A servant carrying a bowl stopped in the middle of a step. Another nearly dropped the teapot before catching it at the last moment.
Faha's smile disappeared. Fahan stared at Maya as if he had forgotten how to breathe.
Naya's elegant composure faltered. She set down her fork, her eyes fixed on Maya with a sharpness that hadn't been there before.
"P-Poison?"
"Yes."
Fahad's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Mahi's face became solemn.
Around the table, each member of the family wore the same expression—[HORROR]
Meanwhile, Maya lowered her gaze again. She picked up another bite of vegetables. "...The vegetables are good."
Mahim was the first to speak.He looked at Maya carefully as though afraid of startling her,"Maya."
She lifted her eyes, "...Yes?"
A faint crease appeared between Mahim's brows,"Do you... realize what you just said?"
Maya looked at him quietly, " I do."
Mahim searched her face for some sign of a joke, a misunderstanding— anything. He found none.
Silence settled over the dining hall once again.
The aroma of the fish dishes, so inviting only moments ago, now seemed oppressive.
No one reached for them.
Faha stared at the grilled fish on his plate as though he had never seen it before."...I don't think I can eat this anymore."
FahIsh slowly set down his fork. "...Neither can I."
Even Nahi, who usually joked about everything, remained unusually quiet."...This is the first time fish has made me uncomfortable."
A servant hesitated beside the table. "...Should I remove the fish, sir?"
Mahim looked around the room. He gave a quiet nod, "...Yes."
Two of the servants stepped forward, The first reached for the largest platter — a silver dish where the grilled fish, garnished with lemon slices and fresh herbs.
"Excuse me," he murmured, bowing his head slightly toward the table.
The second servant collected the smaller plates one by one. She paused beside Faha, her fingers hovering just above his plate.
"Shall I take yours as well, Master Faha?"
Faha nodded without looking up. "Yes. Please."
Farhan had barely touched his food, but he slid his plate forward as well. "Mine too. Please."
"Of course, Master Farhan."
The servants worked in quiet coordination, gathering every trace of fish from the table.
One carried the platters toward the kitchen, while another returned with a small silver basin to wipe away any lingering drops of sauce.
Maya's spoon paused mid-air. She looked slowly around the table—
At Faha, who had pushed his plate away, at — Fahish, whose fork lay untouched; at Nahi, who stared at the empty space where his fish had been.
"...Did I ruin breakfast?"
Naya set down her glass, "No, Maya. You didn't ruin breakfast."
Maya's gaze shifted to her. "Everyone stopped eating."
"That's not because of you," Naya said gently.
Maya looked at the empty space on the table where the fish dishes had been. ".....But it is. I said something and now no one wants to eat."
Maya was quiet for a moment. Then she lowered her eyes. "...I'm sorry."
Naya's expression softened. "Sorry? For what?"
"For making everyone uncomfortable."
Naya shook her head slowly. "You didn't make anyone uncomfortable."
Maya considered this. Then she nodded once. "...I see."
Naya reached for the bread basket and placed it gently beside Maya's plate. "Here. Try some. It's fresh."
"Okay, Miss Naya." Maya took a small piece and placed it on her plate.
Naya watched her for a moment, then smiled. "See? Breakfast isn't ruined."
Maya picked up the bread and took a small bite. She chewed slowly, her expression unchanged.
Naya returned to her own meal but her eyes lingered on Maya for a moment longer.
Across the table, Faha leaned toward Fahish and whispered, "She actually apologized."
"...I know."
"For making us uncomfortable. When she's the one who—" Faha stopped, unable to finish.
"...I know."
Fahad had been silent throughout the exchange. His gray eyes rested on Maya, unreadable.
Fahim alone continued eating as though nothing had happened. But his eyes, when they lifted, were sharper than before.
Nahi finally broke the silence. "Okay. This is weird."
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" He shrugged. "We're all sitting here acting like someone died. She just said she doesn't eat fish. It's not the end of the world."
