Breakfast ended.
No one stood.
That alone was strange.
Plates had been cleared, cups emptied, napkins folded yet the family remained seated, as if bound by an invisible rule no one dared to break.
Because Rudra Malhotra was still there.
He sat at the table, fingers resting loosely against the edge of his phone, posture just a fraction less rigid than before. Not relaxed. Never relaxed. But… awkward. As if leaving first would expose something he hadn't decided how to carry yet.
The maids hovered at a distance, unsure whether to proceed with clearing the room entirely. Their mother noticed and gave a small nod. They retreated quietly.
Silence returned.
Then....
A vibration.
Soft. Brief.
Rudra's phone lit up.
Everyone saw it.
No one breathed.
Rudra glanced down.
And for the first time that morning, something happened.
Not dramatic. Not obvious.
But unmistakable.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Just a little.
Not a smile.
A near-smirk.
Riyan's eyes widened.
Their mother's fingers tightened around her teacup.
Their father lowered his gaze from the table—slowly.
Rudra stood up immediately, as if realizing he'd stayed too long.
"Excuse me," he said, voice controlled again, already moving. "I need to take this."
And then he left the dining room.
Just… walked out.
The silence he left behind was louder than anything before it.
Riyan blinked once.
Twice.
"…Did you see that?" he whispered urgently.
Their mother spoke at the same time, voice soft but firm. "Riyan. Don't."
Even their father added quietly, without looking up, "Let him be." as he told Riyan to stop bothering his older brother.
Riyan was already halfway out of his chair.
"Absolutely not," he murmured. "That was a smirk."
He slipped out of the dining room like a criminal avoiding capture.
The garden was bright with morning sun, green hedges trimmed to perfection, stone pathways gleaming faintly with dew. Rudra stood near the far side, partially turned away, one hand in his pocket, phone pressed to his ear.
His voice was low.
Different.
Riyan ducked behind a pillar, holding his breath.
"…Yes," Rudra said quietly.
A pause.
"No, I'm outside."
Another pause.
Then...
"I ate. Stop worrying."
Riyan's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Stop worrying?
Who was worrying about him?!
Rudra shifted his weight, gaze fixed on a rose bush as if it required his full attention.
"…I'll be there tonight," he said, tone softer now. "I promised."
A small exhale followed.
Something that almost sounded like a laugh.
Riyan clapped a hand over his own mouth.
Minutes passed.
One.
Two.
Three.
Rudra didn't hang up.
He didn't look irritated.
He didn't pace.
He stood there, listening.
Responding.
Occasionally murmuring things Riyan couldn't fully head but the way he said them made Riyan's chest buzz with adrenaline.
"…No," Rudra said after a moment. "I don't mind."
Another pause.
"…Yes. I'll call when I leave."
Five minutes.
Five full, uninterrupted minutes.
Riyan backed away slowly, as if retreating from a wild animal.
Then-
He turned.
And ran.
Actually ran!
"OH MY GOD."
RUNNNN!!
Riyan burst back into the house, skidding slightly on the marble floor. "MUM. DAD. WE HAVE A SITUATION."
Their mother gasped. "Riyan! What...."
"He's been on the phone for five minutes."
Their father froze.
"…Five?"
"With the same person."
Silence.
Then movement.
Their mother stood first.
Their father followed, expression unreadable but alert.
Three seconds later, the entire family plus two maids who had absolutely no business being there were in the garden.
Standing.
Crouching.
Hiding behind a thick stone pillar like a group of terribly dressed spies.
Because....
Oh.
Oh no.
Rudra was still talking.
"…I know," his voice floated across the garden. Calm. Low. Almost gentle. "That's why I said I'd handle it."
A pause.
"…Don't apologize."
Another.
"…You didn't do anything wrong."
Riyan pressed a fist to his mouth to keep from screaming.
Their mother stared.
Their father narrowed his eyes.
Rudra turned slightly, sunlight catching his face and there it was again.
That softness.
That barely-there smile that should not exist on Rudra Malhotra before noon.
"Alright," Rudra said quietly. "I'll see you later."
A final pause.
"…Take care."
The call ended.
Rudra lowered the phone.
And behind the pillar, four people and two extremely nosy staff members collectively forgot how to function.
Riyan whispered, vibrating with excitement,
"WHO—IS—THAT."
Their mother whispered back, stunned,
"…He sounded happy."
Their father said nothing.
But his eyes never left his eldest son.
Rudra stood alone in the garden for a moment longer, phone still in his hand, expression carefully neutralizing layer by layer before he turned back toward the house.
He had no idea.
None at all.
That an entire investigation had just begun.
To be continued