“This isn’t fair!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and, at that time, it seemed the right thing to do. My father, a man in his late forties with curly hair and dark complexion, stood in front of me, with his mouth wide open, expressing his astonishment at how I had shouted at him.

Whatever was happening with me didn’t appear fair. After all, my elder sister, Marium, hung out with her friends since she was ten, but with my 14th birthday coming up, I still didn’t have the permission. That day, I could no more control my anger when he exclaimed that I had been grounded just for arriving from school late.

My father stood there for some time before replying softly, “You will never understand … but the decision stays final.”

His reply infuriated me, so I shouted back, “Fine! If that’s what you really want, I will never see you again.”

I ran to my room upstairs, packed some essentials in my backpack (mostly food), and left the house. The weather outside made the situation worse; rain poured down heavily, and most of the street lamps were off. I had expected my whole family, consisting only of my father and two siblings, to stop me but, to my surprise, no one followed.

I headed for my cousin Tuba’s house, which was only down the lane, however, when I reached the place, no one was there in the house. The lights of the residence were all out, and no one responded to the bell. I walked back to my house, but did not enter it. There were two reasons behind it: lack of courage and the fact that I had just seen Mrs Ahmed sitting on the stairs leading to her house. Mrs Ahmed was a fine lady in her late eighties, whose usual clothing consisted of suits of shalwar kameez of crimson shades. She wore blue boots — rather prominent ones — while her gray bangs hid half of her face including one of her hazel eyes, rosy cheeks and shrivelled lips. Beside her sat Cindy, her ginger cat.

Mrs Ahmed was friendly towards me, so I didn’t wait for permission and sat next to her. She looked lost in her own thoughts so I started a conversation myself.

“So aunty, it’s raining, isn’t it?” I realised the inanity of the question once the words left my mouth. However, she responded graciously, “Sure it is dear, but what is a girl like you doing outside in such a dreadful weather. You don’t want to lose your beauty, do you?”

I grinned and answered “Of course not! It’s just that…” I couldn’t find words to explain what had happened.

“You had a fight with your father, didn’t you?”

“But how did you…”

“Oh dear, you cannot expect a girl to leave after fighting with her siblings, and then the only person left is your father.”

I explained the entire situation without ambiguity, and the piece of advice she gave me changed my life. “I see what you are going through but it shouldn’t be a new thing.”

Seeing my baffled look, she further clarified, “I know you won’t remember but there is a reason why your father is so over-protective. Back when you were only two years old, you were kidnapped. It all happened right before my eyes and I saw how much your father was worried, so that he was even ready to sell everything he had to get you back. You were found when the police raided an old barn. Those days were the worst for your father, and when I say worst, I mean it.”

All those moments when he had protected me, came to my mind in a flash and I realised my mistake in yelling at him. But I knew what to do next.

I kissed Mrs Ahmed on the cheek before returning to my house where I found dad sitting on the sofa in the drawing room with hands over his head. I called him in a whisper but he heard it and raised his head to look at me.

I ran towards him and hugged him tightly. It felt so warm and comforting to be in his arms because I knew the truth and I never wanted to stay away from him. That day, I saw my father in a totally different light for I had finally understood his love for me.

Published in Dawn, Young World June 17th, 2017