A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for such warm response for the story so far! <3
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Chapter 8: Daughters
"Imran Qureshi wants to meet his son."
"What?" Zoya almost yelled at Asad.
Asad nodded his head at her, his entire body going stiff at the mere thought of letting his son go anywhere near that sleaze ball. He could not lose his little man; not to that person.
"What do you mean he wants to meet Aadil? And, please, don't call Aadil his son. He is your son, Asad and always will be." Zoya said with full conviction.
Asad managed to let out a little smile at her words. It was nice to hear that. Zoya was a breath of fresh air. He was grateful for her reactions. He sighed and told her what had been going on.
"He has been calling my office obsessively for some days now. The first time he called I was in such a shock that I could not even hang up the phone immediately. All he had managed to say was that he wanted to meet Aadil, and that's when my instincts had kicked in and I slammed the phone back on the receiver. He has been calling me ever since, from various different numbers so I can't screen his calls. Just by hearing the sound of his voice, I am filled with so much rage that." Asad told her about what was going on.
Something , a realization, flashed in Zoya's eyes. "Oh! Is that what you were talking with Phuppi and Rashid uncle the other day when came from the movies. You all looked very worried, especially Phuppi." She wondered.
Asad nodded, "You had caught that, huh?"
Zoya nodded and frowned.
"I was just updating them on what was happening that day. I had told them about his calls the first day itself. I had been so out of it that it was impossible to hide it from them, not that I was going to hide it - my family is my biggest support. Ammi is worried sick about this. Abbu on the other hand wants to research anything that may give us an edge. They can't lose their grandson."
Zoya looked at him seriously, "But, he can't do anything, can he, Imran, that is? I mean, he signed off his rights when Aadil was born! He did not want to be a part of Aadil's life and it's your name on his birth certificate. That has to count for something, right?"
Asad wrung his hands and answered, "I know that, Zoya. And trust me, that is the only thing which is keeping me strong. But what I am scared of is that what if he drags this to court? What will I do? "
"What do you mean what will I do'? You will fight, of course! You are his father on the papers and stuff, right? He can't just possibly swoop in after seven years and take him from you!" she cried out.
Asad sighed, "He is his biological dad, Zoya. He..."
"More like his sperm donor. "Dad" needs more than just impregnating." she muttered, interrupting him.
"Yes, whatever. What I mean is that they share DNA. As twisted as it is, courts often side by nature and not nurture if the nature's case is strong. And I have no idea what life Imran Qureshi has built over these past years." Asad closed his eyes, his long day catching up to him.
Zoya noticed that.
"It's really no point in worrying about that right now. For all that we know, he may just want to see Aadil once. You need rest now, Asad. Sleep. Don't over think. Come on. Let's go inside."
Asad got up but his mind wouldn't rest.
"I wish I could stop worrying, Zoya. I know I will fight for him, if that is what it'll take, but I don't want to have to put my son through any of the court ordeal, ever!" he let out his concerns.
"Then we'll have to pray that it doesn't come to that." Zoya smiled and took his hand in hers; a spark spread through their bodies on the contact.
***
"Where are you, Ghafoor Siddiqui?" Zoya mumbled to herself as she sat on her bed.
Zoya was furiously looking through the hits on Google. She had tried to narrow down her search various ways and now finally she thought that she may have actually found something valuable. She was looking at some places to start her manual research. After the fruitless research online, she was now tracking down some old warehouses and other print factories that may hold information that dated to more than twenty years back. She hoped to find maybe a wedding announcement or something. A thought suddenly came to her mind.
Allah Miyan! What if Ammi wasn't married to him?
This was getting difficult by the minute. Zoya groaned and flopped on her bed. What was she thinking? Coming to a country she had never been before with only a letter for recognition and expecting to find a person? This was not going to be easy. But she needed to do this.
Zoya was tempted to give her mother a call and confront her. She had to know the truth and her mother seemed like the only easy way to get through this mess. Zainub Farooqui was the only person, besides Ghafoor Siddiqui himself, who could provide Zoya with her much needed answers.
Should she contact her mother? What would her mother say? She did not even know that Zoya suspecting things or that she was in India. Ya Allah! Help me, please!
Her phone's shrill ringtone rang as she was contemplating over her issues. The phone said Anwar. Zoya immediately sat straight. Why was he calling her at this time? It's so late there! She picked up the phone and made herself comfortable on her bed.
"What is wrong? Tell me!" she yelled into the phone without any preamble.
Anwar chuckled, "Well, hello to you too, Zoya. I think it's still considered gracious to say a normal polite greeting." He teased her.
"You want normal? Okay then! Anwarrr! Hi. How are you? I miss you and meri Zeenat jaan so much! Better?" she tried to sound as cheerful as she could.
"Hmm , much better. Acha, Zoya suno. I have to talk to you." His voice was tense.
Her brows furrowed, "What's wrong? You sound worried! Is everything okay? Is Zeenat al right!? Ya Allah! Do I need to come back? Anwar?!" she was panicking now.
"Zoya, breathe! We are fine, both of us." he pacified her before she started hyperventilating.
"Then? Tell me!!" she demanded.
"Um, your mother showed up at our place today. She""
Zoya yelled into the phone and cut him off, "WHAT, at your place? What does she want now!?"
Anwar huffed and said, "I was going to tell you, before you cut me off. Anyway she was looking for you; said that she had gone up to your place and it was locked and you were not answering her calls." He told her.
Zoya sneered, "BULLSHIT! She has never called me, not even once! And now she is pretending to care for me? Did she say anything? And what did you tell her?" she questioned.
Anwar sighed on the other end of the call. "I didn't tell her anything. But, are you sure that you did not get her calls? Maybe she couldn't reach you, you being in India and all that?"
Zoya scoffed and said, "Yeah, right. If that is what it is, then I am the Queen of England. Anwar, you and Zeenat have been able to call me alright. It's only her calls which won't go through! I know her, okay? She knows that she is not going to get any answers about my whereabouts from me directly, so she came to you. Don't fall for it. Thank God, you didn't tell her anything."
Anwar hesitated.
"What? Anwarrr! What did you say?" she said in a warning tone.
"Look, I did not say anything, okay? But she did say something."
"What? More lies?" asked Zoya, sardonically.
"Look, I don't know, okay? She said that she had something to give to you; something important. It's just that I have a feeling that she knows that you are in India and that you know something that she has never told you. She looked different; worried and tensed. I think you should contact her, Zoya." Anwar tried to explain.
Zoya sighed, "What if there are more lies and pain and nothing else? What can she tell me now to make up for the all these years of doing nothing, Anwar? How am I supposed to let go of that?" her voice got shaky and tears welled in her eyes.
"You don't have to, Zoya. That's not what I am saying. But you also have to realize that she is your best shot at finding the truth about your father and that letter." Anwar said. "And when have I ever been wrong?" he added to cheer her up and lift the heaviness.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anwar Dar, the voice of reason." Zoya laughed. "I'll think about it, okay? You need to go now, it's really late there! Say my hello to your Begum Sahiba and tell her not to fret too much!"
Anwar laughed, "Like that is even possible for her to do!"
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters too
- Daughters, by John Mayer
A/N: So, how was it? Review, review, review!
Reviews are like late night heart-to-heart: warm, fuzzy, personal and make you feel so much better!😃
Please let me know how you liked it. Leave a comment and hit the like' if you liked the update!
P.S. I love this song, Daughters. If you haven't heard it, I would really urge you to do it! A great, great song!😊
Much love,
Simi
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
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