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“I didn’t think you’d come,” Rohan finally said, his voice low and rough, breaking the long silence. His words weren’t angry, just tired.
“I wasn’t sure I would,” Aditi admitted, her eyes drifting to the old armchair in the corner where their father used to sit and read. “But I needed to.”
Rohan turned to face her then, his eyes dark and unreadable. There was a tension in the air, the kind that came from years of hurt and unresolved pain. Neither of them knew where to begin, and yet both of them knew that this moment was inevitable.
Aditi took a deep breath. “Rohan, I—” She stopped, the words catching in her throat. She had thought about this conversation for years, rehearsed what she might say if they ever spoke again. But now that she was here, standing in front of him, it all felt too raw, too complicated.
Rohan watched her struggle, his jaw tightening. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice flat.
But Aditi shook her head. “No, I do.” She looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in years, she saw her brother—not the person she had fought with, not the stranger he had become, but her brother, the boy who had once been her best friend. “I’m sorry, Rohan.”
He flinched at the words, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. “Sorry for what?” he asked, his tone harsher than he intended.
“For everything,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “For not being here when Mom was sick. For leaving you to deal with it all on your own. I know I should have been there, and I wasn’t. And I know I can’t change that, but… I’m sorry.”
Rohan stared at her, his expression hard, but beneath it, she could see the cracks. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he turned away, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the past had finally become too much to bear.
“I hated you for a long time, you know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a bitterness that made Aditi’s heartache. “After Mom died, I felt like you abandoned us. Dad never said it, but I knew he felt it too.”
Aditi closed her eyes, the guilt washing over her like a wave. She had known, on some level, that this was how Rohan had felt, but hearing it out loud made it all the more painful.
“I didn’t mean to leave you,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought I was doing what was best for me. For my career. But I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I didn’t know how to come back after that.”
Rohan was silent for a long time, his back still turned to her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more fragile than she had ever heard it. “I didn’t know how to forgive you. I still don’t.”
A tear slipped down Aditi’s cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. She didn’t need forgiveness, not right away. She just needed him to understand that she was sorry—that she had carried the weight of her decisions every single day since she left.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” she said softly. “I just wanted you to know that I regret it. Every day. And I’m here now. If you’ll let me be.”( To be continued)
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati , Assam , India
11/10/2024
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