It's the middle of the night, and he still hasn't slept.
The desk lamp on his table casts a dull yellow circle over scattered papers, interview guidelines, handwritten notes, and old case summaries that he has printed and reprinted until the edges of the pages have softened.
Preparation for the investigator recruitment exam gradually replaced his sleep, not due to anxiety, but rather out of habit.
If he kept his mind busy long enough, the night typically passed without struggle.
The house was very peaceful.
It's not peaceful; it's just silence in name.
This type of silence followed certainty, when everyone believed the day was over and nothing else would disrupt their peace.
He was reading the same pages for the third time when the silence was interrupted.
Initially, it was just a sound, sharp and uneven, like someone hastily dragging air into their lungs. His mind took a moment to register it.
Then the noise broke again, louder this time and unmistakable.
A scream.
He pushed his chair back and stood up so abruptly that it scraped against the floor.
His heartbeat surged before his thoughts aligned. The whole house lit up immediately.
Almost immediately, another voice followed the scream, low, urgent, and controlled.
His father.
The corridor light turned on. Doors opened quickly with a 'khatas' sound, not all at once but close enough to feel instinctive.
Himani, his eldest sister, stepped out of her room with her hair down and her eyes already alert.
Hiya, his youngest sister followed a second later, blinking away sleep, her phone clutched loosely in one hand.
His grandmother's door opened last.
She didn't hurry because she was old enough to take her time.
She stepped into the corridor and walked toward his parents' room, as if she knew where the night had gone wrong.
Inside the room, Mother sat upright on the bed, her breathing uneven and her fingers tightly clenched in the blanket.
Father was beside her, one hand pressed firmly against her back while the other gripped the mattress. His composure, honed over years of routine, remained intact but seemed strained.
"What happened?" he asked again, this time more softly. Mother shook her head once, then again.
"Something is wrong, Venkat is in danger," she said.
It's not something specific.
There seems to be something wrong with Venkat.
Himani quickly moved to her mother's side. "Ma, it was just a bad dream. Try to breathe deeply."
"I wasn't asleep," Mother replied.
The calmness in her voice disturbed him more than if she had been panicking.
Grandmother stepped closer, her eyes sharp even at this late hour. "What did you see?"
Mother paused for a moment before quietly saying the name.
"Venkat."
The room grew silent, not abruptly, but gradually and with intention.
They had learned, over the past few days, to live with that name because Venkat is the eldest child of this house.
Not completely avoiding it, but never pushing too hard either. As if saying it too loudly might give weight to a concern no one wanted to shape.
"Mother continued, 'He didn't call today, not even once."
"He said he would be busy," Himani replied gently. "Vishak told you yesterday afternoon that he couldn't come." Vishak is the second-oldest child in this house and his second-oldest brother.
"Yes," Mother said. "It was yesterday."
Her fingers gripped the bedsheet tightly.
"However, tonight was different."
Hiya shifted uncomfortably. "Mom, you're overthinking this." Nothing bad happened to Eldest Brother."
Mother didn't look at her and said, "Call Vishak."
Since Venkat did not answer any calls for several months, Vishak responded to every call instead.
Hiya tried to say it was midnight, but looking at mother's face, no one argued.
Himani dialed. The call connected almost immediately, but everyone wondered without wondering.
Vishak's face appeared on the screen, dimly lit, with a deliberately indistinct background, walls, shadows, nothing to anchor the space to life. He looked tired yet composed.
"Ma," he said softly, "why are you awake at midnight?" "You said everything was okay," Mother replied.
"Yes, it is. But what happened?" Vishak asked without hesitation.
"Where is Venkat?" Mother asked in response.
"Venkat is very busy with his work," Vishak replied confidently.
"What do you mean, even at night?" she asked.
"Work," Vishak replied.
"What kind of work at midnight keeps him busy?" Mother asked again.
"You know how it is," Vishak replied calmly, as if nothing had happened.
He observed his second brother's expression rather than focusing on his words.
