SCRATCH.SCRATCH. SCRATCH.SCRATCH. Fahan watched as Maya's pencil moved with calm, unhurried confidence.
Every delicate shadow, every subtle curve, every tiny detail seemed to appear effortlessly beneath her fingertips.
It no longer looked like a sketch, it looked as though someone had quietly stepped onto the paper and fallen asleep beneath the moonlight.
He found himself staring. For several moments, he forgot to speak."That's beautiful."
"Hmmmm?"
"I've seen professional artists spend hours trying to capture an expression like that."
His eyes returned to the drawing. "But yours, well it feels alive."
"I still have a lot to learn, Mr. Fahan."
"You're genuinely talented."
"I can draw a little."
Fahan looked at the lifelike portrait again. Then back at Maya.A helpless smile spread across his face. "If this is 'a little'..."
He shook his head with quiet amusement, "I'd like to see what you call being truly good."
Maya offered no reply. She simply closed the sketchbook with gentle care. "It's getting late
....You should go. Mr. Fahan."
He blinked, "...Go?"
Maya gave a small nod, "The night is almost over."
Farhan looked up at the star-filled sky before smiling helplessly, "You're right."
He rose from the bench and brushed a few fallen leaves from his clothes. "Good night, Maya."
Maya inclined her head ever so slightly. "Good night. Mr. Fahan."
Fahan took a few steps before glancing back one last time. Then he turned and disappeared along the winding stone path, leaving Maya alone.
You know … Fahan's eyes are beautiful, aren't they? Maya did not look up from her sketchbook.
Beautiful — beautiful. Yama practically lit up.
She clapped her hands together, once, twice, then again, unable to contain her delight.
Not just beautiful. Unfairly beautiful. That —particular shade of gray — the color of storm clouds that haven't decided yet whether they want to rain or simply watch the world below them fall apart.
I could look at them for hours. I could watch the light move through them — the way it shifts when he's thinking, the way it darkens when he's trying not to feel something.
Her voice softened, almost tender.
If only someone could take them out. Just pluck them from his face and keep them, put them in a little glass jar.
And every night, when the world is quiet, take them out and look at them. Just to remember what beauty looks like when it isn't trying.
She looked almost like a child who had just been handed front-row seats to a disaster.
Everyone in this family is a mine full of diamonds. Every single one of them. Beautiful . Priceless. And do you know what I think, Maya?"
I think it's a tragedy. A waste all that beauty, all that brilliance, locked inside a house. Locked inside people who don't even realize what they
have.
Her voice sharpened, just slightly.
I want to reach through the glass. I want to take every single one of them. I want to hold them in my hands and keep them where no one else can touch them.
Where no one else can break them. Where they belong to me. Only me.
Maya's pencil stopped and without any particular emphasis, she spoke, "You really are a twisted maniac."
Silence—Then Yama murmured, her voice warm with something dangerously close to affection.
Finally, finally, you've admitted it. That's the second time you've ever agreed with me.
"I didn't agree with you."
"You called me a twisted maniac."
"That wasn't a compliment, that was an observation."
I know. I know. That's what makes it beautiful. Do you even know how long I've waited to hear you say something honest about me? Something that wasn't just 'sleep' or 'you're impossible'?
"You are impossible."
I know but now you've also called me a twisted maniac. That's progress.
She leaned closer inside her mind, her blue eyes bright with lazy amusement.You know what I like about you, Maya?
"No."
I'll tell you anyway. You hate me a little. And you need me a little. You can't tell the difference. So, you just tolerate me ..... That's the most honest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Maya's pencil moved across the page. "Go to sleep, Yama."
"I'm not tired."
"Then stop talking."
Yama laughed,small, almost fondly but there was something strangely empty beneath it. You're so mean to me. I don't know why I stay.
Maya's eyes settled on her—calm and merciless.
"You stay because you have nowhere else to go."
The smile on Yama's face weakened. For once, she didn't immediately have a clever reply. She looked away, staring into the darkness. You're right. Where would I go?
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I suppose, I could disappear somewhere no one knows me. Somewhere no one knows what I've done.....But what would that change?
Her gaze lowered.No matter where I went, I'd still be me. Neither of them spoke. Somewhere in the distance, a nightingale began to sing.
The sound was strangely beautiful against the stillness of the night. Maya turned to a fresh page and began to draw. The pencil moved quietly across the paper.
Stroke by stroke as though Yama's words had never been spoken, as though she understood them better than anyone ever could.
