Sometimes it’s just being right, that defines everything about you.
” She had a long and fruitful life ” one of the relatives said as the wooden coffin passed him. They had gathered at her funeral, even after she had wished that no one did. She was such a recluse. An adamant one at that.
” Not really. She always complained about how she was wronged by her father ” the little girl declared about her seventy year old grandmother. The Little girl sat down on the floor.
The sixty year old woman looked at the empty photo frame, and tears rolled down her face. She was alone after being with that man for more than 20 years. Her husband had this weird habit of never l smiling when photographed. To him it was fake. The photo-frame reminded her of one of those pictures. Now their new home was her diary. The photo-frame wasn’t the only thing empty now.
” I don’t make such money, let’s pull it out ” the bearded man, who was the man’s son said with no remorse or guilt. The woman who couldn’t trust anyone because of the last revelation had turned cold. She hated, rather cursed her father for it. Why did he turn her into this distant person. Why? All the faith she had on him had destroyed her soul. And she nodded. And the ventilator plug got pulled out.
” Listen to me, you are my child, Sarah. Let there be no questions about it ” the fifty year old man paced around the hall, never looking at his pregnant daughter in the eye. She had questions. And he had answers. Or so he thought. But something told him that he’d never be able to explain it to her. It all had started decades ago, when he had seen an other woman expecting her first born. She stormed out of the sprawling mansion, and never came back. She never knew the answers. He could never tell her.
” I don’t care ” she spat back at the informant. He was paid for finding her roots. The DNA should’ve matched. But then it didn’t. The informant, a bespectacled Detective, threw at her after two years, information that confirmed one thing. The DNA would never match. She wasn’t her father’s daughter. She denied that fact for days. Cursed herself for the need of blood. Cursed that accident. Cursed that random woman who came asking. How did she come to know, no one knew.
The nurse in the maternity ward had agreed to take ten thousands. A huge amount of money. She would never need a paisa more. Ever. The still born that his wife had, would be replaced by a healthy baby. Simple. She could be raised in luxury. Zara she would be called. She could be everything or anyone. Only that her biological parents would never know. Only he , would know the truth. He started playing her story. She would grow up, but eventually from some source she would find out. She would be devastated, even hate him. She would grow cold. Distant herself from emotions. Even die with discontent. He would’ve destroyed her as person. He wasn’t that. Her whole story as he expected to unfold, stopped him in his step. And he chose the still born.
Copyright/Author: Siddharth Naidu