Amelia led me down another corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a small room with a table and a few chairs. She motioned for me to sit, and I did. Suddenly, the door flew open.

My family walked in—or rather, my sister and mother rushed in while my father lagged behind. Fariya hugged me tightly first, then Mom wrapped her arms around me.

"Are you okay?" Mom sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "They said you killed someone. That can't be true—you wouldn't hurt anyone."

I gently pulled them back to look at them. Worry and fear were written all over their faces. Dad stood back, silent.

"It's true," I confessed softly. "I killed him by accident. I was trying to help Mr. Mann. Those guys were going to hurt him badly."

"You were helping Mr. Mann?" Dad finally spoke, breaking his silence.

Mom and Fariya stepped aside, and I found myself facing him directly. I dreaded this moment, knowing how he could be. But instead of backing down, I stood my ground.

Yes, I was helping him. If I hadn't been there, who knows what those thugs would've done to him," I said, my voice firm even though my heart was pounding.

Dad scoffed loudly. "Look at him, Shehla," he said to my mother. "All lies. Zakir, you've killed a man—a human being. Mr. Mann said you started this fight. You went crazy over some small payment for food. How could you lose your temper like this? Is this what I taught you? What we taught you?"

I met his gaze head-on, refusing to look away. "He's lying, Dad. I was trying to save Mr. Mann. I don't know why he's saying this, but I was helping him against those thugs," I insisted.

My mother grabbed my arm tightly. "Zakir, that's the opposite of what we're hearing," she said, her eyes filled with worry. "They're all saying you provoked this."

I held her hand firmly. "It's not true, Mom. I swear," I said, hoping she'd believe me.

"And the judge will suddenly believe you, without any evidence?" my father scoffed again. "You think he'll just let you walk free?"

"I don't know what he'll do," I admitted, feeling a knot in my stomach. "But Amelia and I will do everything we can to fight back," I added, glancing at Amelia for support. "There's a way I can avoid jail time. The guy I killed—I need to show his sketch and tell the judge who he was. Based on that, they'll start an investigation, and my sentencing will be suspended until it's concluded."

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Dad rubbed his eyes wearily. "And what happens after the investigation is completed?" he asked, his voice heavy with skepticism.

"Hopefully, I'll be found not guilty," I said, trying to sound confident but feeling anything but.

He looked at me with a mix of frustration and sadness. "My son, you're a moron. You don't understand how this works. You killed someone, and society sees murderers differently, whether it was intentional or an accident. They judge our whole family too. If we try to find a husband for Fariya, how do we tell the groom's family she comes from a murderer's family? If we look for a nice girl for Arqam, how do we explain his older brother is a murderer?"

I fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on me. This was what I hated most: society's endless judgment. My family always thinks about what others will say more than they think about us. The opinions and expectations of others always come before our own feelings. We're expected to succeed in life not because we want to, but so our parents can proudly boast about us to everyone else. It's always about appearances.

Amelia tried to step in. "Sir, if I may—" she began softly.

But Dad cut her off sharply. "Please don't interfere. This is a family matter," he said curtly.

He turned back to me, his eyes hard, waiting for an answer. I had one, and I'd been holding it back for a long time. "Fuck society, Dad. Fuck them.”

He sighed deeply, his tired expression turning into one of profound sadness. "I've thought long and hard about this, Zakir," he said slowly. "But you've left me no choice. From this day onwards, you're dead to me. I have only one son and one daughter."

My mother burst into tears, her sobs filling the room. She pleaded with my father, begging him not to do this. "Please, don't turn your back on our son," she cried. My sister joined in, tears streaming down her face. But they couldn't change his mind. He turned and walked away; his footsteps heavy. I saw a single tear fall from his face to the ground as he left.

After a few minutes, when Mom and my sister realized Dad wasn't coming back, they hugged me tightly one last time before following him out. "Take care of yourself," my mother whispered through her tears. Tears streamed down my face as I watched them leave. I didn't try to stop them. I knew the moment Dad walked in that his mind was made up. He'd cast me out of the family, and now I had no place to call home.

Bagley appeared beside me as they all walked out. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, his presence both comforting and unsettling. He placed his hand on my shoulder. For a spirit, it didn't feel cold. It felt warm, almost human.

"You did what you had to do to survive, Zak," Bagley said softly. "Always remember that. Even if you have to kill, you're doing it because you had to survive. So always prioritize yourself before others."

I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, all my life I've put others first—friends, family," I said quietly. "Maybe it's time I start living for myself instead of them."