The front door slammed open with a force that shook the house. Like the sound of falling earth, the echo of heavy military boots followed, marching with firm authority. Zuhra's father stepped in, breathing hard, his face void of any warmth.
He found Amir and Ruhan sitting in front of the television in the living room, laughing at a show. Zuhra's mother was sitting nearby, gently rocking a kettle she had brought from the kitchen.
He said nothing. Only the family greeted him with puzzled looks.
"Welcome back," Zuhra's mother said softly.
He acted as if he didn't hear. His face hardened further. He walked past them without a glance and headed straight for Zuhra's room, his steps so forceful it felt like he would knock the door off its hinges.
Inside her room, Zuhra stood in front of a mirror, wearing her yellow nightgown, swaying gently to music playing through her headphones. She seemed lost in her own world, immersed in the bliss of her song, exhaling with the peace of an artist in her element.
Suddenly, the sharp crash of the door being flung open jolted her back to reality.
"Zuhra!!"
Her father stormed into the room, voice burning with rage. No greeting. No warning. He kicked the door open with such force that it startled her.
Tats! The door hit the wall with a loud bang. Startled, she froze mid-dance. The headphones still in her ears had muted the outside world.
He stormed forward and yanked the headphones off her head.
"You!! How many times have I told you?!" he shouted, panting, his eyes wild with fury, sweat dripping down his temples.
Before she could utter a word, he snatched everything music-related in the room — performance clothes, makeup kits, contest flyers, even registration forms — and flung them to the floor.
Then came destruction.
"Kiiiiiiiii!!" He smashed the golden trophy cup she had won at the University of Hyderabad's music competition. It shattered on the ground.
"Trash!!!" He hurled her makeup box against the wall. It burst apart.
The noise of shattering objects and his thunderous yelling drew Amir, Ruhan, and their mother running from the living room, panic on their faces.
"What's happening?!" her mother asked, terrified.
Zuhra reached for her father's arm through tears, trying to explain:
"Baba... I swear... I just... I didn't mean to shame you..."
He grabbed her wrists tightly, shaking them as if to rip the music out of her soul by force.
"You will become a doctor!" he barked. "Not a dancer! Not a performer! Not a disgrace to her family!"
"If you don't fear the law, you'll fear my fists!"
His eyes began to redden, voice echoing through the room. Her mother rushed forward, grabbing his arm, pleading:
"Please… don't hurt her! Beating her won't erase her love for music!"
But he shook her off, growling:
"I'll rip out the heart that refuses to listen!"
"Forget London! Forget music! This house is not a stage for disgrace!"
Zuhra collapsed in tears, rubbing her eyes with her hands, but her heart struggled to defend the dream being torn from her by the rage of her father.