The Intolerable Rajvanshis [On Hold]

9. ɢᴏ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀʏ, ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ

Flashback

Arzoo sat cross-legged on the creaky wooden floor of her room, clutching the old rotary phone. The dial felt cool against her trembling fingers. She had hidden the phone beneath her pillow, away from her mother's watchful eyes. The moon peeked through the curtains, casting a silvery glow on the faded wallpaper.

Her father's face was a distant memory—a blur of laughter, bedtime stories, and warm embraces. But tonight, she needed answers. She needed to hear his voice, even if it meant reopening old wounds.

The phone rang twice, and then a familiar voice crackled through the line. "Hello?" Her father's tone was guarded, as if he expected someone else.

"Papa," Arzoo whispered, her heart racing. "It's me."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. She imagined him sitting in a dimly lit room, guilt gnawing at his conscience. "Arzoo," he finally said, his voice brittle. "Why are you calling?"

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Why did you leave us? Why did you choose her over Mom and us?"

His laughter echoed through the phone, bitter and hollow. "Arzoo, my little dove," he said, "life isn't as simple as black and white. Your mother—she suffocated me. She was a tempest, tearing through our home, leaving destruction in her wake."

"But we loved you," Arzoo protested. "We needed you."

"Love?" His voice dripped with disdain. "Your mother's love was like quicksand. It pulled me down, consumed me. I had to escape."

Arzoo's tears blurred her vision. "You're lying. You left because of her, not us."

"Listen carefully, Arzoo." His words were venomous now. "Your mother was a storm, but you—you were the lightning that struck me. You reminded me of her every day—the same stubbornness, the same fire. I couldn't bear it."

"But we were just children," Arzoo whispered. "We didn't ask for this."

"You think life cares about fairness?" he spat. "I found solace in another woman's arms. She was my refuge, my sanctuary. Your mother—she drove me away."