---------
A phone rang, It vibrated once against the wooden surface of the desk. Then again.
A hand reached for it. The screen's light flickered to life, casting a pale, cold glow across the room and across the face of the man who answered it.
Rahat.
"Rahat." The voice on the other end was barely a voice at all. It was a sound — thin, scraped raw by exhaustion.
"We've been searching all night and all day too ...
We've done everything we can to track the entity. Everything. We pulled every log. Every server. Every packet that moved through our network that night.
We went through the traffic inch by inch. Line by line. We checked for signatures, for patterns.
But we've got nothing, nothing. Whoever this was , they didn't leave anything behind. It's like — it's like they were never there at all."
Dev's voice dropped, quieter now. Almost ashamed.
"Barely — and I mean barely — we managed to trace the location. The entity is somewhere in this country. That's all we know. That's all we could find.
We couldn't pin down the region. We couldn't even pin down the time zone properly."
He let out a breath. It shook.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you, Rahat? We are one of the best teams in the country. We have tools that most governments don't have.
And we spent hours chasing someone who undid a high-level intrusion and then just... disappeared. Like they were never there."
Silence.
"Alright. Go to sleep now."
"...Rahat?"
"You heard me, Dev. You and everyone else on that team — you've done enough. You'll all be getting a bonus, every one of you. I'll make sure of it."
There was a beat of silence on the other end.
Dev's exhaustion vanished.
Just like that. Fully gone as though someone had reached into his chest and flipped a switch."Heh heh..heh. Thanks, Rahat. See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Dev."
"Goodnight, Rahat."
The line went dead. The screen dimmed. The darkness returned swallowing the room whole.
Someone helps because they want something.
Someone saves because they need you. That's how it works.Then why would someone help us for no reason?
Someone had walked into their network. Their network. One of the most guarded systems in the country. And this entity had walked in like it was nothing.
He leaned back in his chair. His eyes were open, but he was not seeing the room.
And if they wanted to help us — why hide? Why?
Why help us and then disappear?
A pause.
I'll find out who they are. I'll find out what they want. I'll find out what they were doing in our system before the attack.
And when I do — I'll make sure they never walk into our network again.
[ NEXT MORNING , 06:05 AM ]
Warm morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Sunayana mansion, bathing the living room in a soft golden glow.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open French doors, carrying the fresh scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens outside.
The mansion was slowly coming to life. The clink of porcelain echoed from the dining hall.Servants moved quietly through the corridors, attending to the morning's duties with practiced efficiency.
In that hush, Maya stood at the curve of the staircase. One hand rested on the polished banister. Below her, servants moved silently.
She watched them the way she watched everything without expression. Footsteps approached from the corridor to her left.
Anjali. The maid was walking with a tray balanced against her hip, her eyes on the floor. She had almost passed the bottom of the stairs before she noticed the small figure standing there.
She stopped immediately. "Miss Maya." She bowed her head. "Good morning."
Maya turned her head. "Good morning."
The maid smiled,"You're up early, Miss. It's barely past six."
"I woke up."
Anjali nodded as though this were the — most natural explanation in the world. "Shall I bring you some tea? Or breakfast? The kitchen is just starting—"
"Anjali."
The maid paused. "Yes, Miss?"
Maya's eyes returned to the hall below. "I have not seen Mr. Farhan in two days . He was there on the first morning. But I have not seen him since."
She paused. "Has he gone somewhere?"
The maid's fingers tightened around the edge of the tray. "No, Miss. Master Farhan does not go out."
Maya's gaze did not move from the hall below. "He doesn't go out."
"No, Miss."
"At all?"
Anjali hesitated.
Her eyes darted toward the corridor, checking — the way she always did — whether anyone was within earshot. There was no one.
"He stays in his room, Miss. Most of the time. He does not come down unless it is necessary. He does not eat with the family.
He does not join them in the evenings. He has been that way for some time."
Maya said nothing.
"On the day you arrived — the day Madam brought you home Master Farhan had to be brought downstairs. He would not have come otherwise."
Maya finally turned her head. "Brought?"
"He was in his room. He refused to come out. Madam had to send Master Fahim to speak with him. It took almost an hour. In the end, they practically had to—"
She stopped.Her teeth pressed against her lower lip — a sharp, sudden pressure, the way a person bites down when they realize they have said too much.
"Miss. I have already said more than I should."
"Okay. Thank you for telling me, Anjali."
