Forsaken Melody

Part 2

Two Days Ago

"Avantika, bacche," Anuradha said, her eyes filled with concern as she noticed the tension etched in her daughter's face. "You need to take a moment to breathe. You've been rehearsing all week. I'm sure you can present even if awoken from sleep now."

"Your mother is right," Priya, the daughter's best friend, chimed in, her voice soothing as a balm. "You've done everything you can to prepare. You're going to knock their socks off tomorrow."

Avantika allowed herself a small smile as a heavy exhale fell apart from her chapped lips, grateful for the unwavering support that these two women provided. Their presence was an anchor in the tempestuous sea of uncertainty that threatened to engulf her.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking a sip of the steaming chamomile tea that her mother had just handed her. "It's just... this feels like my entire future is on the line."

"Of course it does," Priya acknowledged, her hand coming to rest on Avantika's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "But your determination and grit will carry you through. We believe in you, and so will the investors."

"Your father would be proud," Anuradha added softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He always knew you were destined for greatness, Avantika."

Avantika's heart swelled at her mother's words, a mix of pride and sadness filling her as she thought of her father. She knew he had been her biggest cheerleader, always pushing her to strive for the stars.

As the weight of her father's memory settled upon her, Avantika felt a renewed sense of purpose. His belief in her abilities had been unfaltering, and though he was no longer with them, she could still feel the echoes of his encouragement as if he were standing beside her, even though she had spent a better part of her life trying to fill the void he had left behind.

"Alright," she said, taking a deep breath and straightening her spine. "Let's do this one more time."

Her mother and Priya nodded, their expressions determined as they settled in to watch her rehearse. They were more than glad to express their support by acting as her audience for the rehearsal. It was far from the first time they had listened to the pitch, but it was no surprise for they were no strangers to Avantika's meticulous diligence.

As Avantika began her pitch, she felt the warmth of their belief envelop her like a protective embrace, buoying her spirits and filling her with a resolve that transcended the apprehension that had plagued her.

She knew that, no matter the outcome, she would face it with the strength and grace that had been instilled in her by those who loved her most. For in the hearts of those who believed in her, she had found the resilience to endure, the courage to persevere, and the audacity to chase the dreams that others deemed impossible.

****

Abhay stepped into the dimly-lit living room, the golden sunlight casting somber shadows on the worn out furniture. No amount of rationality could habituate him to congestion in the public transportation after laying in the lap of luxury for the first two decades of his life.

Heaving a sigh, he dropped his bag on the floor and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. The events of the day had left him drained, both physically and emotionally. The transition from privilege to penury had been a hard pill to swallow and remorse had only made the pill more difficult to swallow.

As he made his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, his eyes fell upon the framed photograph over the makeshift dining table. It was a picture from happier times, capturing a moment of pure joy and laughter. In it, his father stood with arms outstretched, a smile playing on his lips, while Abhay and his mother huddled close, their faces radiant with happiness.

Memories flooded back, bittersweet reminders of a life that now seemed like a distant dream. The wealth and opulence that once surrounded him had crumbled away, leaving behind only remnants of a past he could never reclaim.

"Ah, Abhay," his father grumbled, his voice barely audible above the steady ticking of an ancient grandfather clock. "Back from another interview, I see."

Abhay hesitated, noting the bitterness that clung to his father's words like cobwebs in a long-abandoned house. He clenched his fists, fighting the impulse to lash out at the man whose pride had led them to this point.

Instead, Abhay took a deep breath, steadying himself against the wave of resentment threatening to consume him. He knew that beneath his father's gruff exterior lay a man haunted by his own mistakes, a man who had once been a pillar of strength in Abhay's life before the cracks began to show.

"Yes, Papa," Abhay replied, his voice calm yet tinged with a hint of reproach.

Rishi Malhotra peered at his son through weary eyes, the lines etched on his face deepening with each passing day. "Do you think this one will be any different?" he asked, his tone a mixture of resignation and skepticism.

Abhay met his father's gaze, the weight of their shared failures hanging heavily between them like a shroud. "I have to believe that it will, Papa," he said softly. "There's nothing to gain by giving up."

As the words hung in the air between them, a heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic filtering in through the open window. Rishi Malhotra regarded his son with a mix of admiration and regret, his weathered features betraying a flicker of pride at Abhay's unwavering determination.

"You have always been resilient, Abhay," he murmured, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "More so than I ever was."

Abhay felt a swell of emotion rise within him, tempered by years of longing for his father's approval. He crossed the room in a few swift strides, kneeling before Rishi and meeting his gaze with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

"Papa, I know it's not easy for you either, but we must keep moving forward."

"Forward?" Rishi scoffed, his once-commanding eyes now clouded with self-loathing. "How can we move forward when every step I take feels tainted by the weight of my past mistakes?"

Abhay's heart ached at his father's words, the raw pain etched in every line of Rishi's face piercing through Abhay's own armor of resilience. He reached out a trembling hand and placed it on his father's shoulder, feeling the weight of their shared burdens settling between them like an unbreakable chain.

"Because we have no other choice," Abhay replied, his voice firm yet gentle.

Rishi's eyes met his son's, a tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface as he grappled with the ghosts of his past. There was a flicker of something akin to hope in Abhay's unwavering gaze, a glimmer of light cutting through the darkness that had shrouded them for so long. For all his faults and failings, Rishi found solace in the knowledge that his son had not given up like he had.

"You remind me so much of your mother, Abhay," Rishi whispered, his voice ragged with unshed tears. "She... she could make sense of situations and do what was required to be done."

Abhay felt a lump form in his throat at the mention of his mother, a woman whose memory still held a sacred place in his heart. She had been the anchor that steadied their turbulent ship, her gentle spirit a guiding force that had held their family together through the darkest of times. In her absence, Abhay had tried to embody her strength and wisdom, but the weight of his father's bitterness and misdirected self-loathing often threatened to drag him under.

"I miss her too, Papa," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion. "I know she would want us to keep moving forward, to find a way out of this darkness."

Rishi's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he listened to Abhay's words, the memories of his late wife flooding back with a bittersweet intensity. He reached out and grasped Abhay's hand in a tight grip, drawing strength from the son who reflected so much of the woman they had both loved and lost.

"You're right, my boy," Rishi whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "She would have been our guiding light in these dark times. We must honor her memory by finding the courage to forge ahead, no matter how difficult the path may be."