It wasn't an explosion nor the sudden turn of an event. No, it was something far worse. Silences so deep and suffocating. A form of pressure that feels like your chest is being compressed while all the air in your lungs is slowly running out. It is still possible to feel stab like sensations deep at your core. Layla could feel something was off well before she left the room. Something felt wrong and her heart recognized it before her mind did.
As if guiding her, her feet trudged onward down the cold tiled hallway. Reality had shifted. Things shifted within bounds of her simulation – no roaring words of joy, no gentle sounds of rustle from the kitchen. Just a heart beat ringing like a thunder drum in her ear.
With all her focus, she recalled the last time she locked eyes with the therapist. The light purple cardigan gently ruffled, a thin silvery chain acted willingly to twinkle in her majestic presence while tearing its' gaze through space and attempting her best to liberate reality from the prison she often resided within.
Her fingers injury brushed up against the now fragile edge of the doorframe. Each step brought warmth and jittery feelings not only in her hands. She could feel partake in emotions beyond this and it was scaring her deeply. The knob found its' way to align just like her hands tries their best to unfurl claiming victory over an invisible beast fighting for control.
Step after step unveiled a world of wonder;
And like magic the door now too uncreaked in tandem to sore wide open while granting her the victorious chance to gaze at the ethereal picture before her eyes yep you guessed it . Kamal.
Instead of waiting or issuing any form of soothing beckon, he had instead decided to grace the chair with his leading presence while fully ensconcing himself deeply within their comforts.
The room felt as though it tilted to the side while the air in her lungs froze. It seemed like a strange world to her, as her legs felt like their muscles had turned into lead. Her mind struggled to make sense of what she was gazing at. It was her uncle and he was seated as if he belonged there. He didn't stand up when she walked in, nor did he glance her way. He was just... there, completely like he had time to spare.
"Where's Father?" The question came out as a whisper, but it turned into a crack as syllables gave under the burden of the question.
Kamal didn't even flinch. His fingers rested lightly on the edge of the desk. Her skin crawled when she noticed the slackness of his pose. "Gone," he stated flat.
The single word shot through Layla's mind like physical force. The windows to her logical reasoning snapped shut one after the other with relish. Her father always took care of his responsibilities. There was no way he would just... be gone. Not like this.
"Where? Gone where?" Layla asked desperately with barely a hint of sanity remaining.
He had distanced himself from the sofa, looking at the remote as if it were a person. With an unsettling calmness, he replied, "She's dead, Layla. He died tonight. The paramedics mentioned it was a heart attack."
That moment sent a kaleidoscope of images through her mind. Layla felt as if dampers had been placed on her knees. Everything in her body slowly started stuttering and coming to a stop. It could not be possible. Just this morning, she shared a warm breakfast with her father who chuckled and joked about Irfan's humor. In what world could things turn upside down this quickly?
Kamal's face remained expressionless as ever, bordering disinterested as he simply stared forward in silence as family members contemplated the reality of the tragedy. The entire situation gave the vibe of a mere business deal instead of centuries-old familial ties.
Her mother was motionless as well but ominously stood towards the back half of the room. Pale skin coupled with deep dark bags showcased the emotional agony that resided within. Pierced lips gave her the appearance of a mime, something that relentlessly pulled at Layla. Reality felt too painful to bear. While fantasies roamed her mind blissfully, the need to shout the words "I wish this was a lie" accompanied by long hugs from her mother was the only thing that could calm her. Walking away was the only option without breaking into pieces alongside the already broken soul.
Layla attempted to push down the tightness constricting her throat. Her father? He was dead? No, not after all these years, not after everything they had gone through together. This reasoning defied logic.
"What are you talking about?" Layla's voice broke through, now louder and infused with confusion and fury. "This can't be true."
Kamal leaned back in the chair, his face expressionless. "I know this is hard to understand, but the company, the house… everything needs stabilizing. Your father was not doing so well financially so I had to step in."
Her mind was a blur. There was so much chaos in her head; Kamal's words were incomprehensible. He spoke as if her father's death was merely an annoyance. Yes, her father had struggled, but this? This was entirely too far removed from logic.
"There's a new will," he said, his voice as flat as ever declaring the folder as lifeless as himself.
Layla, heart racing and pulse pounding in her ears, fixated on the folder and the sudden weight it had gained. She could almost hear it declare the inevitability of her future. "No. No, you're lying," she whispered, voice trembling barely above a whisper.
Kamal did not blink at all; his gaze glued to her. "You can verify it. The legal team already did."
As she reached for the folder, her hands shook and the paper felt thicker, almost heavier than it should. And although she struggled to concentrate while opening the folder, her gaze skimming over its contents, something stood out—signatures. Kamal's and her father's.
It all felt raw.
Her entire inheritance, obliterated as if it never existed.
The company, the family mansion, and foremost—Heritage obliterated. Forever.
Inhaling felt impossible as the delicate dregs composing her father's shattered legacy floated into nothingness alongside their family history. Everything bestowed upon her crumbled, stripped from existence in conceding silence, leaving only bone-deep emptiness behind.
"You made this." Each word felt condensed into viscous stone, painfully heavy devoid of righteous justification.
Kamal's posture showed complete indifference to his surroundings. He had almost assumed the persona of a man who was unconcerned about the world around him. "I didn't kill him, Layla. But I did what I had to do. This is mine now."
Her insides coiling with rage, an undeniable sense of fury accompanied with powerlessness surged through her chest. She wanted to let out a scream, wanting to unleash the storm on him, wanting him to experience the agonizing suffering she was bursting with but instead stood ice cold, as though her body was disconnected from her brain.
"You will pay for this," she promised in determined vow sounding words.
"Kamal smirked, his expression unchanged. 'We'll see about that.'"
That was the last thing she heard before he strolled out without a care in the world with her feeling abandoned. The silence that followed was equally painful, and cinematically deafening, like fingers around a wrist choking off circulation. She had fallen into a bottomless pit, a void of silence and nothingness.
The guards and police poured like water and there was nothing for Layla to do except to drown under the fake, fabricated protection that was there to make sure she didn't stray too far from the rules.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides while nails pierced into her palms. Feeling anything at the moment seemed impossible. Crying at this moment also seemed difficult; but it was possible to sense a painful fracture within attempting to cry, the exhaustion revolving around something deeply important. The realization of not being able to heal instantly, felt daunting. Not in this moment, and not ever.
Silence enveloped her mother, while her brokenness and helplessness was palpable. There existed one thing inside Layla and that was her fierceness. The scalding fury wrapped around her grief, in an attempts to protect uncanny feelings could transform grief into something darker.
As they started moving away from the house began the once cherished memories, the gates which were cherished by everyone alongside the mansion cruelly shut. Laying marks of long fragmented shadows over everything signifying darkness pouring over their lives each struggling to come to terms spread across the sky.
At the start being unable to succumb to rest felt daunting. This was true where her never ending resolve seemed weaker but some fragments were unable to hold back portioned loss and facing grief.
Ability to heal might not seem possible but one thing is for sure change is es
sential.
All that processing would lead to realization that he will pay.