Vishak's expression remained unchanged. His eyes stayed focused, showing no signs of distraction. He was clearly in control.
"Then why didn't he call?" Mother insisted.
"He couldn't do it," Vishak said smoothly. "There are deadlines, meetings, signal problems, and so on. Don't worry."
Grandmother stayed quiet, as she always did during explanations.
"Where are you?" Mother asked.
"At my room," Vishak replied.
"Show me."
There was a pause. Brief. Measured.
The camera shifted, showing the ceiling and part of a wall, nothing personal.
"See?" Vishak said. "Everything is fine."
Mother didn't relax.
"I don't like this," she whispered.
"Ma," Vishak said gently, "please trust me."
The call ended soon after the conversation. Reassurances followed, spoken softly and carefully layered over a sense of unease.
Father talked about feeling exhausted and stressed.
Himani insisted that the morning would feel different. Hiya yawned, already drifting back to sleep.
Gradually, the room began to empty.
He stood by the doorway, hesitating.
Mother lay back down, her eyes still open, staring at the ceiling as if sleep had already decided not to return. "Bhramak," she said quietly.
He took a step closer and replied, "Yes, Ma?"
"You noticed it as well," she said.
It was not a question.
"I also noticed that something has changed," Bhramak replied.
She nodded once and said, "Be careful, all of you."
After a brief conversation, he returned to his room, but sleep still eluded him.
Bhramak sat at his desk, surrounded by familiar clutter, exam forms, interview notes, and reminders of a future built on procedures and logic.
He replayed Vishak's words in his mind.
Extremely busy.
"What do you mean by busy?" That alone wasn't strange.
Contractors often disappeared into work.
Engineers, particularly those involved in the type of work that Vishak handled, rarely remained silent for days at a time.
Venkat is a Construction Materials Contractor, and Vishak is a Civil Engineer, as his family knows.
If the silence was due to work, it was directed at the wrong person.
The thought lingered quietly, yet it felt uncomfortable.
Later, when the house was quiet again, with doors closed and lights dimmed, Mother called him to her room.
She sat at the edge of the bed, calmer than before, but the unease still lingered in her eyes. Father stood by the window, arms folded, listening without interruption.
"This situation can't continue," Mother said softly. "Someone needs to take responsibility."
Bhramak didn't answer immediately, nor did he hesitate.
She looked at him then. "You are no longer a child," she added. "You know what silence means."
"I do," he said.
Father exhaled slowly. "We can wait a few days. Vishak mentioned..."
"I understand what Vishak said," Bhramak replied calmly. "That's why I'm concerned."
Mother's fingers tightened together as she asked, "Then what will you do?"
"My interview office is located in the same city as my brothers," Bhramak said. "I was planning to go next week anyway."
Father turned to us and said, "You didn't mention that."
"I didn't think it was important until now," Bhramak replied.
Mother examined his face closely. "So, you're going to go?"
"Yes," he replied. "Tomorrow morning."
The word "tomorrow" hung heavily in the air.
"And don't tell Vishak that I'm coming to the city tomorrow," Bhramak added. "Not yet. I don't want him to change anything because if he knows I'm there."
Mother nodded slowly and did not argue. This, more than anything, confirmed his decision.
"I will be careful," Bhramak said.
She reached out and held his wrist, not tightly, but firmly enough to remind him that he was still hers, no matter how old he had become.
"Please come back," she said.
"I will," he said.
Back in his room, Bhramak packed without a list. He gathered clothes, documents, and a charger, everything he needed to appear ordinary, prepared, and normal.
He intended to leave in a week.
Tonight, I decided to abandon that plan.
Outside, the sky was still dark, but morning no longer felt far away.
The location where Venkat went had fallen silent as well.
Tomorrow, he would go searching.
If he were mistaken, he would return quietly.
If he weren't...
Bhramak halted his thoughts at that point.
The house was once again in a deep sleep.
This time, the silence felt purposeful.