Anjali bowed her head, relieved. "Of course, Miss. If you need anything—"
"I will call for you."
"Yes, Miss." Anjali shifted the tray and walked quickly toward the kitchen.
Inside Maya's mind, something stirred — lazy and delighted, like a cat stretching after a long night. Farhan.
Yama's voice curled through her thoughts like smoke.
The one I hasn't seen in two days. The one who doesn't leave his room. The one who has to be dragged out of bed by his brothers just to sit at a table with his own family.
She paused. Savoring it.
It means he's broken. Properly broken. Not the way the others are—not the way Fahad is cold and Fahim is detached.
Yama's voice softened, almost tender.
He ..... he is just gone. He's a piano with the keys pulled out and the most interesting person in this house. I like him.
Maya closed her eyes for exactly one second.
"You like him."
Yes.
"Why?"
Because he's broken. Maya's eyes opened.
Oh, don't look at me like that.You know very well that I like broken things. I always have. Broken things are honest.
Broken things don't pretend. They can't. They've lost the ability. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I want to see him. I want to see what's left of him.
Yama's voice drifted on, dreamy now.
Everyone in this family is a mine full of diamonds, Priceless. All of them. But Farhan — Farhan isn't just a normal diamond. Farhan is a diamond that someone dropped. Cracked down the middle.
And instead of throwing it away, the family keeps picking it up and polishing it and putting it back on the shelf like nothing happened.
Maya said nothing.
Everyone wants to fix him, they all want to put him back together. And that's why they've all failed.Because you can't put a person back together. Not really.
You can glue the pieces. You can pretend the thing is whole again. But it's not and that's the beautiful tragedy.
They keep trying to — fix him and every time they fail, they walk away a little more broken themselves.
Her voice softened — almost tender.
I've been thinking — what if — someone did it properly? What if someone actually succeeded?
What if someone walked into that room and put Farhan back together? Piece by piece. Until he was whole again — until he was laughing again.
Her voice dropped.And then, when he was whole , when he was happy, when he was finally healed—What if that someone broke him again?
Silence.
What if someone walked into that room .... sat beside him, held his hand, told him it would be okay and then, when he finally believed it —
pulled the ground out from under him?
Her voice curled — pleased. That's the most fun I can imagine.That's the most beautiful thing I can imagine.
To put a person back together just to break them again,to give them something just to take it away.
That's the real art, Maya.
Silence settled between them — thick, the kind of silence that filled the space between two people who had known each other too long to pretend.
And then — so quietly that it barely registered as speech — Maya spoke. "Your mind is beautiful.... Twisted, unique. The ideas that come out of your head, sometimes even I sit back and stare."
She lifted her hand and gave a thumbs up.
Yama said, her voice bright with pride.
See? You have to see whose idea it was .... I have various methods. I told you, didn't I? I like broken things. So if something isn't broken — I break it myself.
You could say, if butter doesn't come out with a straight finger, you have to bend the finger.
Maya blinked once. "Straight finger, bend the finger."
Exactly.
"That's not a real saying."
It is now. I just made it up.
"That's not how sayings work."
It is now. I just decided.
Maya closed her eyes for exactly one second.
"You're impossible."
I know.
You're twisted.
I know.
You're a maniac.
I know and yet you keep me around. Why is that, Maya? Why do you keep me around, why do you let me sit in your head and talk and talk and talk?
Why don't you just push me out? Lock me away? Bury me somewhere I can't reach you?
Silence.
Because you can't — you need me. Because I'm the only part of you that can do what needs to be done.
Maya's fingers tightened around the banister.
"Go to sleep, Yama."
I'm not tired.
"You are."
I'm not.
"Then stop talking."
I don't want to.
"Then talk quietly."
You're so mean to me, do you know that? You're the meanest person I've ever met. You never let me have any fun.You're boring. You are the most boring person I've —
"Yama."
Fine. Fine but I want you to know, I meant what I said about Farhan. I meant all of it. Every word.
And you—you didn't say no, Maya. You didn't tell me to stop. You didn't tell me it was wrong. You just stood there and listened.
You're already thinking about it, aren't you? You are already picturing it.....
"Enough."
You're already —
" I said enough. Stay quiet for a while.You are irritating me so much,it is early in the morning and you have already exhausted my patience."
Okay, okay. I'll be quiet — but only because you asked so nicely. Don't get too used to it, though. I'm not suddenly becoming — obedient — just because you gave me that look.