Naya sighed. "Nahi—"
"No, listen." Nahi turned toward Maya, his expression unusually serious.
"Cousin. I don't know what happened to you. And honestly, I'm not going to pretend I understand it."
He picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of bread. "Now can we please eat? I'm starving."
Fahan shook his head. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm practical," Nahi corrected.
But the atmosphere had shifted—lighter now, though still heavy with unspoken questions.
A servant returned with a fresh glass of water and placed it carefully beside Maya's hand. "Miss Maya... if there is anything else you need—"
"No," Maya said quietly. "This is fine."
The servant bowed and stepped back.
Maya lowered her eyes, she picked up another spoonful of rice and vegetables.
Breakfast gradually came to an end. The lively chatter that had once filled the dining hall never truly returned.
Only the quiet clink of cutlery and the occasional murmur of servants broke the silence. One by one, the family finished their meal.
The clinking of cutlery faded, replaced by the soft murmur of chairs being pushed back and the rustle of clothing as family members rose from their seats.
No one mentioned fish again.
At the far end of the table, Maya finished the last spoonful of vegetables and carefully set her spoon beside the plate.
Mahim wiped his hands with a handkerchief, he folded the cloth neatly, placed it beside his plate, and rose.
"Maya."
She looked up from her plate. "Yes, Mr.Mahim. "
"Come to my reading room for a moment. I have something to discuss with you."
His voice was calm, yet beneath its composed surface, there was an edge that made several family members exchange glances.
"Understood, Mr. Mahim."
She raised from her seat as though she had expected this invitation all along.
As she walked past the table, Fahan leaned close to Faha, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper.
"Brother... I think Maya said something wrong. That's why Father is calling her."
"You think so?"
"Obviously! Why else would he call her to his reading room? That's where he has serious conversations."
Fahan's brow furrowed with concern, his usual playfulness replaced by genuine worry.
"I hope he isn't angry. She just arrived yesterday. She doesn't know the family yet. She doesn't know how Father can be when he's upset."
Faha bit his lip, casting a nervous glance toward the doorway where Maya had disappeared.
"Father isn't the type to shout... but his silence is worse than yelling. You know that. Remember when I broke that antique vase?
He didn't say a single word for three days. I would have preferred being scolded."
Fahan nodded grimly. "Should we do something? Intervene? Maybe go with her?"
"What can we do? If Father wants to talk to her, we can't interfere. You know how he is—once he makes a decision, no one changes his mind."
Faha paused, then added quietly, "...I just hope she'll be okay."
Fahan stared at the empty doorway. "Me too. She seemed so composed during breakfast. But what if Father's words are too harsh?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly. "Father is not heartless."
"What?"
"I said Father is not heartless."Fahan's voice was calmer now, though his eyes remained fixed on the doorway.
"Think about it — He's been searching for her for fourteen years. Fourteen years, Faha. He never stopped. Not once."
"I know that but you know how he is. When something matters to him, he becomes cold. "
"That's not coldness," Fahan said quietly. "That's fear."
"Fear?"
"Father has commanded armies but this—" Fahan gestured vaguely toward the doorway.
"This is different, he doesn't know how to handle this. He never did."
"...You're right."
"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."
Faha gave him a flat look. "Don't push it."
Fahad, who had been silent since the revelation, finally rose from his seat. His movement drew every eye.
Hr stopped at the doorway. He didn't turn around. His voice cut through the room like a blade. "All of you. Living room. Now."
Faha blinked. "What—"
Fahad finally turned, "Did I stutter?"
No one moved.
Fahad's voice dropped lower, quieter—which somehow made it worse.
"Get to the living room. All of you. Have you got nothing better to do than sit here gossiping like a bunch of old women?"
Fahan opened his mouth. "We were just—"
"Just what? Just sitting around, whispering about things that are none of your business?
