Naya, who had been quietly watching the two of them, couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Those two absolutely ridiculous idiots! Honestly, I have no idea how they manage to survive with those brains of theirs!"
Shaking her head, she picked up her book and reopened it to the exact page where she had left off.
"Give them five minutes without supervision and I am fairly certain they could turn an otherwise peaceful morning into a national emergency."
---
Fahish walked fast, he reached the front doors before Maya had even crossed the threshold.
The morning air hit him—cool, carrying the faint sweetness of the rose garden, a black car waited at the bottom of the marble steps.
Fahish did not wait for him. He pulled the driver's door open himself, slid inside and shut it with a soft click.
For a moment, he just sat there, both hands on the wheel, his eyes fixed on nothing. What did I just do? Why did I just run?
He closed his eyes just for a second, then reached for the ignition and—Stopped.
She's coming. Isn't she?? The thought hit him like a physical blow. She's going to sit in this car beside me for twenty minutes.
What do I say? What do I do? Do I apologize or do I pretend it didn't happen?
His fingers tightened around the wheel. I can't do this. He was already reaching for the door handle when he heard footsteps— approaching the car.
His hand froze. Through the window, he saw her. Small. The navy-and-silver tie perfectly knotted, the school crest gleaming on her pocket.
She stopped beside the car, her dark eyes found his through the glass. For one heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Fahish did something he didn't fully understand.
He killed the engine, pushed his door open and stepped out of the car. The driver blinked. "Sir?"
Fahish didn't answer, he walked around the front of the car —his strides long, his eyes fixed on the ground and stopped beside the rear passenger door. He pulled it open.
Then he stepped back and stood there, one hand still resting on the edge of the door, waiting. Maya looked at him. She looked at the open door. Then at his face. Then at the door again.
There was no surprise in her expression. No gratitude. Just that same quiet, cataloguing stillness, "Thank you, Mr. Fahish."
Fahish nodded once, he didn't trust his voice.
Maya stepped past him and slid into the seat,she placed her schoolbag neatly on her lap. Fahish closed the door, carefully.
The car pulled away from the mansion, down the long white-stone driveway and out through the wrought-iron gates.
The city unfolded slowly. Fahish kept both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road. He did not look at the rearview mirror.
She's watching me, he thought. She's always watching. She probably heard everything. His grip on the wheel tightened.
She was standing right there, she heard me say I have no sister. She heard all of it. And she didn't react. Not once. Why didn't she react?
The question gnawed at him.
If someone said something like that about me — if someone denied me in front of my whole family, I would be angry. I would say something. I would—He stopped the thought.
But she didn't. She just…watched.
A pause.
Why was she like this? Did nothing ever get to her or did words simply lose their meaning the moment they reached her ears?
How could someone stand there, listening to every cruel remark,every cutting word thrown in her direction and remain so unnervingly still?
Not a flicker of anger crossed her face. Not a hint of hurt surfaced in her eyes. Was she truly that indifferent?
Did she have no pride, no self-respect, nothing inside her that could be wounded by the sheer cruelty of other people's words?
An unsettling thought crept into his mind.
Perhaps she felt everything but refused to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they had reached her.
His gaze remained fixed on Maya. Or.....perhaps she had endured so much that ordinary insults no longer seemed worth acknowledging.
For reasons he couldn't even explain,the thought made him uneasy. The silence between them grew heavier with every mile.
Fahish's fingers tapped once against the wheel. Then stopped, then tapped again.
Say something, anything. Anything is better than this. But every sentence he could think of died before it reached his lips.
' I'm sorry.' — Too simple and easy. ' I didn't mean it. ' — A lie because I had meant it. At the time, I had meant every word.
' Why don't you say something?'— Ridiculous. Ihad no right to ask her anything.
He cleared his throat. "...So."
Maya's eyes lifted from the window. "Yes, Mr. Fahish?"
Fahish wet his lips. "St. Helena's, that's — that's a good school."
"Yes."
"The entrance exam is...difficult."
"Yes."
"The third hardest in the empire, I've heard."
"Yes, Mr. Fahish."
"Do you enjoy it?"
There was a brief pause. Then: "Yes, Mr. Fahish."
Fahish opened his mouth. Closed it. She's not going to give me anything. Not a single — thing. She's just going to sit there and let me drown in my own words.
His hands were sweating on the wheel. He wiped them on his trousers, one at a time, hoping she wouldn't notice.
"So…you know mother is a donor at St. Helena's, right?"
He paused briefly, watching for a reaction before continuing. "I mean, she is been associated with the institution for quite some time, so I assume her name must have come up at some point."
"Mrs. Sunayana? Yes, I'm quite familiar with her name, Mr. Fahish. She is one of the donors at St. Helena's and her association with the institution is hardly something I would be unaware of.
As far as I know, her contributions have played a significant role in supporting the institution and its various initiatives over the years.
