Naya leaned back and tucked one leg beneath her on the sofa.
"For my part — if you want to know about me — I studied fashion design at Haverford — it's in the north, a small campus, cold most of the year.
Fahan and I went there together. He was in engineering, I was in design."
She reached for the teapot and turned it once in her hands as though the motion helped her think.
"Haverford isn't a grand university. My mother wanted me to go somewhere prestigious. But I chose Haverford because it was quiet.
Because nobody there knew my family name. Because for two years, I got to be just Naya — just a girl who liked fabrics."
Maya inclined her head slightly. "I see, Miss Naya."
"So— by now, you probably have some idea of this family. The structure, the madness.It's a lot to take in on your second morning."
Maya looked at her for a moment. Then she said, quietly, "Thank you for telling me all of this."
It was the first time she had thanked anyone without attaching a title to it.
Naya noticed, she did not comment. She simply reached for the cake. "Would you like more?"
"No, Miss Naya."
Across the sofa, Ohi lifted his head from his phone. "Again with the 'Miss.'"
Maya went very still.
Ohi raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm just saying..... You've said 'Miss Naya' about six times in the last ten minutes. It's starting to sound like a business card."
Naya shot him a look —annoyed, the kind of look a person gives a brother who has just stepped on a rake. "Ignore him."
Maya's eyes flicked briefly toward Ohi. Then back to Naya. "Alright, Miss. Naya. I'm ignoring him."
Naya's lips twitched. Ohi stared at Maya for a long second, then let out a short, disbelieving breath and looked back at his phone.
From the far end of the sofa, Nahi, who had been scribbling in his notebook, spoke without looking up. "You know, you're very obedient. Maya."
Maya turned her head toward him. "Thank you, Mr. Nahi. " Nahi's pen stopped, he looked up. "That wasn't a compliment."
"I took it as one."
Nahi stared at her. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth pulled upward. "Okay," he said. "That's — okay. That's actually kind of funny."
Naya reached across the table and placed a pastry on Maya's plate. "Maya."
"Yes, Miss Naya?"
"Here. Eat more. You've been sitting there for twenty minutes with the same pastry in your hand. You took one bite.
One. And then you just — stopped. Like you forgot you were supposed to be eating."
"I was listening."
"You were listening. You were listening so hard you forgot to chew?"
Maya said nothing.
Naya leaned forward and her voice dropped — The voice of someone who had spent years chasing two monkeys. "Look at me."
Maya looked at her.
"You're too thin. I noticed it at breakfast. You ate almost nothing — a little rice, a few vegetables, and then you pushed the rest around your plate like it was a puzzle you didn't want to solve.
I let it go ... I thought — she's new, she's nervous, she'll settle in. But it's been hours. And you're still doing it. Do not think I didn't notice."
Ohi, who had been pretending to scroll through his phone, glanced up.
Maya looked down at the pastry. Then — quietly, almost too quietly to hear, she said, "Okay, Miss Naya." She picked up the pastry and took a small bite.
Naya watched her for a second longer, then nodded once and leaned back against the sofa.
"Good. And if you need anything, food or otherwise — you tell me. Understood?"
Maya looked at her. "...Understood, Miss Naya."
Naya sighed — a affectionate sigh. "We'll work on the 'Miss' thing later."
From the far end of the sofa, Nahi muttered, "Good luck with that."
Naya shot him a look. "You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to help."
Ohi finally looked up from his phone, glanced between the two of them, and then looked at Maya.
"You know, for someone who doesn't talk much, you cause a lot of trouble."
Maya took another bite of her pastry. "I'll try not to do that. Mr. Ohi."
Ohi blinked. "Try not to do what? Cause trouble? Or not talk?"
"Both. "
"That's not an answer."
"It's the best one I have. Mr. Ohi."
Nahi, from the far end of the sofa, finally looked up from his notebook. He watched Maya for a second, then turned to Ohi. "She's impossible."
"I know. Completely impossible."
"And she does it without even trying."
"I know."
Naya, who had been quietly sipping her tea, set her cup down and smiled into it."Leave her alone, both of you, she's doing fine."
The hall had settled into its usual mid — morning quiet,the tea had gone lukewarm in the porcelain pot. The plates of cake sat half-finished.
Suddenly, Ohi stopped scrolling , he lowered the phone and turned his head toward Maya. "Maya."