Just making assumptions about a conversation that hasn't even happened yet?
Let me make something very clear.
Maya came here last night,she told us something that clearly shook all of you. And instead of giving Father space to handle this—
You're all sitting here making up stories."
Nahi raised an eyebrow. "We're not making up stories—"
"Then what would you call it?" Fahad turned on him.
Silence.
Fahad exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to his temple. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer—
"Father has waited fourteen years for this.... And on her first morning here, you think he's going to—what? Scold her? Punish her? For what? For telling the truth?"
Faha looked down. "...You're right."
Fahad gestured toward the doorway. "Living room. Now. And find something useful to do . Whatever keeps you occupied. Just not this."
One by one, they rose from the table.
Nahi muttered under his breath, "Bossy..."
Fahad's head snapped toward him. "What was that?"
"Nothing." Nahi hurried past him. "Living room. Got it."
——
The reading room was a sanctuary of quiet elegance. Tall mahogany bookshelves lined every wall.
Their shelves filled with leather-bound volumes. Some books bore gold-embossed titles, others were so old their spines had faded to near-illegibility.
A massive oak desk dominated the center of the room. Neatly arranged papers, a brass lamp and an antique inkwell stood upon it.
Maya stepped inside and stood a few feet from the desk, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. Her dark eyes swept across the room with observation.
Then her gaze settled on Mahim. He was seated behind the desk, his fingers resting lightly on the wood.
For a moment, he simply looked at her,"Maya."
"Yes, Mr. Mahim?"
"Those words you spoke earlier... about the fish. Were you saying them in jest? A joke, perhaps? A way to provoke a reaction?"
"No."
Mahim's fingers stilled against the desk. "No?"
"I was not joking, Mr. Mahim. You asked why I don't eat fish. I gave you the reason. "
"Have you lost your mind, child? Do you even realize what you're saying?"
His words came out sharper than intended.
"Such a thing has happened to you—someone tried to poison you and you didn't think to inform me?"
Maya's expression remained unchanged. Her eyes held his with a calm that seemed almost unnatural for a girl her age.
"Did you report it to anyone at the time? The police? The orphanage authorities?Anyone?"
"No."
"Why not? Who was responsible? How did it happen? Why didn't you seek help?
Did you know who was doing it? How many times did this happen?"
His questions came in rapid succession,he was not merely curious he was demanding answers.
Maya waited until he had finished.
"Mr. Mahim... what is the point of dwelling on the past? Can it be changed? Can it be undone?"
She paused, letting her words settle into the space between them.
"No. It cannot. The past is already written. There is no erasing it. There is no rewriting it.
So why waste energy on something that cannot be altered? Why pour emotion into something that is already finished?"
She tilted her head slightly, a gesture that was almost questioning."I have always believed it is better to focus on the present."
Mahim's expression faltered, his gray eyes losing some of their sharpness. He leaned back in his chair, studying her as though seeing her for the first time.
"And this... this small matter? You didn't want to trouble me with it? With something so serious?"
"Mr. Mahim. You have a family. Responsibilities. An estate to manage. You carry the weight of an entire family on your shoulders."
She paused, her dark eyes holding his.
"I did not wish to burden you with something that happened long ago. Something that no longer threatens me. Something that is already over."
For a long time, Mahim said nothing. He looked at her, searching for something hidden beneath the surface—some trace of the child she should have been.
"...I see." A long exhale escaped him, carrying with it the weight of fourteen years of searching.
He looked away, toward the window, "You may go."
Maya gave a small bow, "Understood."
"Wait."
She paused at the doorway, her hand resting lightly on the brass handle.
"Before you leave... call the butler from outside. Tell him to bring me a cup of tea."
"Of course, Mr. Mahim." She stepped out of the room and closed the door softly behind her.
The butler stood a short distance away,his gloved hands folded before him. "Miss Maya."
"The General requests a cup of tea."