A woman of her influence and reputation is not exactly someone whose name goes unnoticed.
That's precisely why I know she's involved with St.Helena's and the recognition she has received for her contributions."
Oh, he's trying. So, the man who said he had no sister is driving you. He opened the door for you.
He mentioned his mother's donations, hoping that it would help ease the situation.
He felt guilty, didn't he? So unbearably guilty that even drawing a breath seemed to take an effort.
As though the weight of his own conscience had settled heavily upon his chest,how amusing, how utterly, deliciously amusing.
She almost wanted to laugh at the sight of him. Oh, oh…I loved guilty people. People who knew they had done something wrong.
People who carried their guilt like an invisible wound, desperately hoping no one would notice, while every little reaction betrayed them.
And the best part? I didn't even have to accuse him of anything. His conscience was doing all the work for me.
Fahish slowed the car but his eyes kept flicking without meaning to — toward the rearview mirror.
She was watching the window for fifteen minutes as though the city outside was the only thing in the world worth looking at.
Say something. You idiot. You have two minutes. Maybe less and then she gets out of this car and walks into that school and you go back to the mansion and everyone will look at you like —
He stopped the thought. He didn't want to think about the mansion. He didn't want to think about his mother's eyes.
The thought pressed against his chest, he cleared his throat.
"..Seven days ago, mother came to your school. She donated a lot to the school, I mean. To St. Helena's. I was just, I was just wondering..."
His voice faltered. Say it. Just say it.
"...Did you happen to see her? When she came? Did you — did you see her there?"
Slowly, Maya turned her head. "Mrs. Sunayana?"
"Yes. Did you see her? When she visited?"
"She came to the exhibition hall ..... I remember seeing her walk in, though I wasn't expecting her to be there at that particular time."
Mother was there right there and she didn't know. She didn't know her daughter was standing five feet away. And what did i do?
I told my own mother that her son refuses to acknowledge his own daughter as his sister.
My own mother.
How could I say something like that to her? How could I look her in the eye and tell her that her son— doesn't even consider his own sister worthy of that relationship?
When did I become such a terrible person? I could have kept my mouth shut. I could have chosen my words carefully.
But no. I had to say it like that. And now, what am I supposed to do? Oh, God. What have I done?
"Little...little sister." The words came out cracked, he hadn't meant to say them. His cheeks flushed.
What are you doing? What are you saying? You told that you had no sister in front of everyone. And now—
His hands trembled on the wheel. He didn't dare look at her. He didn't dare look in the mirror.
"I just—" He stopped so abruptly that his jaw tightened.
"I just thought...You might have seen her. That's all. That's all I—"
The car turned off the main road and the outline of St. Helena's came into view in the distance.
The old stone buildings rose against the morning sky — pale gray and honey-colored in the early light, their high windows catching the sun. The the courtyard was already alive with students.
The gates were still two hundred meters away, close enough to see the crest.
"Please stop here." Maya's voice was quiet.
Fahish's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "We haven't reached the gate yet."
"I know. Mr. Fahish."
He slowed the car anyway. His brow furrowed — just slightly. "Is something wrong?"
Maya's gaze stayed on the school ahead — on the students filing through the gates. "I'd like to walk the rest of the way."
"...Why, little sister?"
"I don't want anyone at school to see me getting out of such an expensive car. It would attract unnecessary attention."
Fahish understood immediately. Of course, of course she doesn't want to be seen because at this school — she just Maya and she wants to keep it that way.
He simply guided the car to the side of the road and brought it to a smooth stop. "Very well."
Maya unfastened her seat belt. She picked up her schoolbag and reached for the door handle and paused. "Thank you for bringing me here."
Fahish gave a slight nod. "Have a good day."
"Okay. Mr. Fahish."
She opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. The morning air caught her hair, lifting a few loose strands across her face,she adjusted her glasses and walked toward the school.
Fahish did not drive away, he sat there and watched her.
She walked along the edge of the road, students passed her and she moved among them like a shadow, unnoticed.
Some students laughed with friends, their voices rising and falling in easy rhythms. Others hurried toward their classrooms while discussing there unfinished homework.
A few students glanced at her in passing. Some vaguely recognized her face.
"...Isn't she from Class Eleven?"
"I think so."
"I've seen her before..." Their curiosity faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Maya had always been like that—a face at the edge of memory.
As she stepped into the academic building, a teacher noticed her from the corridor, a smile crossed his face. "Good morning, Maya."
She inclined her head politely. "...Good morning, Sir."
Another teacher walking past paused in pleasant surprise. "Maya? It's good to see you back."
"...Thank you, Ma'am."
She continued toward her classroom. One hand rested lightly on the strap of her schoolbag. In the other, she held an open book. The book Fahish had given her.
Her calm black eyes moved steadily from one line to the next. Students rushed past her in both directions, laughter echoed from classrooms.
She reached her classroom and stepped inside.