I could keep talking just to annoy you, you know. I have plenty of things to say and trust me, I'm very good at saying them.
But since you asked so sweetly and I suppose I can afford to be generous this time. Just this once. Happy now?
"Very."
"Maya." The voice came from behind her. Soft. Slightly hoarse.
Maya turned. "Yes, Mr. Fahish. "
Fahish stood a few steps behind her, one hand pressed against his face. His hair was a mess —his eyes were red-rimmed, his shirt was wrinkled, half-tucked into his trousers.
He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Why are you up so early, sister?"
Maya looked at him for a moment. Then inclined her head, the same measured gesture she gave everyone. "I don't sleep much."
Fahish let out a tired breath . "Neither do I. You know, you don't have to stand here like a guard. You're allowed to sit."
"I know."
"Do you?" Fahish studied her for a moment — his gaze dropped to her hands, to the gloves, he did not comment.
Instead, he yawned. Wide, unguarded, the yawn of someone who had forgotten to be polite. "Come downstairs. I'll make you tea."
"I don't —"
"Or coffee," he corrected as though catching himself. "You look like a coffee person."
Maya blinked once. "...Coffee."
Fahish nodded, satisfied as though this were a great victory. "Good."
He turned and began walking down the stairs. His footsteps were quiet — lighter than Faha's.
At the bottom, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Are you coming or are you going to stand there until the moon comes up?"
Maya descended after him.
Fahish crossed to the wide sofa near the window and sank into it. He gestured vaguely toward the seat beside him. "Sit."
Maya sat, not beside him, on the far end of the sofa , the corner closest to the door. Her back was to the light.
Fahish noticed. He did not comment. He turned toward her and there was something different in his expression now.
As though he were approaching a subject he had been thinking about for a long time. "Maya."
"Yes, Mr. Fahish?"
He winced . "'Mr. Fahish.' You keep saying that. Like I'm a stranger."
"You are." The words were not cruel. They were not even cold. They were simply — true.
Fahish held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, as though accepting a fact he did not like. "Fair enough."
He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a book. It was small, worn at the corners, the cover a dark matte black with silver lettering. He placed it on the table between them and pushed it gently toward her. "This is mine."
Maya looked at the book. Then at him.
"I wrote it. It's a mystery thriller. It took me three years to finish. The title is Mystery of the Void."
Maya's eyes returned to the book. Fahish watched her . "Read it and tell me what you think."
"...Why?"
Fahish blinked. "Why what?"
"Why do you want me to read it?"
"Because you don't know me yet, so you don't have any reason to lie to me. Everyone else in this house has already read it.
They've all told me it's good and I don't trust any of them."
"Okay, Mr. Fahish."
Fahish let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. "You don't have to be so serious about it. Just — read it at your own pace and when you're done, tell me the truth."
"Okay."
Maya picked up the book and within seconds, her shoulders soft, her eyes moving down the page with the focused. She turned the first —page.Then the second.
Fahish watched her from behind his coffee cup. He had expected her to flip through it politely —expected her to set it aside after ten minutes and say something neutral. He had not expected this.
From the staircase, footsteps. Faha descended with the easy stride. He was halfway across the living room before he noticed the scene.
"Maya? You're up this early?" He looked at the book in her hands, then at Fahish, then back at the book. "You're making her read your book ? Already? It's barely six in the morning."
Fahish looked up, unbothered. "I'm not making her do anything. I gave it to her. She chose to read it."
"She chose? She's been here for two days, bro . She probably thinks she's not allowed to say no."
Fahish glanced toward Maya, who had not looked up from the page,"It's true, she does seem very obedient."
Faha folded his arms, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "And you are taking advantage of that." Maya turned another page. Neither of them seemed to notice.
Faha leaned closer to his twin, dropping his voice , "You know, you could have at least waited until after breakfast, she might not even like thrillers."
"She does."
"How do you know?"
"Look at her face."
Faha looked.
Maya's expression was the same as it always was. And yet, there was something about the way her eyes moved across the page.
His grin faded. "She actually likes it."
"I told you."
"You could have waited until breakfast."
"I did not want to wait until breakfast."
Faha let out another sigh, this one longer and more theatrical than the last, he turned his head toward Maya, "Sister."
Maya looked up from the page. "Yes, Mr. Faha?"
"For the record—Fahish's book is actually good. He's a writer and a decent one, annoyingly so."
Fahish glanced at him. "Was that a compliment?"
"It was an insult disguised as a compliment."