𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐒𝐓

I  G L I S S A D E D  O U T  O F  M Y of my cherry scarpins, flattening them on the soft, wollen kaleen rolled out under the bronze wing chair. The velour of the kaleen soothed my aching feet, and I found my eyes starting to droop. Fatigue weighed upon me more heavily, and my instinct to leave kicked in. The diamonds circling my neck, the metal on the wrist, and the silk on my body seemed heavier than I remember.

I sat in a secluded corner, silently savoring my drink as the room buzzed with excitement over the night's main event-my father. He was reveling in what he deemed a monumental achievement: securing a spot among Asia's top ten billionaires. It was a title many coveted, especially those surrounding him.

The opulent banquet hall teemed with familiar faces, all draped in all splendor and clinking glasses of the finest wine. These affluent luminaries, whom I'd encountered countless times before, failed to hold my interest. I felt like an outsider in my own world, with no one to share the table with or have a word of intrigue. Well, no one except my father, though I doubted his enthusiasm for my company, matched my own doubts about being there in the first place.

I attempted to fix my gaze on the golden liquid in my hand, but its sparkling hue seemed to pierce through me. In that moment, I longed for Maya's presence. I imagined her awe-filled expression as she marveled at the champagne fountains and diamond-encrusted heels that adorned the room. Oh, how I wished she were here with me.

I saw my father approach me from the corner of my eye, his smile strained.

"Come with me,"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I want to introduce you to someone important," he said, his voice glazed with sweetness, but I detected the underlying iciness.

"Really?" I scoffed, making no effort to soften my tone.

"We've been through this before, Siya."

"Exactly. So you have to stop pretending."

He was growing furious, but he knew me-I was stubborn. With a deep breath, he tucked his hands into his coat pockets and, without another word, strode away.

Raj Mehra, the owner of one of India's foremost agricultural enterprises, possessed boundless wealth and unparalleled expertise in his industry. And secondly, my father. However, he remained oblivious to certain truths of his life, arrogantly believing he could effortlessly triumph over any challenge with a mere snap of his fingers. Although that's not always possible in a world of risks that he likes to thrive in.

The crowd erupted in applause as he shook the champagne bottle in his hand, popping it and sending the sparkling liquid spraying into the air. He joined in the cheers with his colleagues as hoots and laughter filled the room. His short moustache and imposing figure lent him an air of wisdom and experience, yet they also seemed to conceal a mystery known only to a select few.

Amidst his grandiose celebrations, memories of my mother seemed to fade into the background. Does he even remember her?

His head turned towards me, as if he sensed my gaze, and he flashed a smile. It was a pathetic grin, more of a grimace, as if he was trying to intimidate me. Of course, he would. What would the others think if they saw that even the mighty Mehra couldn't control his own daughter?

In public, he always puts on a show of unconditional, fake-fatherly love for me. Sometimes, he would even praise me in front of his friends. But I remained unmoved. I never cared who knew about our strained relationship.

Ignoring him and the party, I left.

As I stepped outside, a wave of blazing hot air slapped my cheeks, and I couldn't help but groan. Summertime in Mumbai was notorious for its extreme heat. My driver arrived just in time, just before I was about to be drenched in sweat, and he dropped me home straight away.

As soon as I reached home, I rushed to my room and tore off the red gown and the diamond jewellery. Despite the party turning into a complete disaster for me, at least I had aced the gown.

I slipped into a comfy t-shirt and shorts and tied my hair into a bun. Turning the AC on full speed, I jumped on the bed. Picking up the bedside phone, I called downstairs to the kitchen to inform Hari, our chef, to make me some mac and cheese and a milkshake. I swear, his cooking could make one forget every damn thing in the world.

By the time I relaxed, Nita, our domestic help, brought me the food, and I instantly dug in.

Sometimes, I felt both unlucky and blessed. Being brought up so privileged but improperly at the same time, having everything I wished for was certainly a boon. But if the source itself was amoral, your whole life seemed corrupt.

Life was much better when mumma was alive. I cherished every moment I spent by her side, enveloped in her warmth. Unlike my father, she always put me first, even allowing me to sleep in their room when illness struck, just so she could take care of me. Sometimes, she would ask for my opinion about the household decisions that dad never did.

However, the comforting haven my mother provided was shattered by her passing, succumbing to cancer. After that, my father's behavior took a dark turn, not only towards me but also towards his employees. The man I once knew seemed to vanish, replaced by someone willing to cheat and bribe for financial gain, eventually spiralling into full-blown crimes. The innocence of my youth shattered, leaving me to question if this side of him had always existed, hidden beneath a veneer of respect and class.

"Siya, your father has arrived," Nita said softly, as she poured a glass of water.

"And?" I replied dismissively.

Nita sighed, her voice tinged with concern. "Why don't you try talking to him? What if his heart changes and he tries to become a better man? You're his daughter. He must have some affection towards you."

I couldn't help but scoff at her suggestion. "Yeah, right. To think I'm more valuable than his extravagant yacht parties and business deals"

"But -"

"Please, can we not talk about him, Nita?" I pleaded.

Nita noticed my change in my mood and nodded understandingly. Sensing my discomfort, I quickly changed the subject.

"Okay, so t-today went really well. . ."

Today, she had her first secret date with her boyfriend, Sooraj. Her parents are unaware of their relationship, so she confides in me and shares every little detail like a younger sister would.

"Oh my god, how was it!?" I squealed.

Her cheeks flushed crimson as she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "It was n-nice."

Even though she usually kept to herself, her eyes gave her away. They sparkled with the unmistakable glow of someone in love. Unable to resist, I teased her more, fully aware of how deeply she felt.

After a chat, I descended the grand staircase to the spacious drawing room. Feeling like reading, I made my way to the library. Yes, I have a huge library at home, containing almost every novel ever written. The only thing that was irritating was having to walk from one end to the other of a long corridor. Why did my dad buy such a big house for just three people?

As I passed by my father's bedroom, I caught whispers drifting through the door. Gradually, the hushed tones transformed into a sinister, mocking laughter. Somewhere in the middle of it, I was damn sure, I heard my name.

I leaned in closer to the door.

"She'll do as I say," he muttered.

I peeked through the gap in the door, observing as he paced around the room, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"...of course... yeah, don't worry about it. You have offered me a really good price for Siya, I'm interested in further discussion," he said, his words sending a chill down my spine.

My eyes widened. Price?

Did I hear that right?

A lump formed in my throat. How could he?

A small gasp escaped my lips as and before he could hear me cry, I quietly retreated to my room and locked myself in.

My fingers curled into a fist. My mind ran into a million dilemmas all at once. Despite all his faults, I never imagined he would intentionally harm me. Selling his ch-hild?

I had lost all affection for him for a long time, yet my eyes still moistened at the betrayal. He was still my father, my voice still softened whenever I called him dad. And this is how life surprises me?

Frustration and anger surged within me. I knew I had to take action. I refused to bow to his orders. His words lingered in my mind, and I wondered how low he could stoop.

My body shivered with emotions I couldn't fathom, its rhythm matching the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. The beige walls of my room appeared to be closing in, suffocating me. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears streaming down my face, consumed by a torrent of emotions as I cursed my existence.