Chapter 1
The sharp crack of wood against wood jolted Tara back into reality. Her heart leapt as the sound of the table being slammed echoed through the cold, air-conditioned room.
She blinked rapidly, her lashes damp with sweat she hadn’t noticed forming. The panel of interviewers sat in a row, stiff-backed and expectant, but all she could see was the man across from her—the one person she had prayed never to face again in this lifetime.
Her chest tightened. Her palms trembled under the table. The words on her résumé blurred. The air was suddenly too thin, the walls closing in, suffocating her. Panic surged like a wave, crashing mercilessly.
“Tara, are you even listening?” The man’s voice sliced through her thoughts. The same voice that once had the power to make her smile for no reason, now leaving her hollow.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her throat burned.
Five years. It had been five whole years since she walked away from everything—since her MBA graduation, since the promises, since the betrayal that had left her rebuilding pieces of herself. And now, here she was, sitting across from him, interviewing for a job she desperately needed, her confidence unraveling with every second.
The room blurred again, her pulse hammering in her ears. Tara wanted to vanish, to fold herself into nothingness. By the time the interview ended, she wasn’t sure if she had even answered a single question. All she knew was that she stumbled out of the office, lungs aching for air, wishing she could erase the memory of those eyes on her.
Outside, the city buzzed with life—horns blaring, vendors shouting, footsteps rushing. Tara walked aimlessly until her feet carried her to the one place that had always been her sanctuary.
The willow tree.
Its branches swayed gently in the wind, long strands of green trailing down like a mother’s arms offering shelter. She sank onto the grass beneath it, her back pressing against the rough bark. In front of her stretched the quiet river—Serenya, as she had named it long ago, her secret companion in both joy and sorrow.
The waters rippled softly, reflecting the fading sunlight, and for a moment, her chest loosened. Here, by Serenya, she didn’t need to pretend. She could just breathe. She could just be.
Her eyes stung, but no tears fell. She had promised herself long ago that he would never see her broken again. Still, her heart whispered questions she had buried: Why was he there? Why now?
She shook her head, burying the thoughts in the whispers of the river. Some things were not meant to be remembered.
By the time Tara reached home, the weight on her chest had eased a little. The smell hit her first—rich spices mingling with the sweet tang of ripe mangoes.
“Amma…” she whispered, her lips curving despite the heaviness of her day.
Her mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of curry. “You’re back early,” she said, her voice warm, almost knowing. Without turning, she added, “Your favorite curry today… and mango dessert.”
Tara’s stomach clenched with both hunger and gratitude. It was as if her mother had sensed the storm in her heart and decided to anchor her with love.
In the living room, her father was half-lying on the couch, absorbed in the evening news, the glow of the television flickering across his glasses. On the sofa beside him, her younger sister scrolled endlessly on her phone, her face lit by the cold blue screen.
For a moment, Tara just stood at the door, drinking in the sight of home—the warmth, the ordinariness, the safety. A smile tugged at her lips for the first time all day.
She ran upstairs, eager for the solitude of her room. Dropping her bag onto the chair, she peeled off the day’s weight along with her clothes and stepped into the shower.
The first touch of water against her skin was electric. It cascaded down her head, threading through her black, silky hair, sliding along her shoulders and arms, pooling at her feet. Tara closed her eyes and let the stream envelop her.
But water doesn’t only cleanse—it remembers. And as it slid down her body, it carried her back five years, into memories she had fought to bury.
A face. A laugh. Promises whispered under a night sky. The feel of a hand holding hers with certainty. Then—the shattering. Words that burned like acid. Trust breaking into shards she could never piece back together.
Her fingers tightened into fists. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile wall, the water mixing with the tears she didn’t want to admit were there.
How cruel was fate, to place him in front of her again?
And yet, a deeper question lingered like a ghost she couldn’t silence: What if seeing him again wasn’t fate’s cruelty… but its plan?
The thought terrified her.
She turned off the shower abruptly, her breath shaky. The bathroom filled with silence, broken only by the dripping of water from her hair. She wrapped herself in a towel, staring into the mirror at a face that looked the same, yet carried the scars of everything she had lost.
Tonight, she decided, she wouldn’t think of him again. She couldn’t afford to.
But as Tara climbed into bed later, the sound of his voice—the one she had once loved—echoed in her mind. And she knew that no matter how much she wanted to forget, this was only the beginning.