Maya looked up from her plate. "Yes, Mr. Ohi?"
Ohi leaned forward — just slightly — and lowered his voice in a way that made Naya and Nahi both go quiet.
"About your little aunt. If you ever happen to run into her and I mean anywhere. In the corridor. In the garden. In the dining hall.
Just quietly slip away, don't stop, don't stare. Don't make conversation, just…leave. Okkk."
Maya considered him for a moment. Then she asked, very calmly, "Alright but why, Mr. Ohi?"
"She's very angry, all the time."
"That is not very specific."
"It's the only specific thing I can tell you." Ohi leaned forward a little more, "She's angry but you can never see it. Because—because she wears a white cloth over her eyes."
"A blindfold."
"Yeah. A white cloth. Always. Every day, from the moment she wakes up to the moment she sleeps.
No one has ever seen her eyes. You can never tell if she's angry or calm. If she's pleased or planning something. "
Maya said nothing.
"She's the only person in this family I have never been able to read beside you."
Naya set her cup down, "Ohi's right. I've known her for a year now and I still don't know her, not really."
She looked down at her hands.
"She doesn't eat with us, doesn't sit with us in the evenings. She comes and goes as she pleases. When the family gathers for dinner, she is there and then she is not.
And you never see her leave. You just look up, and the chair is empty and when she is here…"
She stopped.
"When she is here, the whole house feels like fire. The air gets heavier like the rooms are smaller. Like everyone is holding their breath without realizing they're holding it."
Nahi closed the notebook.
"You know, there's something else. Something I've never said out loud. Because I didn't know how to say it. Because it sounds strange.
I've seen her walk through the east corridor. And she walks like she can see. I mean she walks like she can see, Not like someone feeling their way.
Not like someone counting steps. She walks like someone who knows exactly where every piece of furniture is.
I've watched her walk — through rooms she's never been in before, through corridors she's only passed once and she never touches the walls. She never stumbles."
He turned toward Maya. "And sometimes .... I wonder if she can actually see better than the rest of us."
Naya's voice, when she finally spoke, was barely above a whisper. "Nahi…"
"I know. I know how it sounds. It sounds like I'm saying she's not blind. It sounds like I'm saying she's pretending. But, I'm not saying that."
He looked at Maya.
" You're new here. You're the only person in this family who hasn't learned to be afraid of her yet. So maybe it's fair that you hear it from me."
"Thank you, Mr. Nahi," Maya said quietly.
"For what?"
"For telling me."
Naya reached for the teapot, then stopped. She looked at Maya. " If you see her, slip away quietly. Think before you act. Watch before you speak .... And if you can avoid her entirely — do it then."
Maya was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I understand, Miss Naya. "
Silence. Then, she asked, " but why does she wear it?" Naya looked up, "Photophobia."
"Photophobia."
"Yes." Nahi nodded.
"It's a condition. A sensitivity to light. Her eyes can't handle light. The doctors say it's a rare case.
It causes pain, sometimes severe. In really bad cases, it can trigger seizures. It depends on the person. From what I've heard—hers is severe, very severe.
It's why she wears the cloth every day. All day. If she takes it off, even for a minute, in the wrong light — she can't function. The pain is that bad."
[ AFTER ONE HOUR]
The side hall had grown warm with the slow crawl of late morning. The tea in the pot had gone cold twice over. The pastries on the plate had been reduced to crumbs.
Naya glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
"It's almost noon, you should go and freshen up. You've been sitting here for hours, Maya."
Maya looked up from her plate. "Alright, Miss Naya."
"Go on. I'll see you at lunch."
Maya rose without hurry. She smoothed the front of her simple dark shirt. She adjusted the position of her glasses on her nose and walked toward the door.
Anjali was waiting in the corridor. She bowed her head as Maya approached. "This way, Miss."
They walked in silence.
The corridors were quieter now than they had been in the morning, the servants had finished their rounds. The tall windows let in long panels of white light.
Back in her room, she closed the door behind her, she walked to the wardrobe, opened it and took out a simple change of clothes — a dark, long-sleeved shirt, dark trousers.
She went to the bathroom.
[ MIDNIGHT ] The mansion had gone quiet.
The corridors were empty, The grand hall so alive with servants and family and morning light, now lay still and pale beneath the moon.
