The restaurant had quietened since they sat down.
A few couples lingered near the windows, their laughter subdued, the clink of glasses faint under the warm lantern light. Kieran and Aarti's table was tucked into the corner, shielded from most prying eyes.
For the first time in years, they sat across from one another, not as siblings, not as enemies but as strangers who'd been torn apart and wanted to be stitched back together.
Kieran broke the silence first again.
"…How's Mira?" His voice was softer now, almost cautious, as if he were afraid the name itself might hurt.
Aarti blinked, then exhaled slowly. "Mira… she's grown. Taller than I expected. Still has that stubborn streak, though." A faint smile touched her lips. "She used to ask about you a lot. But not that often now, just enough to make it clear she hasn't forgotten that you were her older brother."
Keiran's chest tightened. "…She must hate me."
"No." Aarti shook her head firmly. "She doesn't hate you. She… doesn't understand you. That's different."
Keiran looked down at his hands. His knuckles were scarred, his palms rough. "She was only a kid when I left. She must have thought I abandoned her too."
"Maybe she did," Aarti admitted. "But she also remembers how you used to shield her from Father's temper. How you'd sneak her sweets when Mother said no. Those memories didn't vanish."
Keiran's lips twitched into the faintest smile, though his eyes were damp. "Mira…" he whispered, almost to himself.
Silence lingered, heavy but not suffocating this time.
Then Keiran's gaze hardened slightly. "…And what about them? Father and Mother. How are they?"
Aarti hesitated, her eyes dropping. "…The same. Father hasn't changed. Still rigid, still controlling. And Mother…" She trailed off, then forced the words out. "She endures. Like she always has. Anything to look good for society, huh?"
Keiran's jaw clenched. He could almost see their house again: the long dinners filled with silence, the cold reprimands, and the invisible rules that suffocated every breath. "I knew it," he muttered. "That's why I left. Staying there was like slowly drowning."
"And yet," Aarti said quietly, "I stayed."
Her words weren't an accusation this time, just a fact.
Keiran looked at her sharply. "Why? You're stronger than anyone I know. You could've left too."
Aarti's lips curved bitterly. "Strength doesn't always mean freedom. Someone had to hold the family together, Keiran. Someone had to stay for Mira. If we both ran, what would've happened to her?"
Keiran fell silent. He hated the truth in her words.
"…I thought leaving would make me free," he said finally. "But even now, I carry it. All of it. The guilt. The anger. The memories. It's like I never escaped at all."
Aarti studied him for a long moment. "…You have changed."
He looked up at her, brow furrowing. "How so?"
Her eyes softened. "You're harder now. More guarded. But… you're also more alive. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but… I can see it. You've found something that gives you purpose, even if you don't want to admit it."
Keiran leaned back in his chair, exhaling. "…Maybe. Or maybe I just got good at pretending."
Aarti's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You always were good at pretending."
They both chuckled quietly; it was the first time laughter had bridged the space between them since the reunion.
Then Keiran leaned forward, his voice low. "Do you regret it? Staying? Carrying all of it?"
Aarti didn't answer immediately. She glanced down at her hands, her scholar's ring glinting faintly in the light. "…Some nights, yes. But other nights… I remember Mira's face when she laughs or the small moments when Mother seemed lighter because I was there to share the weight. And I think… maybe it was worth it."
Keiran swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in his throat. "...I'm sorry. For leaving you to carry all of it."
Aarti reached across the table. Her hand hesitated for a moment, then touched his. "And I'm sorry for trying to resent you for it. Maybe we both did what we thought we had to do."
Keiran stared at her hand on his, then met her eyes. For once, there was no wall, no figure at the end of the table to keep the silence, just his sister.
"…We're a mess," he whispered.
Aarti smiled faintly. "We always were."
The moment stretched, fragile but real.
Finally, Keiran leaned back, clearing his throat. "…What about you, though? Enough about me. How did you end up in the Scholars? That's no small feat."
Her expression shifted, a flicker of pride showing. "Hard work. Discipline. And maybe a little luck. Graham saw potential in me, and… well, you don't turn down the Commander of the Scholars."
Keiran's brow furrowed slightly at the name, but he didn't press. "And you're happy there?"
Aarti paused, her smile faint but genuine. "…Happier than I was at home."
Keiran nodded slowly. "…Then I'm glad."
For a while, they just sat there, just talking, as brother and sister, trying to rebuild something fragile. The food in front of them went cold, but neither cared.
Outside, the city pulsed with life, the Colosseum lights glowing in the distance. Inside, two siblings finally began to bridge the years of silence that had divided them.
The plates between them were nearly empty, with only stray grains of rice and streaks of curry left behind. Keiran leaned back, lifting his beer for another long drink, while Aarti swirled her orange juice with the straw, the clink of ice against glass filling the momentary quiet.
"So…" she began, her voice casual but her eyes sharp. "Tell me more about this scholarship. You make it sound easy, but I know you, Kieran. Since you were little, you hated studying."
Keiran smirked, running a thumb across the rim of his glass. "Yeah, I did. But when you've got no safety net, no family to run back to… Well, suddenly textbooks start looking a lot friendlier. I pulled all-nighters, picked up side jobs, and even tutored a few guys who couldn't spell their own names. By the time exams rolled around, I wasn't just scraping by; I was the class topper."
Aarti raised her brows. "You? Top of the class?"
"Don't sound so surprised," he said, mock-offended. "Turns out desperation is a better motivator than ambition."
Her lips quirked in a small smile, pride flickering in her eyes despite her teasing. "I guess you really grew up."
Keiran took another drink, hiding the warmth that crept into his chest.
After a pause, Aarti leaned forward slightly, her tone lighter. "And this Roy you mentioned earlier. How did you two even meet?"
Keiran paused, carefully crafting his words. The truth, of a blood-soaked night and a boy with a bag over his head, wasn't something she could ever know. So he leaned back, keeping his voice steady.
"Simple, really. On the first day of classes, he walked in late, typical of him, to be honest. The only open seat was next to me; it turns out he was new student…"
Aarti tilted her head. "That's it? Just like that?"
"Yeah." Keiran smirked faintly. "We sat next to each other and started talking during breaks. It turned out we were both bored out of our minds with the lectures, so we'd end up passing comments back and forth to keep ourselves awake. Before I knew it, he was the guy I spent most of my time with."
She blinked, surprised by the simplicity of it. "…That doesn't sound like the Roy I've heard about. Everyone says he's… different. Distant."
Kieran's eyes widened. "Someone's been snooping around me."
Keiran shrugged. "He is. But he's also sharp. Funny, in his own twisted way. You learn pretty quickly that underneath all the sarcasm, there's someone worth sticking around."
Aarti studied him carefully, sensing there was more he wasn't saying. But she didn't push. Instead, she sipped her juice and said quietly, "You've changed, Kieran. The boy I remember would've kept his distance. But you… you stayed."
He looked down at his beer, swirling it absently before muttering, "Yeah. I stayed."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, just heavy, filled with the unspoken things neither of them was ready to lay bare.
For the first time in years, they were brother and sister again, sharing food, laughter, and memories, true and false alike, at the same table. And for Keiran, it was enough. For now.