ARYA! LET HER GO…

Summary :

“In a tender but strained family, two sisters, facing their mother’s terminal illness, find themselves on opposing sides of a desperate battle. The elder sister, terrified of losing her mother, clings to the hope of a cure. She pushes for every treatment, every medication, every experimental procedure, she refuses to let go, fearing that her mother is all she has left. The younger sister longs to honor their mother’s final days with peace and dignity, sees the endless cycle of pain, the stolen moments of peace, the slow erosion of their mother’s spirit. She yearns to offer comfort, to share precious memories in her final days, a wish that grows only more distant as her sister’s methods intensify. Their bond weakens as the elder’s determination clashes with the younger’s plea to let their mother go in peace, and each is left struggling with what it truly means to love someone on the edge of life and death”.

CHAPTER 1 : THE BEGINNING : Arya, Mom & Me.

It was the day Dad left us. I remember watching him walk out the door, his shoulders slumped, a worn duffel bag slung over his arm, I remember crying my eyes out, wishing for some reflection of my own pain in their faces, but Mom and Arya just stood there, their expressions blank. I think that was the day everything changed for me, Mom, and my sister, Arya. Arya had never been close to Dad, and something happened between them—something involving Mom, too. It was a secret I was never supposed to know. That secret became a wall that kept me on the outside, That was the day Arya, Mom, and I became… different.

Arya was never close to Dad. There was always something unspoken between them, a tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. And then, after he left, that same fog seemed to settle between Arya and me. It was like a secret had been drawn between them, a line I wasn’t allowed to cross. After him leaving, any “younger sibling privilege” I had faded away. All the extra love and care that used to come to me now went to Arya. She and Mom became closer, sharing a bond I couldn’t break into, even though I tried. I was still happy for them, still loved them both, but I’d be lying if I said that seeing them that way didn’t make me feel…strange. I even hated to admit that with Dad gone, the house somehow felt more at ease. Sure, Mom was struggling, but I saw Arya doing everything she could to support her, well she was also the reason mom was at this position isn’t it.

Arya made a promise to Mom that she would take care of us. “Don’t worry, Mama,” she’d say, her voice so sure it almost felt like a guarantee. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to struggle for long.” And it was clear Arya meant it. She and Mom became inseparable. I was still there, of course, trying to be happy, trying to pretend that the house didn’t feel emptier without Dad. 

Mom was struggling, I could see it in her tired eyes and forced smiles. But Arya was always there, a whirlwind of support and fierce determination.

Arya decided she would become a doctor. She wanted to help people, she said, people like her. I didn’t really know what she meant by that, but it became her whole world. 

She promised Mom she’d take care of us, that the struggle wouldn’t last forever, from this moment on, she was unstoppable. Top of her class, always studying, never going out. When Mom came home from work, Arya would have a hot meal waiting, the aroma of spices filling the house. I wanted to help Mom too, but Arya never left anything for me to do. I wanted to be part of their world, their shared laughter and quiet conversations over dinner. I asked Arya a few times if I could help, but she’d always brushed me aside. “Focus on your studies,” she’d say, “this isn’t the life I want for you.”

But what was wrong with this life? Helping Mom, sharing meals, being close. I wanted to do cook something nice for her, too, so she could say, “This is delicious. Who made it?” And I’d proudly tell her it was me, and we’d all share a smile together, just once. But instead, it was always Arya and Mom in their own little world, and I was just there, in the background, feeling like I was living in a different world.

During those lonely evenings, I missed Dad fiercely. He used to hug me tight, cook silly meals with faces on them, let me make a mess in the kitchen while we laughed – like Arya and Mom did now. It was almost like Arya took Dad’s place, and I didn’t understand why. She wouldn’t tell me, either. Sometimes when I was with Dad, Arya would come and pull me away from him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she was jealous of us. I think…I think she was, and for some reason, knowing that felt oddly satisfying.

Years passed. I grew accustomed to the distance, to the sight of those two powerful women supporting each other. I was inspired by them, even though I felt shut out. over time, I stopped trying to be part of their world. I made friends outside, found a life of my own that I started to enjoy. Hate to admit it but when Mom and Arya asked about my day, a rare flicker of warmth would spark within me. Those were the days I felt like I belonged, like I was part of their family again. 

Arya would come to my room, apologizing for being distant, for Mom working so much, for keeping the truth about Dad hidden. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” she’d promise. But at fourteen, how much older did I need to be? I made a silent vow never to ask, to wait until they were ready because I of course was ready.

“You’re the best sister,” Arya would say, her voice softening. “Focus on your studies, have fun. I couldn’t have that for myself.” She talked about the medical school entrance exam, about how she’d buy me “everything I deserved”— I am thinking it probably is the new nike shoes or something.

Those were the days I craved reassurance, a reminder that I mattered. And when it came, in the form of Arya’s apologies or Mom’s loving gaze, I would cry. When Mom got home, she’d already know what had happened. Arya must’ve told her. She’d stand in my doorway, the one I used to get when Dad was around, back when all her attention was on me. 

“Don’t stand there, Mom,” I’d mumble, embarrassed by my tears. “Come in or say goodnight.”

She’d come in, sit beside my bed, and look at me with such love that the tears would flow freely. I’d cry until I fell asleep, her hand stroking my hair.

One of the reasons why I did not become a crazy teenager like my friends was I think it’s because of those rare moments, because of the reassurance from both Arya and Mom, that I managed to stay on track given my history and circumstances I definitely qualify for strange tattoos and piercing with addiction of some sort of drugs.  Unlike a lot of teenagers I knew, I never got into trouble. My friends might try things, stuff I knew was bad, but I never did, I focused on studying, I didn’t know how studying helped support someone, but it seemed to work for Arya. I wasn’t as brilliant as her, but my good grades brought smiles to their faces. And that, I realized, was my way of supporting them.

As long as I knew they loved me, I could keep waiting, studying, quietly hoping that one day I’d be part of their world again. My role in this family was different, but it was mine to play. I was the observer, silently watching the two people I loved most in the world build something I couldn’t fully understand. For a time, it was enough—until it wasn’t. Now, I’m haunted by the thought that if I had been more assertive, demanded a place in their lives, I might have found a voice, a say in what was happening. But instead, I stayed on the periphery, helpless as Arya took ownership of Mom’s care, of Mom’s suffering. It feels as though they’re bound together in an agonizing dance, while I remain forever excluded. I should have forced my way in, made them see me, hear me. Maybe then, I could have stopped this, shielded Mom from these horrors unfolding As long as I knew they loved me, I could keep waiting, studying, quietly hoping that one day I’d be part of their world again. My role in this family was different, but it was mine to play. I was the observer, silently watching the two people I loved most in the world build something I couldn’t fully understand. For a time, it was enough—until it wasn’t. Now, I’m haunted by the thought that if I had been more assertive, demanded a place in their lives, I might have found a voice, a say in what was happening. But instead, I stayed on the periphery, helpless as Arya took ownership of Mom’s care, of Mom’s suffering. It feels as though they’re bound together in an agonizing dance, while I remain forever excluded. I should have forced my way in, made them see me, hear me. Maybe then, I could have stopped this, shielded Mom from these horrors unfolding within our family. But now, I know there is no stopping Arya, and that thought terrifies me..