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Nisma inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, but her words came out thick with emotion.

"About Mom."

The line fell silent, the weight of her words settling between them. Nisma could almost feel her father's quiet concern, stretching across the distance that separated them. She knew this conversation was the beginning of something larger, something that could change everything.

"Dad," she said softly, "how did Mom know so much about KUDRAT? About everything that goes on here?"

Her father's voice came through steady but guarded. "Because I told her."

Nisma's eyes widened. "You told her? Dad, you jibam?"

There was a long pause, and then, so quietly she almost didn't hear it, he said, "Yes."

She stared at the empty sky beyond the balcony, her mind racing. Her father, a jibam. The revelation felt monumental, a piece of the puzzle she hadn't known was missing.

"But why?" she pressed. "Why would you tell her?"

"Because she deserved to know," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight she couldn't yet decipher.

Her heart ached with the questions she had held onto for so long. The one she feared most slipped out before she could stop it.

"What about her death, Dad? What really happened?"

The line grew quiet again, the silence sharp and suffocating. "It was... just an accident, Nisma," he said at last, his voice hesitant.

But she wasn't convinced. She could hear the hesitation, the unspoken truth behind his words. "It wasn't, was it?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Nisma..." His voice cracked, pleading this time. "Please. Let's not talk about this now."

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to let it go, for now. "Then why did you send me here?" she asked, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why send me to KUDRAT, an all-boys school?"

Her father exhaled, the sound heavy through the phone. "Because Nawfal can protect you."

Nisma shook her head, pacing now. "It's more than that, isn't it?"

Another long silence. Then, a quiet, reluctant, "Yes."

Her shoulders sagged. She could feel the walls he had built around his answers, the truths he wasn't ready to share. "You won't tell me why, will you?"

"One day, you'll know," he said, his voice filled with something she couldn't quite place—sorrow, perhaps, or hope.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to accept what little he was willing to give. "Dad... do you miss Mom?"

The silence stretched so long that she wondered if the line had gone dead. Finally, he answered, his voice thick with emotion. "Yes. Every day. Every hour, every minute, and even every second, I think about your mom."

Her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. "Do you love me, Dad?"

His pause was shorter this time, but his answer hit her like a warm embrace. "Nisma, you are my light in the darkest of nights. You remind me of her strength, her kindness, and her courage. I love you more than life itself."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it quickly. "I love you too, Dad."

"Be strong, Nisma," he said gently. "I'll see you during the break."