Mahi sat on the edge of the sofa, her fingers twisting the end of her sari again and again, as though the fabric might unravel the truth if she pulled hard enough.
"She asked for silence,"
Fahim exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
"That wasn't a request, Ma. "
Fahan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed tightly, "You don't speak about things that can destroy you. Not if you've learned what happens when you do."
Fahad couldn't sit.
He had been pacing since they returned—back and forth, back and forth," If we break that silence… we will lose her."
"What do you mean?"Farhan lifted his eyes slowly.
"You saw her," he said.
" Every time someone gets too close—she pulls away. Not out of anger… but instinct."
A pause.
"She survives by control. If we take that away…"
He shook his head slightly, "She'll just disappear."
The twins sat together, unusually quiet.
Faha leaned closer to Fahish, his voice barely above a whisper, "It's like… the house is holding its breath."
—
Mahi suddenly stood, "I can't do this."
All eyes turned to her.
"I can't just sit here and pretend everything is fine," she said, " Like—"
"—like someone who wants to keep her alive."
Mahim's voice cut through.
Mahi froze.
"She didn't ask us to forget," he said slowly. "She asked us to act like we forgot."
Fahan frowned.
"She knows we saw. She knows we heard that we shouldn't hear"
Silence tightened.
"And yet," he continued, "she chose not to erase us from this world."
Fahim's eyes sharpened slightly, "…You're saying this is trust?"
Rahi's gaze hardened, "I'm saying this is the closest thing to trust she knows how to give."
' Goests ' had been there all along, leaning against the shadowed wall, arms loosely crossed, eyes half-lidded but aware of everything.
"Silence is safer than words." Veyra said slowly.
Faha answered without hesitation, "So, we do exactly what she asked. No one speaks. No one asks about this night . "
Mahi turned to the servants , "Don't let anything about tonight get out."
"Ok,Miss . As you command . "
"If anyone don't follow my words, be prepared to suffer the consequences."
—
Raya had always been laughter in motion.
Too young to understand consequence, too bright to fear it.
She had been playing—running through the corridors with careless joy, her tiny footsteps echoing where silence usually ruled.
A glass had slipped from her hand.
It shattered.
The sound rang sharp—but brief.
Raya froze for a moment… then giggled.
Servants rushed forward, voices alarmed—
"Miss raya , be careful—!"
But the child only laughed nervously, more curious than afraid.
A servant hurried over, concerned, kneeling to clean the broken pieces.
But Raya, quick and playful, scooped up a few glittering shards before they could be taken away.
"Shh…" she whispered, eyes sparkling.
"For fun."
She placed them on the edge of a low table—small, scattered pieces of glass catching the light like harmless crystals.
Then she ran off again.And then, it was forgotten.
Time moved on. As it always does.
❄️
The living room was still as a sealed crypt.
The heavy curtains shut out most of the sun; only a thin blade of light managed to slip in, falling across the marble floor like a crack in a tomb.
The smell of polish, old wood, and faint incense hung in the air — a perfume of ghosts.
Everyone moved carefully, their footsteps hushed, their glances fleeting.
The family had heard Rahi's command the night before: No one speaks. No one asks. Protect her silence.
So they obeyed.
Her mother, twisting the edge of her sari between her fingers.
Even Anik—the sharp and proud , found his words thinning, his throat tightening when she was near.
Maya sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands resting on her knees, her back straight. She was not waiting .
She was simply there, like a shadow caught in daylight.
Rahi came with a cup of warm milk, its steam curling in the pale light.
The warmth bled from the cup, cooling against his palms.
He stopped a few steps away from her.
"Take it.".
From the wall, the 'Ghosts' remained still.
Seven shadows carved into silence.
Arms folded. Shoulders relaxed—but their eyes… sharp.
Always watching.
Kaelen's gaze flickered between the cup and Maya's hand.
"She's still unstable," he murmured.
Eryth, leaning lazily against the pillar, let out a soft breath, a half-smile ghosting his lips,
"Strange," he muttered.