Maya sat in the armchair beside the window. She had been reading — a thin, dark volume, one of the books she had pulled from the library the day before.
The room was illuminated by pale moonlight, spilling through the open balcony doors and pooling across the floor in long silver sheets.
A cool night breeze drifted in, gently stirring the white curtains, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine and cut grass.
Maya closed the book, she set it on the arm of the chair. Her movements were so light that the wooden floor made no sound beneath her feet.
She reached the balcony doors, the stone was cold beneath her bare feet, she walked to the railing and rested one hand lightly on it. Her gloved fingers curled around the edge.
Beyond the balcony, the estate stretched into the distance. Gardens, pathways, ancient trees. The long white driveway, gleaming faintly under the moon.
Ohhhh. You're awakeand you're standing on a balcony, and you're looking at the moon like a heroine in a novel.
Maya did not respond, her dark eyes fixed on the ground below. Three floors down.
You're looking down. I know that look. I know that look very well. That's the look you get when ..... you're about to do something that no one has asked you to do.
Something that is, objectively speaking, a very bad idea.
Maya's fingers curled once around the railing. Then relaxed.
So .... So, Yama's voice softened into something almost playful. Tell me. Am I right? Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?
Maya did not answer.
Because if you are, I want you to know that I fully support this stupid decision. I have been waiting for something interesting to happen all day.
Maya did not answer.
But if you're not, then I have to say, you're being very boring. Standing on a balcony at midnight, staring at the ground like a heroine in a tragedy.
Maya did not answer. So. Which is it?
"I'm going down."
Yama was silent for exactly one second. Then she burst out laughing, a bright, delighted laugh.
I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. You're insane.
"I know."
I love it. Yama's voice curled with something that might have been admiration.
Oh ....God, I absolutely love it. Do you know how long it's been since you did something reckless? Something that has absolutely no purpose — whatsoever?
Maya's hand tightened once around the railing. Then relaxed. "Be quiet."
Fine. Fine, I'll be quiet. But only because I want to watch — if you fall, I'm not catching you.
"I know."
Good. Yama settled back somewhere deep in Maya's mind as though she were pulling up a chair to watch a show. Just remember —
It's the third floor, that's a long way down. If you slip, you don't get a second chance. And if you die, I die too. So, you know. No pressure.
"I know."
Yama groaned. You're impossible.
"I know."
Fine. Fine. Fine. Do what you want. But I'm going to be here the whole time, narrating. Providing commentary.
"I expected nothing less."
Maya turned her attention to the balcony railing and with effortless precision, she climbed over it.
Her movements were smooth.
As though the three-story drop below her was nothing more than a detail. Her feet found the narrow stone ledge on the other side of the railing.
She lowered herself down — until her body was pressed against the exterior wall of the mansion.
Yama's voice drifted through her thoughts, bright and delighted. Reminder : It's the third floor.
Maya did not respond.
It's very high. If you fall from here, you don't get up. You don't crawl. You just — Yama paused as though savoring the word — stop.
Maya began her descent.
She caught the decorative stone edge below her — a carved ledge that ran along the exterior wall, wide enough for her fingers to grip. Her gloved hands held firm. She lowered herself smoothly, her body moving in one continuous, fluid motion.
Her feet found the next ledge. Then the next. The carved stones built into the mansion's exterior — decorative elements that had been placed there for beauty.
Her feet touched the grass.
She straightened her clothes, brushed a few blades of grass from her sleeves and began walking through the moonlit garden.
The garden at night was a different world entirely.
Fireflies drifted lazily above the hedges.
Eventually, she reached an old wooden bench beneath a sprawling banyan tree. She looked at the bench, then sat down.
She reached for the satchel she had brought with her — the same worn leather bag she had carried from the village. She drew out a sketchbook. She set it on her lap and began to draw.
[SCRATCH. SCRATCH. SCRATCH. SCRATCH. SCRATCH. SCRATCH]
The pencil moved across the page. Gradually, a face began to emerge. A boy's face. Wide eyes. A shy, uncertain smile. Dark hair falling across a pale forehead.
SCRATCH. SCRATCH. SCRATCH.
Hmmm. Yama leaned closer — your drawing skills are improving. You draw him every night. Every single night. The same face. The same eyes. The same smile.
