Outside the home fence which had been such her world before, Layla stood stiff. Her eyes would not blink. The house was ordinary but now it was not hers anymore.
Mother had sat on the worn bench of the bus terminal, fists still bunched around her ripped purse. Nothing was there. Only the bird noises that had only just started their singing as though the world went on turning while her own world had just smashed to the ground.
She tried to swallow, but her throat was choked. It was blocked. Anger and perplexity fought inside her without meaning.
"Father never liked Kamal." her voice fell slightly.
Mom said nothing, turning aside. As though she had heard, but did not wish to respond.
"We cannot permit him to take everything like that."
Mom said nothing. It was as though she had no idea what to say.
"Mom? We gotta do something. We gotta"
"Your father. is gone." Mom's voice broke a bit. "Now, it's just the two of us."
Layla clenched her teeth. Her eyes were red but not yet dripping. Tears? Not yet. Not in public. Not now.
She looked back. The house she'd grown up in, the one where Irfan played, the one where dad joked at dinnertime. All that, mere memories now.
Kamal grabbed them. It was as if he had been waiting for that moment.
But he would not steal their dignity from them.
And he would not give up so easily.
Two days after all was lost, Layla stood in front of her father's lawyer's office. The old building. The smell of wet paper. Even the signboard was tilted.
Not like the luxurious corporate office she would visit with her father.
She exhaled slowly. Trying to calm herself. But her hands were still cold.
"Your father's old lawyer has something for you," the unfamiliar voice of yesterday's telephone call still rang.
No name. No explanation. Just a gruff
She knocked on the door.
"Come in," said an old voice from inside.
The old man stared at her as if he had been expecting her to come.
"Layla binti Faris?" he asked.
She nodded.
The man handed her a thick envelope. Without a word.
"From your father. For you only. He told me to keep hold of it and only give it to you when something. happens."
Layla's hands trembled. She opened it slowly. Inside, there was a letter, a USB stick, and an old photo.
On the back of the photograph, her father's handwriting.
It was like a prayer from beyond the grave.
"Trust your instincts. Kamal cannot be trusted. Begin with this file and don't let anyone know you know."
Layla held the letter close.
It had been years since the day her father passed away, everything within her had been mute. But this time. something had been ignited.
Hope.
And revenge.