Page 72 of My Rules for Revenge
After she calmed down, I managed to convince her to confront him with me. He needed to be punished for what he did. I deliberately took a page out of Heather’s book. I wanted revenge for what he did to us. Our family became broken because of him. It would only heal if he were out of the picture.
We patiently waited for him to come home. I told my mom that I would be the one talking and that if she had anything to add, she was more than welcome to do so. She warned me that he would not take it very well. I knew this already, but it needed to be done. Even if it turned out to be the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had.
He arrived just after midnight and was surprised to see both of us still awake. I asked him to take a seat because there was something that we needed to talk to him about. He reluctantly complied.
“What’s wrong? Why are you still awake, Indira? You have school tomorrow,” he pointed out.
“Listen, there’s no easy way to say this, but…we know you’ve been seeing another woman,” I remarked.
He rapidly blinked and lightly chuckled.
“What? What are you talking about? I’m married to your mother. I would never do anything like that. I would never think about doing something like that,” he assured.
“Why have you been coming home late the last few months, then?”
“I have late-night meetings at work,” he explained.
“You never had them before,” I exclaimed.
“Now we do. Things change,” he added.
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth. Look, this is ridiculous. I’m exhausted from work, and I need to go to sleep.”
As he was about to stand up, my mother made him sit back down.
“You told me you were late because of the late-night traffic. What late-night meetings are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned this before,” she said.
My father scrunched his face and rubbed his forehead. He appeared to be frustrated.
“It’s both, okay? There’s late-night traffic and late-night meetings. Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated? I’m not seeing another woman. The two of you are acting crazy,” he said.
“Are you sure that’s the story you want to go with?” I asked.
“What? What story? What are you talking about? That’s the truth. Don’t talk to me in that disrespectful tone. You need to control her.”
He squarely pointed at my mother, who placed her hand on my shoulder.
“She’s just talking to you. There’s no need to get upset,” she said nicely.
“I’m upset because she’s accusing me of being unfaithful to you,” he replied.
“Her name is Linda Newman,” I announced.
My father’s mouth clamped shut, and he remained silent. I took out my phone and sent him the evidence I had compiled.
“Look at your phone.”
He did as I ordered, and his face twisted in despair. He clenched his fists and punched the wall next to him.
“I don’t know what that is. What you sent me is garbage, and it’s not real. It’s not me. Someone’s trying to frame me. It’s all lies,” he defended.
“I got it from your laptop. The texts are yours. There’s no escaping the truth. You’re cheating on Mom, and you need to admit it,” I demanded.
“You’ve been snooping around my computer? When did you turn into such an insolent child? You’ve always been respectful and obedient. What has gotten into you?” he asked.
“You’re the sole reason I’m acting like this. Admit that you’re cheating on her. I want you to confess right now like a man,” I demanded.
