Chapter 18 — Confrontation #2
Arin lay on the bed, fever still lingering, sweat dampening his hair.
His parents hovered nearby, hesitant, unsure of how to approach the son they had wronged for so long.
"I… I never wanted this for you," his mother whispered, voice breaking.
Arin turned his sharp gaze toward them, eyes blazing.
"You didn't want it for me? Or for Neel?"
His father flinched, swallowing hard.
"Arin… we… we made mistakes. We—"
"Mistakes?" Arin's voice cut through the room like ice.
"You played favorites. You made him golden, and you made me invisible. You ignored me. You punished me with love you reserved for another. Do you know what that feels like?"
Tears welled up in his mother's eyes.
"I… I didn't know…"
"Didn't know?" he spat, shaking slightly from fever and rage.
"Don't lie. You knew. Every day. And you did nothing. Nothing but smile at him while I… I became someone who had to vanish to survive."
Neel stepped forward, voice trembling.
"Arin… I'm sorry. I didn't see it. I should have—"
"Don't speak!" Arin snapped, exhausted and trembling.
"Not yet. I need you to hear me."
He leaned back, breath heavy.
"I am alive because I chose to be. I am not here because of you. I am here because I fought, clawed, and became someone who could survive your love—or lack of it. I forgive nothing yet, and I will allow nothing from the past to touch me or my family. Not my wife. Not my son."
Silence filled the room.
Finally, he exhaled, the weight of years pressing down.
"I will let you see him. But you will earn the right to be near me again. Slowly. Carefully. With respect. Any misstep… and you leave."
Tears silently slid down his mother's cheeks. His father nodded, voice barely audible:
"We will… we will do everything to earn it, Arin."
Arin closed his eyes, letting the fever and the years of pain settle together.
For the first time in decades, he felt… a small, cautious peace.
The walls were still there, but cracks of trust had begun to form.