A king, realizing his incompetence,

can either delegate or abdicate his duties.

A father can do neither.

If only sons could see the paradox,

they would understand the dilemma.

- Marlene Dietrich

_________________________

Face it

Misha's POV

Sometimes guilt makes us feel so low that we cannot face the person we misunderstood for years. I did feel that guilt that was eating me up every moment now.

Was my father a very good actor or was it just me who was a fool for not seeing his emptiness?

The next morning I went to college avoiding my confrontation with Dad. Yes, I had questions for him, but I feel that those answers will be answered once I complete reading the diary. 

But I have this sudden eagerness to be with him and give him a big hug for protecting me all these years without my knowledge. This is what even Mom asked me to do in that diary. I don't know the whole story, but whatever it was it seemed to be very serious.

Early in college, I decided to drown myself in books, so I went to the library and began studying for my upcoming exams. After trying a lot to concentrate, I gave up. Avoiding a situation was never my style, and that too when it was important to solve the mess that has created a hole between a father and a daughter for years.

This style of mine was also one of the results of my father's sacrifice.

Destiny plays a cruel role when it comes to the protection of a weak person. Though the results are guaranteed, it takes a lot of sacrifices. Becoming a stone-hearted person is not a choice but a side-effect of protecting others or oneself from the cruel world.

"Hey nerd," a familiar voice said as he sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"I am not a nerd," I said, giving him a playful glare.

"Oo ya! So...um..."

"I'm fine Karan. I know I just overreacted yesterday and I'm sorry for that. I got emotional and just... I hope your parents don't take me wrong," I said in almost one breath.

"Relax! They understand."

After that, there was a long uncomfortable silence between us. He was staring at me while I was looking down at the book I was studying. Neither of us spoke before the bell rang indicating that our first class was going to begin.

Guilt can be a relentless burden, a relentless weight that drags us down to depths we never thought possible. It's the kind of guilt that gnaws at your conscience, slowly consuming every moment of your life. That's exactly what I felt, an overwhelming guilt that seemed to devour me with each passing second.

I couldn't help but wonder if my father was a masterful actor or if I had been utterly foolish all these years for not seeing through his façade. The idea gnawed at my thoughts, a relentless itch in the back of my mind.

The next morning, I found myself avoiding any confrontation with my dad. There were so many questions burning inside me, questions that I hoped to find answers to in his diary. There was an irresistible urge to be with him, to wrap my arms around him, and thank him for shielding me from something I was still in the dark about. It was what my mother had hinted at in that diary. I didn't know the whole story, but it felt grave, and I needed to understand.

So, off to college I went, but instead of facing the situation head-on, I sought refuge in the library, attempting to bury myself in textbooks and prepare for upcoming exams. However, concentration eluded me. Avoiding difficult situations was never my style, especially when it was crucial to mend the chasm that had grown between a father and daughter over the years.

My inclination to confront challenges head-on was undoubtedly a result of my father's sacrifices. It dawned on me that destiny often plays a cruel role in the protection of the vulnerable. While the outcome might be assured, it exacts a toll. Becoming hardened, and unyielding, is not a choice but a byproduct of shielding oneself or others from the harsh realities of the world.

"Hey nerd," a familiar voice broke my reverie as he settled down at the opposite side of the table.

"I am not a nerd," I retorted with a playful glare.

"Oh really? So... um..."

"I'm fine, Karan. I know I overreacted yesterday, and I apologize for that. I got emotional, and it just... I hope your parents don't take it the wrong way," I blurted out in a single breath.

"Relax! They understand."

An awkward silence descended upon us, but it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. He looked at me, and I kept my gaze fixed on the book in front of me. It struck me that he was naturally understanding. Our newfound connection, born from these revelations about our shared past, made me feel even more at ease around him.

We sat in silence until the bell rang, signaling the start of our first class. Before lunch, we had a Psychology class together. I realized I was running late after unexpectedly nodding off in the previous class. Last night had been restless, with the words from that diary haunting my precious dreams.

I hesitated before entering the classroom, and my regrets began the moment I stepped inside. I was met first with the stern gaze of Ms. Lany, and then, to my chagrin, forced to sit with Karan as every other seat was occupied.

What a way to kickstart a supposedly wonderful class. Note the sarcasm.

"Your ex seems to be eyeing me as if I'm fresh meat she's going to devour the moment she gets a chance," I whispered to Karan, trying to lighten the mood while Ms. Lany was engrossed in writing on the board.

"I see. Well, before she gets her chance, I'll make sure to have you for myself," he replied with a playful grin.

A laugh escaped my lips, a bit louder than intended, and it drew the attention of Ms. Lany. Fortunately, she chose not to comment and continued with the class.

After class, I found myself in the cafe, where a conversation about Mahira's unsuccessful attempts to communicate with Karan was taking place among my friends. Hearing this, a pang of sympathy for Mahira briefly tugged at my heartstrings, but ultimately, I couldn't help but think she deserved her misfortune.

The remainder of the day passed without any significant drama. I crossed paths with Karan a few times in the corridor, and we exchanged lingering glances, keeping a respectable distance from each other, with our respective groups of friends. My mood was soaring, but there was an underlying sense of unease; my happiness had a habit of being short-lived.

As the college day came to a close, Karan surprised me by offering to drop me off at home. We met in the parking area, and my joy was momentarily dampened when I spotted Mahira standing unusually close to him. For an instant, I contemplated turning around and making my way home alone. However, that thought passed as fleetingly as a shooting star.

My marriage to Karan was a serious matter, not a mere fling, and I had no reason to run away from it. Gathering my courage, I walked determinedly in their direction, ready to confront Mahira. As I reached them, I clutched Karan's arm, pointedly ignoring Mahira.