You like drawing the same thing over and over again. Doesn't it get boring?
Maya's pencil stopped. Just for a moment. Then it resumed. "Hmm."
That's all you're going to say?
"Hmm."
Yama was quiet for a moment. Then, softer — almost curious: You draw him like you're afraid you'll forget.
Her hand stopped. A presence. Somewhere beyond the line of ancient trees.
Then— In the same steady voice she used to speak to servants and brothers and strangers alike — she said, "...You can come out now."
The figure hidden among the shadows froze.
"How the hell did she—?"
He had been careful. He had been so careful. He was standing dozens of meters away, concealed behind the thick trunk of an old banyan tree. And yet—
Maya calmly added, "There's no point in hiding."
The stranger's eyes widened.
She isn't even facing me. How did she notice? How could she possibly know? I didn't move. I didn't breathe. There's no way she—
For several seconds, he remained motionless.
Perhaps she had sensed something and was only testing the air. Perhaps if I stayed still — perfectly still, she would assume she had been wrong.
Maya quietly closed her sketchbook. "If I were guessing, I wouldn't have spoken with such certainty."
The stranger's expression changed. Surprise gave way to genuine astonishment.
She even understood what I was thinking . She heard me deciding whether to stay hidden. And she answered me before I even spoke.
A quiet breath escaped him. Almost a laugh. Almost a sigh. "Im...Impressive."
Slowly, he stepped out from behind the tree.
Fahan. He let out a quiet sigh, " ...I suppose there's no point hiding anymore."
He looked at Maya. She had not turned around. She still sat with her back to him, facing the pond.
"...You really are frightening sometimes."
Maya did not respond. Fahan approached at an unhurried pace. He stopped several meters from the bench, not invading her space. "Can I ask you something?"
"...Yes, Mr. Fahan."
Fahan folded his arms. "I was at least fifteen meters away. You never looked behind you. How? How did you know I was there?"
"I'm simply accustomed to noticing small changes."
"That's not an answer most people would give."
He glanced at the empty space at the opposite end of the bench. Then he walked over and sat down at the far end.
He glanced at her, a little uncertain. "Did I scare you?"
Maya shook her head. "No, Mr. Fahan."
Fahan gradually wandered to the sketchbook. From where he sat, he could see the portrait slowly forming. "Ahem. You're very talented."
"Thank you, Mr. Fahan."
Fahan looked at her hands. At the gloves. At the way she had not taken them off — not even now.
He did not comment.
"Ahem...Ahem. Your way of getting down from the balcony was impressive."
The pencil stopped. "You saw that?"
Fahan nodded. He did not look at her. He looked out across the moonlit pond, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped.
"I was standing by my window. I do that when I.... can't sleep. I just stand there, watch the garden. Listen to the night, the way I always do and then I saw something move. "
He looked toward the upper floor of the mansion.
"I saw someone climb over the railing. From the third floor. In the middle of the night. Barefoot.My first thought was intruder.
My second thought was—" He stopped. Then he said, more quietly, "My second thought was that someone had finally come for us."
Maya's pencil paused, just for a heartbeat. Then resumed.
"I know that sounds paranoid but you don't grow up in this family without learning to think like that. There are people out there who would love to get inside these walls. "
He looked down at his hands. "So .... when I saw someone climbing down the side of the mansion, I was about to shout."
A quiet laugh escaped him. "Then the moonlight hit your face. So, I followed you.
I wanted to know where you were going. Why you were going. What would make a girl climb down the side of a mansion in the middle of the night. I really wasn't following you."
"I know."
Fahan blinked. "You know?"
"I knew you were following me."
Fahan stared at her. "Then why didn't you—"
"Because you were just curious. And curiosity is not a crime."
Fahan opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it.
"I suppose I wasn't as discreet as I imagined."
Maya resumed drawing.
Ohhhh. Look at this. Sitting on a bench in the middle of the night with a boy. He's not a boy, though, is he? He's your brother.
"You know, you're strangely difficult to read."
Maya looked back down at the sketch in her hands. "So are you."
"Me?"
"Yes."
A tiny pause. Then Maya added, completely seriously,"You followed me into the garden at midnight."
"When you put it that way, I sound suspicious."
"You are suspicious."
"I was curious."
"That is not always better."
Fahan couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough."
Maya's pencil moved across the page.