"A battlefield full of monsters… and the most dangerous thing here is a cup of milk."
Drenic didn't respond at first.
"Because it requires trust," he said finally.
"And trust is harder than any fight."
Then —
She reached out.Took the cup from him. She looked down at the cup.
Steam brushed against her face.She lifted it.
Then took a small sips.
Veyra's head tilted slightly, her sharp eyes tracing every detail.
Tharos's fingers tapped once against his arm—then stilled.
Neryth exhaled faintly, something like amusement gone quiet for once.
Even Nahir—usually fluid, restless stood still as water .
_______
Her attention lingered elsewhere .In her hand the cup of warm milk.
The last traces of steam had begun to fade, curling weakly before dissolving into the still air.
Her hand moved to place the cup down.
But her gaze did not follow her hand.
But her fingers brushed the rim of the shards.
It slipped.
She reacted instantly.Faster than thought.
Her hand shot down—
and caught them mid-fall.
All of them.
Fahad stepped forward instinctively—
"Watch out—!"
He moved forward—
but stopped short, seeing her grip tighten reflexively, as if letting go was not an option she recognized.
A thin, clean line opened across her palm.
Then deeper—
far deeper than it should have.
She did not pull back her hand. The bead of blood blossoming on her skin where the jagged edge had sliced her palm.
At first, no one moved. The others froze, as if the sound had struck them instead. Then — chaos.
"Maya!" she gasped.
Fahim moved instantly, "Don't move your hand—"
Fahis darted forward, his face pale. "You're bleeding!"
Ohi cried out, "Get something — a cloth, a bandage—"
Her eyes dropped to the crimson trail winding down her wrist, and she simply watched it .
The panic swelled. Voices overlapped, footsteps hurried across the marble.
fetched a towel; someone else reached for the first-aid box.
Rahi's voice cut in, "Stop."
Everyone froze.
"Maya," he said quietly,
"release the glass.
Let go,You're bleeding."
A pause.
Her fingers were still slightly curled—
as if holding onto something that was no longer there.
Then—they loosened.
The remaining shard slipped from her grasp,
'Clink. Clink.'
The shards fell gently onto the floor.
"You didn't have to catch it." His voice lower now .
Maya looked at him for a brief moment.
"But … It was falling," she said simply.
Fahad stared at her, disbelief breaking through,
"That's all you say?! You're bleeding—!"
Behind them—
Raya appeared at the edge of the room.
Still holding the echo of her earlier laughter.
But the moment she saw—her face changed.
Confusion first.Then realization.
Then fear.
Her voice broke,
"Did I—?" she whispered. "I didn't mean—"
Mahi stepped forward immediately,
"It's okay," she said quickly.
"Go upstairs, sweetheart."
But Raya didn't move.She kept staring at the blood.
—
The room shifted instantly.
Fahim stepped forward first, alarm sharpening his voice.
"Wait—Maya, don't—your hand is bleeding
so much !"
Mahi followed, panic breaking through restraint.
"Child, let us clean it for you—!"
Fahad's voice came sharper, almost desperate.
"Why are you walking like that? Sit down!"
She turned the tap on without hesitation.
The sound of flowing water filled the space like a quiet verdict.
Nahi moved closer, slower now.
"Let me—" he started.But stopped.
Because she had already placed her hand under the water.
Maya turned the water off.Shook her hand once.
Then reached into her notebook .
The Ghosts, standing near the wall, shifted their attention.
Kaelen's voice was low.
"…She still carries medical thread?"
Veyra frowned slightly, "In her notebook?"
Maya opened it.From the corner binding of the notebook—
She pulled out a thin sterile thread.
Then a needle.
Already prepared.
Fahad's voice broke first.
"What is she doing now?"
Fahim stepped forward immediately.
"No—Maya, stop. That's not how you treat a wound properly—"
But she didn't look at him.
—
Rahi's voice dropped, quieter now.
