Every Actions equals Consequences.

'Why, father, why? How could you do this to us? I trusted you with my life; I wanted to believe in you, but you took all the pride I had." Deborah screamed at her dad as she fell to the floor, crying.

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_{15 minutes ago, before the incident.}

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The evening air was heavy in Deborah's with each breath she took. As she walked through the empty hall, each of her steps echoed through the hall, reminding her of her misfortune. The sounds of her steps gave her a soft embrace, like a person waiting for impending doom.

As she approached the ajar double doors that led to the study, her heart pounded with a ferocity that threatened to burst through her chest. This was the moment she had been dreading—a moment she had been waiting for but wasn't ready to take the bold step that would give her the answer she sought. She stood for a few minutes as she stared at the door, but waiting wouldn't solve the problem. She then took a decisive step.

Her hands trembled as she held the cold metal door handle. As she pushed open the door, the door creaked open, the sound akin to the mournful wail of a banshee, heralding the end of an era. As she entered the study, she saw her father sitting on his study chair, facing the long, broad window, while he had his back against her.

As soon as Deborah saw that her father didn't pay attention to the one that entered the room, his hands became cold as a child standing on the top of Mount Everest without any gloves. She walked as carefully as she could, but this time all the steps she took were soundless.

Deborah's gaze fell upon the imposing figure of her father as he kept staring at the window. His features were etched with lines of sorrow and regret, a testament to the weight of the burden he carried.

"Father," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wailing of the wind outside the window.

He turned towards her, his eyes reflecting the ghosts of a thousand unspoken truths. "Deborah, my dear," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I fear I have made a grave mistake, one that cannot be undone."

A chill ran down Deborah's spine, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, seeking comfort in the embrace of her own flesh.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asked, dreading the answer that would inevitably follow.

Her father's gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "I have gambled our fortune away, my child. The empire we built, the legacy we sought to preserve, has crumbled to dust."

Deborah has always known of her father's bad habit of gambling; they have spoken about it several times, and he has always promised to stop. He fell in debt, and it was sorted out, but he always believed he could win back all the money he had lost. After she had paid the last debt, he promised not to gamble again, so she gave him the money that she had been saving for her university program. He had promised to invest it in a business and give it to her in four months.

The words Deborah's father said hung in the air like a spiritual force was holding it, while Deborah raised her face to look at those words. In that moment, her world shattered, and the foundations upon which she had built her life crumbled beneath her feet.

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She stumbled back, her mind crushed from the revelation. The once-great family that commands respect in society will soon end up being an image of mockery.

'Why, father, why? How could you do this to us? I trusted you with my life; I wanted to believe in you, but you took all the pride I had." Deborah screamed at her dad as she fell to the floor, crying.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and bitter, as the weight of their newfound reality crashed down upon her. Everything she had known, everything she had taken for granted, was gone in an instant, swept away by the tides of her father's missteps.

As she sat on the floor crying, it was that moment that changed everything about her life. The future she had always thought of and the memories of fantasy she had created all vanished in that instant.

In that moment, she realized that the only constant in life was change and that the true measure of one's character lay not in the circumstances they were born into but in how they navigated the storms that inevitably arose.

At that same moment, Deborah stood up and gave her father one last stare. She walked towards him, then planted a kiss on his cheek, saying, "I will write to you." She walked through the mourning door with the determination never to return home until she made a name for herself.