Chapter 20 Setting the boundries
Neel POV:
I noticed the change in Tara’s behaviour before I understood it.
It wasn’t something obvious. No raised voices. No arguments. No accusations. No stuff slaming….she never did anything like that, or should I say, she was too nice to react to any situation like that. That’s what worried me more. It was just small fractures. Hairline cracks that crept into the house and settled into the silence between Tara and me.
It began with pauses.
A hesitation before Tara answered when I spoke to her about anything. A delay before she reached for my hand. The way her eyes lingered on me, as if she was trying to read something I hadn’t said.
This evening, rain pressed softly against the windows. The clinic had drained me…..back-to-back cases, complicated hybrids, one emergency that refused to stabilize….and all I wanted was quiet. Home. Familiar sounds.
The low hum of the kettle.
Voices in the kitchen, and of course, Tara beside me.
I stepped inside the house and slowed without meaning to.
Tasha stood near the counter, her back half-turned to me. Tara was across from her, arms folded loosely, listening. The air between them felt… tight. Not hostile. Just alert or cautious…. or uncomfortable. Like a string pulled too far.
Tasha was speaking.
“…I don’t mean it like that,” she said softly. “I just worry sometimes. About him.”
Tara smiled faintly. “You don’t have to. Neel can take care of himself.”
“I know,” Tasha replied. Her voice stayed gentle. Thoughtful. “I just see how much he gives. Even when it costs him.”
That was true. Too true.
I cleared my throat, stepping fully into the room. “Am I being discussed like a case file again?”
Tara turned first. “We were just talking.”
Tasha looked at me next. Her expression shifted instantly…concern smoothing into relief. “You’re home earlier.”
“Barely,” I said.
She studied my face like she always did, eyes flicking to the faint bruise under my jaw that I accidently received from my patient, the tension in my shoulders. “You didn’t eat, did you?” She asked with a little too much concern.
“I will.” I didn’t look at her.
Tara glanced between us, something unreadable crossing her face. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” she said, reaching for her bag. “I should get some rest.”
“You’re not staying for tea?” I asked.
She hesitated. Just for a second. “Not tonight.”
She kissed my cheek. It was light. Careful. When she passed Tasha, she paused. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Tasha replied, smiling.
The door closed behind Tara with a soft click.
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.
“You didn’t do anything to upset her, did you?” I said.
Tasha turned to the kettle, pouring water into two cups. “I wasn’t trying to.”
“Hmmm…..”
She handed me a mug. Our fingers brushed. Her skin was warmer than it should’ve been. That alone confused me.
“She worries,” Tasha said, staring into her tea. “I can feel it.”
“That’s normal.”
“Is it?” She tilted her head slightly. “She didn’t seem worried when I first came.”
I frowned. “She’s adjusting.”
Tasha nodded slowly. “Of course.”
She didn’t say anything else, but the thought lingered. It followed me later, into bed, into the next morning, into the days after.
A week passed.
Then another.
The tension grew quieter, sharper.
Tara started asking questions that felt… sideways.
“You spend a lot of time with her,” she said one evening, not accusing, just observing.
“She needs help.”
“I know. I just—” She stopped herself. Smiled. “It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
I could feel it when she stood farther away. When she stopped telling me about her day unless I asked. When she watched Tasha instead of speaking to her.
And Tasha noticed.
She always noticed.
One afternoon, I came home early to find Tasha sitting alone in the living room, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing.
“Where’s Tara?” I asked.
“She went for a walk,” she said. Her voice was small. Too small.
“You okay?”
She hesitated. Then shook her head. “I think she hates me.”
“She doesn’t.”
“She barely looks at me anymore.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve. “I try to stay out of the way. I really do.”
I sat across from her. “You’re not in the way.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, shining. “I don’t want to ruin anything.”
“You’re not.”
“But I can feel it,” she whispered. “She thinks you choose me over her.”
“That’s not true.” My brows now squinted.
“She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t have to.” Tasha swallowed. “I think she thinks I’m replacing her.”
The idea unsettled me. “She knows better.”
“Does she?” Tasha asked gently. “She sees how you watch over me. How you stay up when I can’t sleep. How you cancel plans.”
“I’d do that for anyone who needed it.”
Her lips trembled. “I wish I believed that.”
At night, Tara confronted me….not directly. Never directly.
“You don’t have to fix everyone,” she said while folding laundry. “Sometimes people need space.”
“Tasha can’t be alone right now.”
“She’s stronger than you think.”
The words struck wrong. “You don’t know what she’s dealing with.”
Tara’s hands stilled. “And you do?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again.
“I just feel…” She exhaled. “Like there’s something happening in this house that I’m not part of.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I’m not blaming you,” she said quickly. “I just want to understand where I fit.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
The realization came slowly about Tasha.
Not as a revelation, but as a discomfort that refused to leave.
Tasha’s timing was always perfect.
She cried when Tara was distant. She withdrew when Tara tried to be kind. She confided in me only after Tara had questioned something. Every moment felt… placed.
That night, I stood outside Tasha’s room for a long time before knocking.
She opened the door instantly, as if she’d been waiting.
“Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
Her expression shifted….guarded, then soft. “Did I do something wrong?”
I stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of earth and rain. She sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap.
“Tasha,” I said carefully, “I think we need to talk about boundaries.”
Her eyes flickered.
“I care about you,” I continued. “I want you safe. But lately… things between Tara and me have changed.”
She looked down. “I knew it.”
“I don’t think it’s intentional,” I said quickly. “But I think… your presence is affecting things more than it should.”
Her breathing slowed. Too slow.
“I never asked you to choose me,” she said.
“I know.”
“I never wanted to come between you.”
“I know,” I repeated. “That’s why I think it might be best if I find you a place nearby. Somewhere safe. You can still come to me. I’ll still help you.”
Silence stretched.
Then—
Her eyes lifted.
They glowed.
Not bright. Not blazing.
Red.
The air shifted. My skin prickled.
She blinked, and it was gone.
“If that’s what you want,” she said calmly.
Relief loosened my chest. “It’s what’s best.”
She nodded once. “I understand.”
She stood and moved past me toward the door. “Goodnight, Neel.”
“Goodnight.”
I watched her walk away, unease settling deep in my gut.
Behind the closed door, someth
ing in the house felt… wrong.
And I knew now….too late…that whatever line I’d tried to draw, Tasha had already crossed it.And after what she had become,I knew...she won't let this decision slide.