In My Sister's Shadow (Book 1)

30. Road to truth

Thank you for all your messages of support. I truly cherish my readers loyalty and patience. As a gift, I have published an unusually long chapter. So please enjoy, vote and comment. xx

S.N.Mughal

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"There are two mistakes once can make along the road to truth,
not going all the way,
and not starting it."

Rays of light trickled past the clouds and the sky became clear. Soon, sunshine would seep through and light would emanate. That's how I felt, the truth bleeding through the grey and I would know everything. Today it was a cool day, so I kept my car windows closed allowing the warmth to build in my car. Ahead, was the Boathouse and Lake Park and I parked in the street. This was where I was told to wait. The road to the truth. I was waiting for Kash. It was 11: 17 am. He was already seventeen minutes late.

After I found the letter of repossession, I confronted Zayn the next day expecting an argument, a fight or something I can work with. However, Zayn was quiet. With his head bowed I couldn't argue with silence.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why the lies?" I waved the letters at him.

"I was ashamed. I couldn't do it-"

"I could have helped. We could have done something when the bank sent the letter."

Speck by speck, it was becoming clear. The misty cloud was clearing from my vision and I could see it, clear as daylight. Zayn had hidden many issues allowing it to build and fester. This channelled into mood swings, anger and his frantic behaviour, all a part of the stress he was brushing under the carpet. The mounting debts, our house at risk, Zayn was in denial believing he could sort it out with a few over time shifts. He was ashamed to admit it to himself, let alone speak to someone else compressed into a coil of pressure. As he sat on the sofa with his head in his hands, I hated myself for understanding him. I couldn't be angry at him, because he was struggling. The sky came down on him and I was beside him, holding it up trying to come to terms with it. How did he come to so much arears? It didn't make sense. He was working day and night, so how come he was in so much debt? Where was his money going? So many questions.

"What do we do now?" I stared at the bare wall. "There is only one way."

I didn't need to complete the sentence. Zayn understood.

"No, you're not taking my children to that house." Zayn protested. He flared up, rigid, tall and ready to protest.

"So, where will we go?"

"I will find a place. But I won't let you take my children away from me." I saw it, in his eyes, I was a threat. "I will fight for my children."

Zayn raced upstairs taking three steps at a time. He went through the chest of drawers throwing his shirts and clothes out like a thief.

"Zayn, you can come and see the kids. Dad won't stop you."

"You don't know him like I do." He went through his draw. "I don't trust him, and I will never let my children live in his house. They're mine. My responsibility. I'm their dad. I will find a place. If you want to go-go. I won't stop you. But you can't take my children."

His chilling response was a stark warning. There was no chance I could leave Zayn with the children. Where Zayn went, I had to go with him.

Zayn found what he was looking for. A folder with papers.