Page 19 of Carnal Games

“Iris?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Your father and I were talking last night about you living at a hostel. Are you sure? You can stay at home and travel from here,” she suggests.

I was fortunate enough to get accepted into my dream journalism college. One of the top-ranking universities in the country. The moment I read my acceptance letter, I had screamed at the top of lungs while happy tears streamed down my face. My family had come bursting into the room, scared there was a burglar hurting me. Only for them to becomeemotional after hearing the news themselves. Even my grumpydaduhad shed a tear.

He and my parents know how passionate I am about becoming a reputed journalist.

Solving mysteries and fighting against the injustices in the world is something I connect with deeply.

I’m fortunate that they wholeheartedly support my dream.

Especially when I hear a few girls in my class at school as well as coaching sessions talk about how their parents want them to get married and settle down as soon as possible. There actually was an instance where one of my classmates dropped out in eleventh grade and a few months later got married the second she turned eighteen. It is disheartening that there are families like hers in this day and age.

Moments like these remind me I’m one of the lucky ones and to never take my parents for granted.

“What did Papa say?” I ask, sitting up straight. “Is it the hostel fee? Is it too costly?”

Since St. Mary Media and Journalism University is an expensive college with a crowd of students from wealthy families, I had also applied for a scholarship. Sadly, I didn’t receive it as they had a small quota.

It left my dad with no option but to take a loan to cover the college fee while their savings allowed for me to stay at a hostel and cover the day-to-day expenses.

We are not poor but coming from a middle-class family, there are times when money is tight. It cements my desire to focus and motivates me to work harder and be financially independent. So that one day, I can take care of my parents.

“Hey,” my mom’s voice takes a stern note, “I told you to stop worrying about finances. Your only concern is to focus on your studies and achieve your dream.”

“I can’t help it, Ma. I don’t want to burden papa.”

“We appreciate your thoughtfulness,bacha. There’s nothing to stress about,” she replies with a reassuring smile, then teases, “we’ve been saving since you were ten years old and you told us you were going to be a news reporter when you grew up.”

I laugh, remembering my childhood. My favorite game used to be pretending to be a live reporter and going around the house covering made-up crimes. I would force Mom andDaduto play witnesses and interview them.

Slowly, my interest leaned toward written journalism before fixating on the investigative kind.

“I was merely suggesting that it’s not too late if you change your mind about the living arrangements,” shares my mom.

“My campus is two hours away,” I point out. “Without considering traffic. My classes will run till evening. So, traveling back and forth two to three hours every day will be super tiring. It makes sense if I live closer to my college. Plus, I don’t want to miss out on any experiences.”

My mom smiles and nods. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I’ll still come visit you, Dad, and Gramps every weekend,” I promise. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Oh, we will.” Her gaze softens. “The house will be quiet without you.”

“Aww, Ma,” I tease, making her eyes glisten.

“Oh, shush!”

“Imagine if I actually went to study in a different city.”

“Don’t make your ma cry first thing in the morning, Iris.”

I chuckle and rest my palm on her slender hand. “I can never live far away from you, Ma. You know that.”

“What about when you get married?”

I shrug. “Then you’ll come live with me.”

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