Queen 's performance
603 Words
Chapter: The Queen's Performance
The energy in the room was electric as I walked onto the stage. The crowd was going wild, screaming and chanting my name. It was a feeling I had come to love—the adrenaline, the excitement, and the connection I shared with my audience. But tonight, it felt different. The spotlight hit me, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.
I closed my eyes for a second and began singing. The words of the song, the melody, everything flowed through me like it had a life of its own.
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"Tu Jaha Main Bhi Wahi
Ishq Ki Teri Faramosh Mein"
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My voice filled the air, and I could feel every note resonating deep within my soul. The crowd’s reactions—cheering, chanting my name—only pushed me to give more. Khushi! Khushi! Khushi! Khushi! The room erupted, and I couldn't help but smile. I finished the song with a flourish, blew a kiss to my fans, and made my way off the stage.
As soon as I stepped backstage, my bodyguards and assistants were waiting. Wani, my ever-efficient assistant, rushed toward me.
"Miss Khushi, Mr. Singhania’s call came through. He wants to speak to you," she said, her voice a little rushed, almost anxious.
I looked at her without a hint of expression. "Why?"
Wani lowered her gaze, handing me the phone. "I’m not sure, but he said it was urgent."
I took the phone from her and dialed the number saved under Mr. Singhania. The phone rang a few times before it was answered.
"What happened, Mr. Singhania?" My voice was cold and distant. I didn’t have time for pleasantries.
His voice thundered through the receiver, his anger evident. "Show some respect, Khushi! I’m your father!"
I didn’t flinch. "If there’s something important, speak. Otherwise, I don’t have time to waste on meaningless conversations."
I could hear his frustration grow as he continued, "Where are you right now? Why haven’t you come home for days?"
I cut him off, my voice sharp and cutting. "I don’t like fake sympathy, Mr. Singhania. So drop the act and get to the point. I know well enough that even if I were to die, it wouldn’t matter to you. So, what do you need from me?"
He was silent for a moment. I could practically feel him struggling to keep his temper in check. Finally, he spoke, his voice tight with anger. "There are some problems at the office. Your brother has been meddling, and it’s causing complications."
Before he could go on, I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. "See, Mr. Singhania, I know you too well. You wouldn’t have called me unless it was for something work-related. And while we’re at it, where’s your useless son? The one who does nothing but waste space?"
"Shut up, Khushi!" His voice rose, but I didn’t care. "I didn’t adopt you to have you speak to me like this. Do you understand?"
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to snap. But I kept my voice calm, measured. "The only reason I’m tolerating this and listening to you is because I have no other choice, Mr. Singhania. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste a second on your nonsense. And for the record, next time, speak to me with some respect, because I can raise my voice too. As for Oberoi, I’ll handle him tomorrow."
Before he could say anything else, I hung up the phone, the click of the disconnect echoing in my ears.
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Why am I so rude? Am I really adopted?
To find out, keep reading My Sparkly Firefly...
- Writer
