“You know…” he begins, “when you were a little girl, all you ever wanted to do was write stories about those tiny fights you’d jump into at school.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “You were so young, but so fearless. Always standing up for someone. Always trying to fix things that weren’t even yours to fix.” He shakes his head as he continues. “And then you’d come home, sit with your diary, and write it all down.” He glances at me, his eyes softening. “I would always tell your mom that you’re the kind of girl who’ll spend her whole life chasing trouble just because you believe you can save everyone. And the scary part is…” Hepauses, patting my cheek. “You’re still jumping into trouble, and writing about it.”
I swallow hard. “Someone has to, Papa.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” he adds quickly, his voice softening at the edges. “I know you’re my brave girl. But…” He holds my gaze, and there’s something vulnerable there, something only fathers carry. “I guess being a father means I can never stop worrying about you. And now…” His throat works as he swallows. “Now the reasons are bigger. And so is my fear of something happening to you.”
I know exactly what he wants to warn me about, even if he doesn’t say it outright. He knows I’ve been digging into something involving the Rathores, even though I never gave him the details. I never told him about the confrontation at the guest house either. All he knows is that I’m working on an article about them, and that’s enough to worry him.
“You know you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me,” I say, taking his hands in mine. “Papa, I just want to do what’s right.”
“I know,” he breathes in slowly, the kind of breath that carries both pride and fear. “Just… remember, beta. No matter what truth you’re chasing, come home to us. Always.”
My throat tightens. Before I can respond, the door pushes open.
“What secret meeting is happening between father and daughter without me?” Mom walks in with a dramatic flair. “And you—” she points at Papa, “—did you ask her if she wanted coffee?”
Papa rolls his eyes. “It’s eleven at night! Who drinks coffee at this time?”
“She does,” Mom fires back. “Especially when she’s stressed.”
“I’mnotstressed,” I protest.
Both of them stare at me like I’ve just told them I’m moving to Mars.
Mom sits on my other side. “You have been on your laptop since you got back from work and haven’t had anything to eat or drink. That is absolutely stressed behaviour.”
I groan. “Can the two of you not gang up on me?”
Dad pats my cheek. “Beta, we’re parents. It’s in our job description.”
“And you’re our only child,” Mom adds. “Which means double the nagging.”
I laugh despite myself.
Dad eyes my laptop. “You can work on your article. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “I promise.”
Mom smiles at me. “And promise to take breaks.”
Dad scoffs. “She won’t. She’s too stubborn to ever listen to that.”
“Oh, likeyoulisten?” Mom shoots back. “Last week you said you’d rest, but instead you reorganised the entire garage and nearly broke your back—”
“That’s different!” Dad argues. “The garage was a mess!”
Mom pokes him in the arm. “You’re always full of excuses when it comes to justifying yourself.”
“And you married me anyway,” he says smugly.
“Here we go.” I roll my eyes, grinning as the two of them continue their fun-loving bickering. The kind I grew up watching. The kind that made me believe in love, even after years of marriage.
Dad finally presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Goodnight, beta.”
Mom leans in, cupping my cheek before kissing my forehead. “Goodnight, beta.”
“Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Papa.” I smile as they step out of the room.
Once Dad closes the door behind them, I wait a few seconds. Then I open my laptop again.
