He didn’t even greet anyone because of the anger burning inside him. He stopped, wondering why Taj had called him at such a time. What was the reason for the call? And what had brought Alhaji Ubaid and his family to the house?

He knew they had no connection with Chief Owais. His heart whispered to him that maybe they had called him because they’d learned everything that happened between him and his daughter, and that was why they brought Alhaji Ubaid and his family—to reconcile them.

Sadness overwhelmed him. Just as he turned to leave, he heard her voice—thick with sobs—echo in his ears:

“Baba! Please don’t go. I asked him to call you because I wanted to see you. I need you near me. I want to talk to you…”

Hearing the voice of his own blood stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his daughter call him Baba.

When she saw he wasn’t turning back, she rushed to him, crying, then collapsed on her knees behind him. She wrapped her trembling hands around his legs.

He couldn’t describe what overcame him. Something deep and indescribable broke through his chest. He couldn’t speak.

Aisha’s sobbing pierced him, reopening the wound in his heart. It had been eighteen years since his body last touched his only child—the daughter he had thrown out of his house one night with her infant, without a second thought of who might care for them. A daughter who had committed no crime, yet bore the punishment. To this day, when he remembered, he felt an indescribable bitterness.

Struggling, she stood and embraced him from behind, laying her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his stomach.

No matter the storm in her heart, the moment she felt the warmth of her father’s body, a calmness swept over her.

He looked down at her hands clinging tightly to his stomach, and his mind went back to the day her mother had given birth to her—the day Malama Batool had entrusted him with her before meeting death. Truly, he had betrayed Malama Batool’s trust.

Tears welled in his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks.

“Baba!” she cried. “Why didn’t you ever look for me in eighteen years? Do you even know what kind of life I lived? You carried on in peace, not once thinking about my state. Was I healthy? Was I sick? Alive or dead? Despite everything you did to me, I never stopped thinking about you. I always hoped you would come looking for me. But silence—until I lost hope that I even had a father in this world. You cut me off from my people, Baba. Did you ever regret what you did to me? Do you even know what you put my life through?”

Her words shattered him. For all his endurance, he could no longer hold back. He broke down, trembling, and turned to hold her. He wrapped her tightly against his chest, both hands supporting her back.

Everyone—Alhaji Ubaid and his family, Abie and his family, and Taj standing at the side—watched with tears streaming down their faces. It was like they were watching a scene on TV.

Between sobs, he whispered weakly, “Forgive me, Aisha. Your right has haunted me all these years. I betrayed your mother, I wronged you, and I wronged myself…”

He paused, gasping for breath, his face trembling.

With difficulty, he continued, “How could I abandon my own flesh and blood and still live in peace? Allah is my witness—since the night I threw you out, I regretted it. I don’t even know why I did that to you, Aisha! I wasn’t in my senses. In my sleep I awoke with hatred for you in my heart. Suddenly I didn’t want to see you anymore. It was like something urged me—if I didn’t drive you out, I would lose my life. For years I asked myself why I passed such a cruel judgment. You were my daughter. The torment I went through after losing you is beyond words. I wept as I had never wept in my life. I hated myself. Life became meaningless. I wished for death. I locked myself away for days, without food or drink. I fell sick, hospitalized, nearly died. All I could utter in delirium was your name. Even now, as I speak to you, I live with a heart condition. Only Allah spared my life till today…”

Sobs from Benazir and Anila filled the room.

“Aisha, I never forgot you. I went to sleep thinking of you. I woke up thinking of you. In every prayer I begged Allah to protect you and your child. Every Hajj I performed was with you in mind. If you were alive, may Allah guard you. If you had died, may Allah grant you mercy. I never gave up hope…”

His voice broke. He couldn’t finish, choking on grief.

She cried harder, never knowing he had suffered this much. She had thought he had abandoned her intentionally, that he had forgotten her.

He cupped her face with both hands, their tearful eyes meeting.

“Aisha, I gave up everything for you. In the end, when you didn’t return, I left the country in despair. The day I saw you here, it was like paradise opened for me. I was overjoyed, though shaken by the changes in you. Still, I knew—you were my daughter. That’s why I couldn’t speak then. Shame silenced me…”

He was about to kneel before her, begging forgiveness, when she stopped him, clinging to him. “Baba, don’t kneel. It is I who should seek forgiveness. What happened was not your doing