Chapter Eleven
May 7th, 2012
The duplex feels hollow.
Sara sits cross-legged on the couch, watching her mother pack essentials into boxes. Stark Tower – or what remained of it – would be their temporary home while the city recovered, even if it’s mangled (ish). Their own building sustained damage during the battle, and Tony insisted they stay with him.
“Just what we need for now,” Sandhya mutters in Telugu, folding one of Sara’s hoodies. “The rest can wait.”
Harsha and Aurelio had arrived from Atlanta late two nights ago, and Sesha had finally arrived from NYU, but both twins are now at the funeral home, making arrangements. Sara had begged to stay home, unable to face the reality of planning her father’s funeral.
Her phone buzzes constantly:
Mei [10:15 AM]: We’re all thinking of you
Dylan [10:16 AM]: My dad’s organizing support for families affected by the battle
Zara [10:17 AM]: Let us know if you want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.
Sara couldn’t bring herself to respond. How could she explain that alongside her grief was this crushing guilt? That she could’ve helped but chose not to?
“Bangaaram,” Sandhya’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. “Help me with these photos?”
Sara moves to the wall of family pictures, carefully taking them down. Her hands tremble as she removes the photo from last Diwali – all of them in new clothes, Arun’s arm around her shoulders, his smile bright and proud.
“We need to talk,” Sandhya says suddenly, setting down the box she held. “About… everything.”
Sara’s heart rate picks up. “What do you mean by everything?”
“About Tony,” Sandhya sits on the couch, patting the space beside her. “About who you really are.”
Sara’s scared now. “Amma?”
“Sit, chinna. It’s time you knew the truth.”
Sara sits, her hands warming instinctively with nervous energy. She forces the flames down, but not before her mother notices.
“Your powers,” Sandhya smiles sadly. “They’ve always reminded me of him. The way Aniruddh’s mind burns so bright, always creating, always moving…”
“What are you saying?”
“I think you already know, Saranika.” Sandhya takes her daughter’s hands, not flinching at their warmth. “You’re so much like him. Your brilliance, your drive, even the way you scrunch your nose when you’re solving a problem…”
“Tony’s… my father?” The words felt strange in Sara’s mouth. “But Nanna…”
“Arun was your father in every way that matters,” Sandhya’s voice cracked. “He loved you so much, bangaaram. Never doubt that.”
“Does Tony Uncle know?” she feels weird calling him ‘Tony Uncle’ now.
“Since you were two.” Sandhya wipes her eyes. “We’ve both been protectign you, in our own ways. Him with the training, me with… everything else.” She kept that secret for nearly fifteen years now.
Sara’s mind races, remembering every interaction with Tony in a new light. The pride in his eyes when she mastered a new skill, the way he’d sometimes start to reach for her then stop himself, all those unspoken words… She tried so hard to be mad but couldn’t bring herself to be.
“Why tell her now?” She asks calmly.
“Because secrets killed your father,” Sandhya’s voice hardens. “If we’d been honest from the start, if you’d been trained openly, maybe…” she trailed off. “No more secrets. Not between us.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Just us and Aniruddh. And… it needs to stay that way, chinna. For everyone’s safety.”
Sara nods, still processing. “What about…” she hesitates. “What about you and Tony Uncle?”
Sandhya’s breath catches. “That’s… complicated.”
“Because of the MIT thing? Or because of me?”
“You know about MIT?”
“I’m not blind, Amma,” Sara manages with a small smile. “I see how you look at each other. Even before… all this.”
A knock at the door interrupts them. Tony stands in the doorway, looking uncertain in a way Iron Man never did.
“The tower’s ready,” he says softly. “Happy’s downstairs with the car whenever you are.”
“Aniruddh,” Sandhya stands. “We were just…”
“Telling me the truth,” Sara finishes. She stands too, facing the man she now knows is her biological father. “All of it.”
Something flickers in Tony’s eyes – hope, fear, guilt, love. “Sara, I–”
She hugs him before he can finish, feeling his arms wrap around her automatically. It felt right for the first time in twelve years.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “About Arun, about everything…”
“Me too,” she pulls back, wiping her eyes. “But no more secrets, right?”
“No more secrets,” he agrees, then glances at Sandhya. “Well, most of them, anyway.” What is that supposed to mean?
The look that passed between them made Sara’s chest ache. There was so much history there, so much unspoken feeling.
“I should finish packing,” Sandhya says quickly, turning away. But not before Sara catches the tears in her eyes.
Tony steps forward instinctively, then stops himself. “Let me help,” he offers instead.
They work in silence for a while, carefully wrapping photos and memories. Sara watches her parents – both of them – move around each other with practiced care, never quite touching but always aware.
Her phone buzzes again:
Harsha [11:30 AM]: Almost done at the funeral home. Need anything?
Sara [11:31 AM]: Nope.
Sesha [11:31 AM]: We’ll get through this, Sara. Together.
Looking at her siblings’ messages, Sara feels a fresh wave of guilt. They didn’t know – couldn’t know – the full truth. About her powers, about Tony, about any of it.
“What do we tell people?” she asks suddenly. “About why we’re moving to the tower?”
“That Aniruddh’s helping an old friend’s family,” Sandhya replies. “It’s not unusual – he and your father were practically brothers.”
“Were they really?” Sara couldn’t help asking. “Even with… everything?”
“Your father – Arun – was the best man I’ve ever known,” Tony says quietly. “He loved you purely, completely, without question. Whatever was between your mother and me… it never changed that.”
Sandhya makes a small sound, quickly turning away. But not before Sara saw the way she looked at Tony – like she was seeing him for the first time all over again.
“We should go,” Sandhya says finally, her voice steady despite her red eyes. “The twins will meet us there.”
As they carry boxes down to Happy’s waiting car, Sara catches Tony watching her mother with an expression of years of longing and regret.
“You still love her,” Sara says quietly while Sandhya speaks with Happy.
Tony’s silence was answer enough.
“Does she know?”
“Some things,” Tony replies carefully, “are complicated even without secrets.”
Sara nods, understanding more than they probably realized. After all, she had her own complicated feelings to sort through – about Emma Stone posters and lingering glances at one specific girl in her online classes and questions she wasn’t ready to answer yet.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe some things need time.
As they drive through the battle-scarred city toward their new temporary home, Sara sits between her parents – one by birth, one by love, and both by choice. Outside, New York was already beginning to rebuild.
Maybe they could, too.
Her phone lights up with a few final messages:
Mei [12:00 PM]: Whenever you’re ready to talk, we’re here.
Dylan [12:00 PM]: About anything.
Zara [12:01 PM]: Absolutely anything.
Sara smiles slightly, typing back:
Sara [12:02 PM]: Thanks. There’s a lot to tell. When I’m ready.
She catches both Tony and Sandhya watching her in the car’s reflection – their daughter, in every way that matters. Their secret, their miracle, their bridge.
No more secrets, they’d said.
Well, maybe just a few. Just for now.
Until they were all ready for the whole truth.