TW: suicidal thoughts.
I was half awake when I wrote this while listening to jaaney tamannah😶🌫️
___
It was the words that hurt more than the slap. She wished for him to take them back, she was Waqas Ahmed's daughter, himmat waali, hosle waali, apni marzi rakhne waali Meerab.
But now he was denying it all. Denying that she was his daughter. Denying that they were of the same blood. It was a 'cuss', was she a bastard?
He was denying his association to her because she said 'No' to Murtasim. It was unbelievable. Her father wasn't this insensitive for years he had fought cases, some proving paternity. He wasn't the type to lie.
But she wished it was a lie. Something he said out of anger, something he said to hurt her.
"Aap.. aap ye isliye keh rahey kyuki maine Murtasim se nikkah krne se mana krdiya?"
It was too heavy for her to digest. This unknown family friend's son was more important than her, that he denied his paternity to her.
"Nahi... yahi sach hai".
Her eyes teared up as he looked into her eyes, there was truth, there was guilt and there was hopelessness.
He was tired of hiding the truth, tired of concealing her identity, Waqas could no longer protect her. He had failed as a father, the hands that once cradled her, had striked her.
"Nahi hu mai tumhara baap"...
He repeated now softly, his shoulder hunching in dispair as Meerab processed his words.
"Aapki beti nahi hu ... toh kon hu mai?"
Her head was spinning, the thoughts, the pain in her heart everything overwhelming her.
"Lawaris hu?"
"Bin baap ki aullad hu? Kon hu mai? Kiski beti hu?"
----
Her eyes flew open and she founds herself sleeping on the side of the bed. There were dried up tears in her eyes.
Her adopted parents had always showered her with love, she was their daughter, but her father had given up so easily.
"Kon hu mai?"
She couldn't hold back the tears anymore as they slid down her cheeks. As an only child her parents listened to her every wishes and fulfilled them. She was their princess, she never thought that this situation could ever happen.
Being forced to marry your conservative cousin with 'puraney khayalat' and living in a suffocating haveli where nobody liked her was no better than her personal hell.
She couldn't live in this hell for life. She couldn't marry that man, he was a mother's son, would never listen to her. She would soon be turned into Maa Begum's puppet.
"No..."
She couldn't allow that to happen, she had always been a good daughter, was the topper of her batch, never did anything that could wound their honour.
She had given up twenty one years of her life following their words and now they wanted her to give up the rest of it to a family she had hated.
She couldn't be Maa Begum's puppet, Murtasim's wife or Anwar's daughter.
She wasn't Waqas Ahmed's daughter, then the memories need not live. Picking up the album she controlled her tears and lit it.
The fire was similar to the one in her eyes, it burnt like her heart did, the memories turning into ashes. The ashes and smoke entered her eyes, her vision was blurry, it was heard to breath. But not suffocating anymore.
