Chapter 8

47 4 4
                                    

Diya's POV

Two years ago ...

"May I ?"

"Come in , dad"  I sob through the door , failing miserably at hiding my tears .

"Oh , sweetie , Whats wrong?"  He says with concern evident in voice . He always cared for me . More than mom actually . They're both workaholics but dad still finds time to check up on me every once in a while . Sometimes it annoys the shit out of me but when it comes to moments like this , I'm very much glad that he does .

"I don't know , everything ?"
Even though he knows what I'm talking about , he chose to question me . And I know its not because he wants me to talk  to him but  because he is very much confused on what to say on this breakdown scenario . He really doesn't express his feelings much , just another cruel side effect of  workaholism.

Putting aside the grudges on his absence in my life , I decided to answer him without hesitation.

"Its everything , dad. its been two years and I'm still not over Saira . I know I should accept that I lost her , but I cant. I dont understand why and its toying with my mind and now I'm on the brim of losing Zarah too. she's becoming more and more reliable on drugs. No matter how much I try to mend her wounds , it just tears it more open . The more days pass , the more she detaches herself from me . I hate what she is doing to herself , I hate what thats doing to me".

Finding more sentences to describe my thoughts becomes extremely difficult from word to word , the elevating pitch of my voice alarms my father.
My head lay low ,just enough for my hands to drag through the scalp. The aggression of the drags increase with every thought coursing inside. Legs curled up to my chest  , I glance to my equally stunned father.
I see fear rather than sympathy or pity. After a split second I see something else. Determination?

The Fine LineWhere stories live. Discover now