Eventually, I calm my father down enough to get him to a chair and give him a cup of chai.

"Abbu, can you please tell me what's wrong?" I ask gently, his watery brown eyes doing nothing to calm the raging storm of nerves inside of me.

He cups my face with his callused hands, gently rubbing his thumbs across my cheeks.

"Meri pyaari beti, I did a terrible thing," he starts. Fear paralyzes me as he says those words. My thoughts are on overdrive as I try to conclude what heinous crime my father could have possibly committed enough to receive a criminal summons from court. "I went to the bazaar to get some elaichi and zaffran because I wanted to make your Ammi's special karak chai for you. You always take so much care of me my jaan, I just wanted to do something nice for you."

I shake my head and give him a small smile. "Abbu, I should be doing nice things for you, not the other way around. Taking care of you is one of my favorite things to do."

He waves, as if dismissing my statement. "It doesn't matter, I know how much you were wishing for it last week. I saw the elaichi shells in the trash, and I know it isn't because you wanted to eat them." I close my mouth, cutting off the excuse I was about to give for the empty spice jars.

"Anyway," he sighs sadly, "I was so sure that I had enough money for at least a gram of saffron, but I guess they raised the prices. After buying the elaichi, I barely had any money left. I used my last paycheck to fix the kitchen sink."

Abbu takes my hands in his tightly. "Jaan, I just really wanted to do something nice for you," he says, his voice wavering again.

"I believe you," I say cautiously, "But I still don't understand what the issue is."

He looks down, not wanting to meet my eyes. "It was just a gram," he whispers.

No. Anything but that.

I can feel the blood drain from my face. "Please tell me you didn't."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking with his apology. "I just wanted to show my appreciation for you."

"I know that! I know how much you appreciate and love me, it doesn't even matter if you don't!" I console him. "Nothing I do or say can ever make up for the sacrifices you have to make to give me a somewhat normal life."

Abbu wraps me in a tight hug again and doesn't say anything.

A million thoughts race through my mind. Theft, amongst other misdemeanors, like rape and murder, were of the few that were highly punishable by the Royal Court of Mir. These sanctions were placed after the crime rate reached an all time high after the war. I have seen punishments for these crimes range from prison sentences to banishment from the kingdom. It was just a gram of saffron, how big of a punishment could that warrant?

Just a gram of the most expensive spice in the world, I think to myself bitterly. I push my father away by the shoulders to look him in the eyes. "Tell me in detail what happened."

"Ravi would not budge on his prices. He shouldn't have raised them in the first place! How are we supposed to survive with low wages and high inflation," my father exclaims angrily. "While he was busy with another client, I added a little more to my spice pouch when he wasn't looking. I thought I could slip away unnoticed after paying less than what I actually owe."

Okay, it wasn't as if he did not pay, I reason with myself. It cannot be that bad.

"The Fauj arrested me as soon as I stepped foot outside of the bazaar," he continued, his hands shaking as he recollected the experience. "They took me to the Royal Mehel, where I was to be sentenced by Prince Rafay, only, I never actually saw him. He relayed whatever he had to say through his guards."

"The guard who arrested me asked me questions. So many questions! And they were of the most peculiar nature too. He asked if I had any children, what they did for a living, and whether I had any daughters. I wasn't asked anything about me, just you. He said that the questions were those inquired by the Prince, and that if I answered them untruthfully, I would pay with both of our lives. Had he not threatened your life, I would've happily agreed to the verdict," he finishes, his eyes darkening with storms of rage.

I gasp. "Don't say things like that! Your life is more dear to me than my own."

That same expression, the one I saw years ago when we buried Ammi and Raza at the graveyard, resurfaces, sending a knife through my core. Sweat beads at my temples and my palms get clammy.

"I offered everything in my name. Our house, whatever money we had, my services as a palace doctor, even my own banishment! Nothing swayed his decision," he says in a low voice, anguish and murderous fury coating his words.

"He demands your hand," Abbu whispers, barely articulating the last word.

But I heard it.

I heard every word of that sentence. That damned sentence that has the power to ruin my life, my very being.

My throat closes up and suddenly, I can't breathe. My attempts to force air into my lungs are laughable. How can I breathe when my very existence is being snatched away from me? Time stops, and my eyes move around the kitchen, stopping momentarily on the mugs lined up on a shelf above the stove, Ammi's spice rack, and then my father. My father, a man who would never dream of shedding a tear in front of anyone for fear of letting others see signs of weakness in him, whose face is painted with anguish.

Marriage? What could one gain from marriage in today's time?

I had not realized that I went down a rabbit hole of panicked emotions and thoughts until my father grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me.

"Mahroosa, it's going to be okay. I'm going to get you out, mein vaada karta houn," he says firmly with tears pooling in his eyes again.

I nod slightly, not able to get any words out because of the insurmountable lump in my throat.

"Abbu, you have to know that I am not mad at you for this," I say softly. "Please do not beat yourself up for something that does not have to be forgiven. I am more than glad it is me serving out a sentence and not you."

He shakes his head slightly. "Beta, maybe you will understand this better when you are a parent, but giving your child away, willingly or unwillingly, is no easy task. Even if you were happily going into this marriage, I would have been scared out of my mind sending you away. This is the worst punishment for me." He engulfs me in a tight hug and presses a kiss to my head.

I put my arms around him and say, "It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."

I say this to comfort my father, but I am not sure I believe myself.

Abbu hugs me back and says, "I know, and Mahroosa, don't ever let anyone change the kind of person you are. The book-loving, chai-obsessed, big-hearted woman everyone loves, don't deprive anyone of that. Stay true to yourself. Don't let him break you down."

"I won't," I promise.

Again, I am not sure I believe myself.

* * * * *

When Afshi comes over, I take her into my bedroom and tell her everything. Needless to say, she took the news a lot better than I did.

"Can't you see the endless doors of opportunities this situation has opened up! You get to live in the Royal Mehel as a princess," she says cunningly with a devilish glint in her eyes. "You can make everyone do your bidding."

I stare at her. "I'm concerned that my situation excites you, but right now, I need Logical Afshi. What am I going to do? I don't know what kind of person he is. What if he's violent? What if he forces himself on me? What if he's some kind of weird animal-human hybrid?" My voice rises hysterically with each question.

Afshi straightens up and faces me. "Right, so what you're going to do is marry the bastard and make his life a living hell. Use violence if you have to. Hopefully, you're insufferable enough that he leaves you after a few months. What you're not going to do is concede defeat to that manhoos creature."

I bury my face in my hands. I wouldn't so much as hurt a fly, how could I bludgeon my way through marriage?

"Roosa, look. A verdict is a verdict. You want to keep your father safe, you will have to go through with this. I know you'll be okay, you always are. You handle things better than anyone I know." She squeezes my hands. "Stay strong, meri pyaari behen."

Easier said than done, I think as I squeeze her hands back.

There really is no way out of this.

Words to be Defined

Meri pyaari beti - my lovely/sweet daughter

Bazaar - market

Zaffran - saffron

Elaichi - cardamom

Karak chai - a type of tea made with spices, including saffron and cardamom

Jaan - my love/dear/sweetheart (it is a term of endearment)

Fauj - army/military

Mehel - palace/castle

Mein vaada karta houn - I swear to you/I promise you

Manhoos - sinister, corrupt, ill-omened

Meri pyaari behen - My beloved sister