"At once, Miss." As she walked away, the butler's eyes followed her for a brief moment.
Maya walked through the corridor, her footsteps soft against the polished stone. The walls were lined with paintings.
As she approached the living room, her pace slowed. Through the wide archway, she could see her family gathered.
She paused at the threshold, observing.
Fahad sat in a high-backed leather armchair near the window, his laptop balanced on his knee. His brow was furrowed in concentration.
Stock tickers scrolled across the screen.
Occasionally, he would tap a key, make a note on a pad beside him and resume his analysis.
Fahan had claimed a corner of the large sofa, his legs crossed, a miniature robot model spread across the coffee table before him.
Tiny screws, gears and wires lay arranged in careful order. His fingers moved with surprising dexterity for someone so naturally restless.
Occasionally he would pause, tilt his head and examine his work with a frown before continuing. A half-empty cup of coffee sat beside him, long gone cold.
Faha was sprawled across a chaise lounge, a thick script in his hands. His lips moved silently as he read, his expressive face shifting through a range of emotions.
Fahish sat on a cushioned window seat, his sketchbook balanced on his knee. His pencil moved in soft, fluid strokes across the page.
The morning light fell across his face, softening his features.
Mahi was settled in an armchair, a cup of tea beside her, reading a novel with the calm contentment.
Farhan sat near the grand piano, his fingers resting on the keys but not pressing them.
He stared at the instrument with a longing that spoke of something lost—a grief that time had not healed.
His shoulders were slightly hunched, his gaze distant. He seemed to be somewhere far away, trapped in a memory that only he could see.
Maya watched them from a distance. A young maid passed nearby, perhaps nineteen or Twenty.
She carried a tray of empty cups, moving quietly so as not to disturb the family.
Maya turned toward her. "Excuse me."
The maid stopped immediately, turning to face her with a small bow . "Yes, Miss Maya? How may I assist you?"
Maya gestured subtly toward the living room. "They are all here. Are they not going to work today?"
The maid followed her gaze . "Today is Friday, Miss. It is a holiday for the family. On weekends, everyone stays home.
They spend time together — each in their own way but together nonetheless. It's actually quite rare.
During the week, the mansion is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone is out..."
She paused, "But on Fridays, they all gather here."
Maya's gaze drifted back to the room. "Mr.Fahad, he owns his own company, does he not? "
The maid nodded, "Yes, Miss. Master Fahad is indeed the CEO. He oversees everything . He took over at a very young age, you know.
Only twenty-three and he's already expanded the business to three new countries. People in the business world speak of him with great respect."
Her voice dropped to a slightly more confidential tone. "They say he has a mind like a steel trap. Nothing escapes him."
Maya's brow furrowed slightly. "And yet... he works even on a holiday? Scanning stocks, analyzing markets?"
"That is simply how he is, Miss. All of them, really. They take their work very seriously — almost as seriously as they take their family."
She glanced toward the room, her voice dropping more thoughtful tone.
"Master Fahim is the same. He carries medical journals with him everywhere. Even during family dinners, he reads.
Master Faha rehearses his lines constantly. In the garden, in the corridors, even in the bathroom, I think."
She paused, a fond smile touching her lips.
"Master Fahish draws whenever inspiration strikes.
He has sketchbooks hidden all over the mansion. I once found a beautiful sketch of the garden at sunset tucked inside a cookbook.
And Master Fahan ..... well, he has never met a machine he didn't want to take apart and rebuild. His room looks like a laboratory exploded inside it."
Maya listened in silence, her eyes still fixed on the room. "I see. So they are always working."
The maid nodded. "Yes, Miss. They are serious about their work. But they are also serious about each other.
That is what makes this family so special. They fight, they argue, they drive each crazy but they never abandon each other."
Her voice grew softer, more contemplative. "It is why Madam Mahi never gave up searching for you."
Maya was quiet for a moment. Then, without any change in her demeanor, she asked, "And what about Farhan?"