The room was already half full. Students sat in loose clusters — some perched on the edges of tables, some gathered near the windows.
The morning light fell through the tall windows in long golden panels, catching the dust motes that drifted lazily through the air.
Maya crossed the room without a sound. She chose her usual seat — the far corner, by the window, where the light fell behind her and no one could see her face.
She set her bag down, placed the book on the desk, folded her hands and waited for the first bell.
A few students glanced at her. Then looked away.
One of them noticed the book.
It was a girl named Tisha who saw it first — a sharp-eyed girl with a designer hairclip.
She was sitting three rows away, half-listening to a conversation she wasn't part of, when her gaze drifted across the room and landed on Maya's desk.
Mystery of the Void.
Tisha's eyes narrowed. "...Wait." She nudged the girl beside her. "Rumi. Look."
Rumi glanced over. "What?"
"That book. On her desk."
Rumi squinted. "...So? It's a book."
"No. Look at the cover."
Rumi looked again, her expression shifted. "...No way. It is, that's the one. The limited edition. The black matte cover with the silver lettering."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. My cousin has a copy. He paid, I don't even want to say how much. It completely sold out. They only printed five hundred."
Tisha leaned forward, her voice dropping. "And she has one."
Rumi stared at Maya. "That book came out three months ago, I tried to get one, I couldn't. It was gone in a day."
By the time the first bell rang, half the class had noticed. A boy near the front — Arif, who never read anything longer than a text message,leaned toward his friend. "What's everyone looking at?"
"That quiet girl, she has some book."
"So?"
"It's expensive. Like — really expensive."
Arif glanced back. "It's just a book."
"That's what I said."
The whispers grew. "...Where did she get that?"
"Maybe she stole it."
"Don't be stupid,you can't steal a limited edition."
"Then how does she have one?"
"Maybe she's rich."
"She doesn't look rich. She wears the same two shirts every week."
"Maybe she borrowed it."
"From who? Nobody in this school has a copy."
The murmurs circled the room like smoke.
Mmmmm...
Yama's voice was thick — drowsy, the voice of someone pulled out of a deep sleep against their will.
What's all that noise? It's too early for whispering. It's too early for anything. I was sleeping. Do you know how hard it is to fall asleep in this head? It's like trying to nap in a hurricane.
Yama's voice sharpened. Her presence leaned closer, curious now, the drowsiness slipping away.
Oh. Oh, I see. They're looking at the book, the book he gave you. Oh, I like this. I like this very much.
Maya turned another page. "I'm reading."
You're not. You're waiting. You're waiting to see what they'll do. Yama sighed — long, dramatic, deeply put-upon.
Fine. Fine. Be boring but don't blame me when this gets interesting. She paused. Actually — do blame me. I want credit.
Maya closed her eyes for exactly one second.
"...Go back to sleep."
I can't now. You woke me up with all your reading and your page-turning and your — she gestured vaguely — presence.
"You don't have a presence."
I have a tremendous presence. I'm the most present person you know.
"You're not a person."
That's hurtful.
Maya turned another page. The second bell rang.
The teacher hadn't arrived yet. The classroom buzzed with the low hum of conversation.
Priya stood up and walked toward Maya's desk.
Maya did not look up. She was still reading — or appearing to read.
Priya stopped at the edge of her desk. "...Hey."
Maya turned a page. "...Yes?"
"That book. Where did you get it?"
"It was a gift."
"A gift?" Priya's tone sharpened. "From who?"
"From someone."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer I have. Miss Priya."
The classroom had gone quiet,the other students were watching now. some — openly and some pretending not to.
Priya's voice dropped. "You think you're better than everyone, don't you?"
Maya did not look up.
"You sit here every day with your books and your silence and you never talk to anyone and you act like you're above all of us."
Maya said nothing. "You're not. You're nobody."
Maya turned a page. Priya's face flushed. "Are you even listening to me?"
"...Yes. Miss Priya."
"Then say something."
Maya looked up. "What would you like me to say?" Priya opened her mouth. Closed it.
Maya waited. Then she looked back down at her book and turned a page.
Priya stood there, her hands were trembling — with anger, with embarrassment, with something she couldn't name.
The whole class was watching. Priya turned and walked back to her seat, she sat down heavily,her friends leaned in but she waved them off.
And in the back of Maya's mind, in the endless garden of spider lilies, Yama was laughing.
Ohhhh. Oh, that was beautiful. I love it, I love it so much. She's going to hate you now, you know. She's going to watch you. And when she does —
"Yama. Please, sleep."
Oh, come on—
"Sleep."
You can't just—
"Sleep."
Yama groaned—theatrical, deeply offended.
You're impossible, you know that? You're the most impossible person I've ever met. And I've met a lot of people in your head. Which is your fault too.
"Noted."
I'm going to remember this.
"I know."
I'm going to bring it up later when you least expect it.
"I know."
The garden stilled. The lilies swayed and Yama slowly began to fade.