"…She knows what she's doing."
"What are you doing?" Mahi whispered.
Raya peeked from behind Mahi,
"…Aunty… is she going to sew her hand?"
Mahi quickly pulled her back.
"Don't look."
She held her palm close, bent over it and began to stitch the wound herself — small, tight sutures.
The cut was shallow in some places.
Deeper in others.
Others stared, horrified.
Fahim stepped closer again, voice firmer now.
"Maya, listen to me. You need proper treatment. Infection risk is—"
"I know," she said.
Fahad's voice cracked, anger mixing with helplessness,
"How can you just—do that to yourself ?"
"I've done worse," she said simply.
Fahis stepped forward, his voice breaking. "Why are you doing this yourself? Let us help you! "
Maya's eyes flicked up for an instant,
"If I don't do it , then who will?"
The words fell like stones into the silence.
Mahi's hands trembled where she stood. "Maya… how many times have you done this to yourself?"
Drenic, still leaning against the wall, lifted his gaze to her.
His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made everyone turn.
"Thousands of times."
Ohi spun to him, eyes wide. " Why would you say that?"
Drenic's face was calm, almost detached. "Because when she did it before. When no one else was looking, I saw her do it.
Again and again."
" You don't have to do this ."
Maya tied off a stitch, her fingers slick with her own blood. She did not look at them as she spoke,
"When I was younger,
there was no one to tend my wounds.
No one to clean them, no one to close them.
Even when the cuts were deep, I had to do it myself. There was no other choice.
So, I become used to it. "
Behind her, Mahi 's tears swelled in her eyes and began to fall,
"But you're not alone now," she whispered.
Maya paused for a heartbeat, the needle poised over her palm.
"Because it keeps me alive."
The words stopped everyone.
"What do you mean?"
Maya drew the needle through her skin, pulled the thread tight,
"It reminds me I'm still here. That I still exist. That I can still feel… even if it's only pain."
Faha turned away, his hand pressed over his mouth.
Farhan sat down heavily in a chair, his head bowed.
Ohi backed up a step, tears brimming in his eyes.
She tied off the last stitch and bit the thread free. Pressing a scrap of cloth over the wound.
Rahi spoke, his voice lower, almost a whisper.
❝She used to do this even when she was a child.
I watched her sew herself up. I didn't tell anyone.
I thought… I thought if I stayed quiet, it would stop. But it never stopped.
So, I've gotten used to seeing this. ❞
Mahi turned to him, her eyes wild. "Why didn't
you tell me?"
Rahi's jaw tightened. "Because you wouldn't have listened ."
Maya rose from the sofa, her movements slow but steady .
Fahim reacted first.
"Maya—wait, you shouldn't be walking around like this—"
Mahi stepped forward immediately, voice trembling.
"At least let us—let us walk with you…"
Maya stopped for a fraction of a second.
Then— softly, without looking back:
"I'm fine."
Her reflection in the glass stared back — pale, unblinking, with a thin seam of thread crossing her palm like a black scar.
Fahis whispered, "She's slipping away."
But Rahi shook his head slowly. "No. She's holding on. Just… not the way you think."
Shd goes to her room and drew her notebook .
She opened it with her good hand, turned to a blank page, and began to write.
Her pen scratched across the paper, each word deliberate, heavy:
❝ I mend myself because no one else will.
I stitch myself because no one else knows how.
I feel pain because it is the only thing that tells
me I am still here.
but why did i trust you arab.?? ❞
She paused .
❝ Why did you leave me? ❞
She closed the notebook and turned at last to face them.
In the living room, Mahi sat on sofa , tears sliding down her face.
Rahi stood over her, his eyes fixed on the place where Maya had vanished.
Ohi leaned against the wall, trembling.
Upstairs, in the dim light of her room, Maya sat on the floor with her back against the wall.
She opened her notebook again, turned to a fresh page, and drew — a face.
She closed the notebook, laid it beside her, and pressed her stitched palm to her note book .