Hateship

11.

When she arrived home, the familiar scent of sandalwood and old books enveloped her. She stepped inside, her heart racing as she called out, "Dad?"

"In the living room!" he replied.

As she entered the living room, she found her father sitting on the couch, a stack of papers spread out before him. He looked up, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

"Hey," he said, a tentative smile breaking through his serious demeanor. "I'm glad you came."

"Yeah," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I'd give it a shot."

He gestured for her to sit, and she took a seat across from him, the distance between them feeling both comforting and suffocating. "I made some tea," he said, standing up to pour a cup. "I thought you might like some."

"Thanks," she said, accepting the cup he handed her. The warmth seeped into her hands, grounding her in the moment.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their tea, the tension palpable. "So... what did you want to talk about?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

Her father sighed, setting his cup down. "I wanted to apologize for how I've handled things. I know I haven't been the easiest person to talk to about your choices. I just... wanted what I thought was best for you. But I realize now that I may have pushed too hard."

Aarohi felt a flicker of surprise at his admission. "I appreciate that, Dad. It's just been hard for me to feel like I have a say in my own life."

"I understand," he said, his voice steady. "I've been reflecting on our conversations, and I see how my expectations have overshadowed your dreams. I want to support you, not dictate your path."

Aarohi nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering frustration. "It's just that I need to figure things out on my own. I don't want to feel pressured into making decisions."

Her father leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I get that. I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what you choose. I just want you to be happy."

"Thank you," she replied, her heart softening. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

Her father's expression softened, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. " I've been so focused on my fears that I didn't consider your dreams. I'm sorry for that."

Aarohi felt a rush of emotions—anger, sadness, and a flicker of hope. "It's not just about law, Dad. It's about feeling like I have a voice, like my choices matter."

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Then let's talk about it. What do you want to do? What are your dreams?"

Aarohi took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "I want to advocate for those who can't advocate for themselves. I want to work in human rights law. I want to make a difference."

Her father's eyes widened slightly, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. "Human rights law... that's a noble pursuit. It's not what I expected, but I can see why it matters to you."

Aarohi felt a surge of relief. "It's my passion, Dad. I want to help people, to fight for justice."

He leaned back, contemplating her words. "Then let's figure out how to make that happen. I may not understand everything about it, but I want to support you."

Aarohi's heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Really? You mean that?"

"Of course," he said, a smile breaking through. "I may not have all the answers, but I want to be there for you. Let's start fresh."