Book 2 of Legend of korra: Eclipse

Chapter 9: Echoes of Discord: A Melancholy Reckoning

Upon arriving home, Asami noticed another car parked outside. Curious, she exited her own vehicle and entered her house, only to find Korra and Opal abruptly ceasing their laughter upon her arrival. Opal shot her a mean glance, leaving Asami puzzled as she questioned, "What's going on?" Korra intervened by signaling to Opal to keep quiet, shaking her head in a silent plea. Opal obliged, bidding goodnight to Korra before leaving, casting a cold look at Asami as she departed, leaving an unspoken tension in the room.

In a cold tone, Korra informed Asami, "Your food is on the table." Asami, sensing the distance in Korra's demeanor, questioned, "Did you already eat?" Korra confirmed that she had, prompting a pang of hurt in Asami as she expressed, "But...we always eat together." Korra, focused on her homework, responded, "I already ate, and I have homework to do." The exchange left a palpable sense of disconnection between them, their usual shared meals now a distant memory.

Concern etched on her face, Asami gently inquired, "Korra, what's wrong?" Korra, feeling defensive, snapped back, "Why would anything be wrong? I'm just doing my homework." Despite Korra's dismissive response, Asami, sensing something amiss, took the bold step of removing Korra's pen from her hand. "Because you normally like to eat together." Asami stated. Locking eyes with Korra, she pressed on, asking once more, "What's really bothering you?" The tension in the room palpable as they faced each other, their unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Korra let out a sigh before questioning Asami about the project that kept her out late. Asami's confusion was evident as she responded, "Are you really upset that I came home late when I already told you I would be? It's a project I can't discuss, but I was working with some other interns in the office." Korra's frustration mounted as she interjected, "But that's not the real story now is it?" Her voice tinged with emotion, Korra pushed back against Asami's apparent obliviousness. Asami continued to feign confusion, as if she didn't understand Korra's point. With a resigned nod, "Ok." Korra says calmly as she reaches for her phone, deciding to call Bolin.

Korra: "Hey Bo, how's it going?"

Bolin: "Hey Kor, I'm good. What's going on?"

Korra looks over at Asami. "Asami hasn't made it home yet. Are you still working on the project?"

Bolin hesitates before responding, "Y-yeah, she's still here." Chuckling nervously.

Korra nodded as if Bolin could see her, responding, "Okay, thanks Bo. I'll catch you later." With a sigh, she ended the call, her frustration simmering in the silence. Before Asami could offer an explanation, Korra cut in, her voice laced with tension, "I already know where you went, Asami. I saw you at the coffee shop with Mako." Asami's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by Korra's revelation. "Korra, it's not what you think," she began, her voice tinged with urgency.

In the heat of the moment, Korra's sharp accusation pierced the air, "No, it's exactly what I think. Lying to me, hanging out with your ex, who, let me remind you, was involved in my parents' murder!" Asami, visibly shaken, attempted to bridge the widening gap between them, only to be met with Korra's defensive stance. The tension thickened as Korra's resolve solidified, demanding solitude as she urged Asami to depart. "I don't even care anymore...just leave me alone." Korra gathered her belongings and ascended the stairs, seeking refuge in her parents' room. As the door sealed shut with an airbending gesture, the weight of their unresolved conflict hung heavy in the air, suffocating any chance of reconciliation in that moment of discord.

In the midst of the heated argument, Asami's frustration boiled over as she followed Korra upstairs, banging on the door with a sense of urgency. "You lied to me as well Korra!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the tense silence. Korra's expression shifted to annoyance as she retorted, "I was going to tell you about Kaito. Leave me alone!" Unwilling to back down, Asami's determination drove her to pick the lock and boldly enter the room, a storm of emotions swirling between them, threatening to unravel the fragile balance of their relationship.

In the midst of the heated argument, emotions running high, Korra's voice thundered with accusation, "You're still hanging out with a murderer, Asami! The one involved in my parents' death!" Asami, desperate to salvage their relationship, pleaded, "He's willing to change. We can't keep dwelling on the past." The words pierced through Korra's defenses, triggering a torrent of raw emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, "I CAN'T JUST MOVE ON WHEN MY PARENTS ARE DEAD!" The weight of her loss hung heavy in the air, driving a painful wedge between them that seemed insurmountable in that moment of raw vulnerability.

Asami's heart shattered as she witnessed Korra's uncharacteristic outburst, the pain evident in her eyes as she absorbed the weight of Korra's words. With a heavy heart, she offered another heartfelt apology, her voice trembling with remorse. As a tear traced a path down Asami's cheek, she took a tentative step towards Korra, her own emotions raw and exposed. "Korra, I'm so sorry," she whispered, the words heavy with regret and a desperate plea for understanding.

"Can you just get out?" Korra's voice was tinged with frustration as she growled out the words, her emotions still raw. "You can sleep in my room. I'm staying here," she added, her tone firm. Asami's heart sank at the dismissal but nodded slowly, recognizing the need for space in that moment. Silently, she left Korra and retreated to their bedroom, the weight of the situation heavy on her shoulders. Alone in the room, tears cascading down her face, she collapsed onto Korra's pillow, berating herself in a whisper, "I'm such an asshole... an idiot." The room enveloped her in a cocoon of regret and self-blame as she sought solace in her own solitude.