"Hey, baby!" I greeted Karan with as much sweetness as I could muster before planting a kiss on his cheek. The audacity I exhibited caught even me by surprise.

"Hey," Karan replied, and I could have sworn his face turned slightly crimson. Was he blushing?

"What on earth?" Mahira erupted, causing me to instinctively cover my ears.

I turned towards her with a small, composed smile on my face.

"Oh, hi Mahira. I didn't notice you there. In front of Karan, I tend to have tunnel vision; I don't see anyone else, especially those who are insignificant. I hope you don't mind," I stated calmly.

"How dare you flirt with my boyfriend, you little bit**?" she spat out, her voice still piercingly high-pitched.

"Boyfriend? The last I heard, you two had broken up, right, baby?" I asked, turning to Karan.

"That was just a fight. It doesn't give a nerd like you a license to flirt with him," Mahira retorted.

"Oh, right! My apologies, we forgot to inform you that you're no longer allowed to be a part of Karan's life, as he will soon be getting married," I declared, emphasizing the word 'marriage.' Mahira's face paled at the mention.

"What?" she exclaimed, turning to Karan. "You can't do this to me, Karan," she whimpered, feigning tears. What a drama queen, I thought to myself.

"You were the one who cheated," Karan spoke up after a brief pause. "And, anyway, I never loved you. This marriage will be my fresh start with a wonderful woman," he concluded, turning his gaze towards me. Now it was my turn to blush. As our eyes met, we shared a knowing smile.

"Who is she? No one can replace me," Mahira insisted, her voice now laced with arrogance.

"Correct! No one can be as selfish as you," I retorted.

"She may not be like you, but she's the best choice I've ever made," Karan said, his eyes fixed on mine, filled with the desire to kiss me passionately.

"No, no, no... take me to her. I want to see the girl who isn't me," Mahira demanded, interrupting Karan's reverie.

"Sure. Let me..." Karan began, turning towards me, but I interjected.

"It's me," I revealed, intertwining my hand with Karan's.

That was all I had wanted—to capture the expression on her face. Mahira looked as though she might faint if she didn't remove herself from our presence, and that's exactly what she did. She bolted away, leaving the two of us alone.

After watching her retreat for a moment, we both burst into laughter. Later, Karan drove me home, and during the car ride, I decided to confide in him about my mother's diary.

"Mish, I need to confess something before you say anything else," he suddenly admitted, pulling the car over to the side of the road.

I looked at his guilt-ridden face, curious and a bit apprehensive. "What's going on? Why do you sound like this right after I told you that I started reading my mom's diary last night?"

He sighed deeply and then took hold of my hand. "I read your diary, Mish. I wasn't supposed to, but I couldn't resist after I met you on your first day of college. I was so angry that day, and I ended up drinking a lot. But when I read your diary, I was overwhelmed with guilt, Mish. Your parents, especially your dad, are amazing. That's the only reason I managed to find your mom's location and took you there."

Tears welled up in my eyes. I hadn't even finished reading the entire diary, but his confession made me want to go home and cry in my dad's comforting arms, and that's exactly what I did.

"Take me home, Karan. I need to talk to my dad," I requested. Karan nodded immediately and drove me back to my house.

Once I arrived home, I rushed inside the empty house. It provided me with some much-needed time to gather my thoughts before talking to my dad. I freshened up and prepared some of his favorite dishes, also taking on the tasks typically handled by our maid, who happened to be sick that day.

Later, I sat in the living room as my dad walked in, looking utterly exhausted.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted him, taking his bag from his hand.

"Hi Mi..." he began, but then stopped short of calling me 'Mish.' I understood.

"You can call me Mish, Dad. After all, you're the one who gave me that nickname, right?" I said with a smile.

He looked at me in amazement and quietly muttered, "Right?" Although barely audible, I heard it. "How did you know that?" he asked as he sat down beside me.

"I'll tell you everything over dinner, Dad. Go and freshen up first," I said, taking his bag and placing it in its usual spot. Then, I headed to the kitchen to heat up the food. Before Dad arrived, I had already called Sahil and arranged for him to stay at his friend's house after his football practice.

When everything was ready on the table, Dad joined me and we ate in silence for a while before I decided to break it.

"Karan gave me Mom's diary, and I started reading it last night. Although I haven't finished it, I've read enough to understand what you both did for me," I began, still focused on my plate.

"We wanted to tell you about it before the accident, Mish. I missed you terribly, and it became increasingly difficult for me to watch you resent me. But after your sister passed away, your mom asked me to wait for the right time, and things only got more complicated," he explained, pausing as he, too, was at a loss for words.

I couldn't help but listen intently.

"It wasn't an accident, Mish," he dropped a bombshell, causing my eyes to widen in shock.

"What do you mean?"

"My enemies ambushed them on their way. Thank God you weren't with them, or I might have lost you too," he admitted, tears welling up in his eyes. "But when I came home and saw you faint because of me, I realized your mom was right. You were still fragile, and I reverted to my old habits, hiding behind the facade of 'acting' without your mom. I even told Sahil that you were Prisha and encouraged him to treat you harshly."

Dad was crying, and I stood up, moving to his side to offer comfort.

"I'm so sorry, Mish. I was planning to tell you today, but you found out on your own."

"It's okay, Dad. I understand," I reassured him.

We had to confront the harsh truth, no matter how difficult it was to accept. This was just the beginning; there were even more painful facts that lay ahead, waiting for us to confront them.

_______***_______

Thanks for reading.

Lots of love

xxx