Page 121 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“Has he told you what he did?” he asked me. “You love him, don’t you? You should know this about the man you love. He took away the only woman I loved in my life. He took my baby,” he said, and began weeping.

I took a startled step back.

“He hauled me off like a piece of luggage. My baby was nine months old. He took away my happiness.” He wept bitterly. “I hate him.”

“Dad.” Sameer squatted before him. “I was young and impetuous and worried about Mom. But I did what you asked.”

“After you left me penniless! How could I take care of my family without money? I lost everything, and you used it to force me away from them.”

“I have apologized. To you and Sangita and Riya. I know what I did was wrong. I was immature. But what about you? You betrayed Mom. You betrayed our trust in you, you had another family. Yet you’ve never apologized in all these years. Not to me. Not to Juhi. Not to Mom.”

Sameer stood up and paced for a moment.

“You could’ve done it the right way. You could’ve divorced Mom, then married Sangita and had a proper family with her. But you didn’t. You didn’t because your fortune was tied up with us, with Mom, and you chose the coward’s way out. Yes, I’m at fault for separating you from your other family, but it was your fault we were in that position in the first place.”

His father turned his face away, with the stream of tears still going strong.

“Did you ask her, Dad? Did you ask Sangita what she wanted?” The older man’s stubborn neck remained strained away from Sameer. “Did you consider why she asked for me instead of you during her last days?”

That brought his father’s face swiveling back to Sameer.

“Because you assumed and imposed your will on her life. On Riya’s life. She would’ve gladly accepted to live with a little less money if it meant living with you. I understand love, Dad. I understand its loss. I understand it perfectly now. I know you loved her. But you did it wrong. You chose the wrong family for the wrong reason. You were smart. You could’ve started over. Sangita and Riya didn’t need your money. They needed you. But you needed the money and the comfort, didn’t you? You’ve always blamed me for the loss of your love, but you were the reason I lost Tara. But this time, I choose Tara. I know what it will cost me, and I don’t care.”

His father looked at me, and I lowered my eyes. I had been unwittingly drawn into their family drama, but it was going to be my family now, along with all its drama. If he wanted me to leave, he gave no indication, so I remained planted in my place.

“I sought Sangita’s forgiveness, as I have sought yours.” Sameer’s eyes moved from me to him again. “And she forgave me. But you’ve been so complacent, so unrepentant, lashing out at me for your decisions. Mom thinks you drink because you miss Sangita. But I know it’s not her you miss. You miss the unchecked behavior. You sulk because you couldn’t have it all. You couldn’t have your marriage to Mom, keep your social status, and have your life with Sangita, whom you claimed to love. You are a farce, Dad. It is high time you stop blaming me and confront your own sins.”

His father’s head snapped up at those words. Sameer stared back at him, not in anger, but with apathy for his tears.

“Riya is waiting for you. She needs you. You have a second chance. Don’t be selfish this time. And lay off the whisky, Dad. It’s time to quit. Time to move on. Riya is here, and we’ve got thirteen years to make up for.”

Sameer took a couple of steps toward me, then walked back to his father. He pulled out an envelope from his trouser pocket and extended his hand.

“Sangita wrote this letter for you. She told Riya to give it to you when she was gone.”

His father’s eyes welled up again as he took the letter from Sameer’s hand.

Outside the bedroom, Sameer paused in the hallway to try and regain his composure.

“Are you alright, my jaan?” I whispered and placed a hand on his chest. The thud of his heart against my palm sounded as loud as the whoosh of blood in my own head.

He took my hand and kissed it. “I’ve been wanting to say that for so many years. I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance.”

“Your hand is cold,” I whispered.

“Yes. But I’m alright now.” He pulled himself upright into his handsome figure and threaded his fingers through mine. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said as we walked back to the kitchen.

“Dad is on his way,” he announced with a smile when we were back at the table. “He was taking a nap.”

Durgaben got up to make more tea.

“I’ll have some too, please,” I said, hoping the strong tea would help calm my jitters from having witnessed the father-son encounter.

“So, Riya,” I began. “What do you say we go shopping this weekend?”

Her eyes brightened. “Where?”

I smiled at Sameer. “We can start at the snooty mall.”

---