaves. It sings in a melody only the leaves understood as they allowed it to pitter patter onto their delicate skin. It steals a fraction of the blazing heat trapped, drop by drop, second by second- lie after lie. Cultivating a fictional narrative, then labelling it a reality.

The sun has hidden behind the dark clouds, lost in its own game of destiny. Headed towards dusk or dawn, paradise or perdition, redemption or ruin, only time will tell. This path has no clear destination, riddled with fog. There is no turning back now, they have already traversed the point of no return. 

A/N: Don't forget to R&R!