The maid hesitated. Her smile faltered slightly, and a shadow passed over her features.
She glanced toward the room where Farhan sat motionless near the piano.
"Master Farhan ..... he was a prodigy, Miss Maya. Everyone said so.He could play the piano before he could properly read.
I remember once, at a family gathering, he performed a piece that had everyone in tears.
Even Master Mahim, who rarely shows emotion. It was like the music spoke directly to the soul."
She stopped there. Her lips pressed together, and she shook her head slightly as though pushing the rest of the story away.
Maya's gaze remained fixed on her face.
She had noticed the pause, the way the maid's fingers had tightened around the tray, she knows something.
The maid adjusted the tray in her hands, her posture straightening. When she spoke again, her voice was lighter—
"But that's all in the past, Miss. There's no point dwelling on it. Now...is there anything you need? Are you comfortable?
If you have any problem at all, anything. Please don't hesitate to tell me. I'll make sure it's taken care of immediately."
"Thank you, I'm fine."
The maid nodded. "Anything else, Miss. "
"He doesn't play anymore, is he? "
The maid's smile wavered. "No, Miss. He...no. He doesn't."
"Why?" The single word hung between them.
The maid's fingers tightened around the tray again. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Her eyes darted to the side checking if anyone was within earshot. "I shouldn't speak of it, Miss. It's not my place."
"I understand," Maya said. The silence stretched.
The maid shifted uncomfortably, something in the young girl's steady gaze seemed to unsettle her.
"There was an accident, A few months ago. His hands..."
"I see," Maya said quietly. "So he lost something he loved. Something that defined him."
"Yes, Miss....I think he still has not found a way to move forward. He talks to his brothers but his voice carries a weight that shouldn't be there for someone so young."
She bit down on her tongue — a sharp, sudden pressure as if punishing herself for the words that had almost escaped.
"It's not my place, I'm sorry, Miss. I've already said too much.
Please— if you need anything at all, just call for me. My name is Anjali . I'll be nearby."
"Thank you for telling me, Anjali. "Maya said, "I understand now."
"Very well, Miss. I'll be nearby if you require anything."
The maid— Anjali bowed quickly and turned to leave. Her footsteps were hurried, almost eager, as though she wanted to put distance between herself and the conversation.
Maya watched her go — the way she watched everything. The maid walked a few steps away, her footsteps soft against the polished marble floor.
Then she stopped. She was perhaps ten feet from Maya now—
She shifted the tray to her other hand, lifted her hand and pressed it briefly against her mouth.
A small, frustrated gesture.
"Idiot," she whispered to herself. "You absolute idiot. Why does your mouth run like that? Why can't you just keep quiet? You almost—"
She took a shaky breath, "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. If anyone heard you— if Master Fahad heard you—"
She shook her head, still muttering and continued walking toward the kitchen, her shoulders tense, her steps quicker now.
Maya did not turn to watch the maid disappear down the corridor. Interesting.
The word surfaced without emphasis. Mr. Fahim watches. Mr. Fahad controls. Mr. Fahan distracts. Mr. Faha performs. Mr. Fahish observes. And Mr. Farhan...hides.
Six brothers... Three cousins. A mother who searched for years. A father who carries guilt.
What A Interesting Family.
Maya's gaze drifting across the living room where her family sat scattered like pieces of a puzzle that had never quite fit together.
On the wall beside her hung a mirror. It was old — framed in dark, polished wood, its glass carrying the faint cloudy sheen of something that had witnessed too many years.
It should have reflected the corridor behind her. The pale walls. The soft morning light filtering through distant windows. IT DID NOT.
The reflection showed a girl. But the girl was not Maya. Her hair was red. A deep, burning crimson that spilled over her shoulders like liquid fire.
Her eyes held no glasses. They were blue — like moonlight caught beneath frozen water. Beneath her right eye, a small black heart-shaped mark rested against her skin.
The reflection smiled. "Why did Mahi wait fourteen years to find you?"
The voice was soft but laced with something cruel beneath the surface — a mocking lilt.
Maya did not turn. She kept her gaze fixed on the living room, her expression unchanged.
The reflection tilted its head, red hair shifting like slow-moving flame.
"She is a lawyer. One of the most powerful women in the country. She has resources. Connections. Influence.
She could have found you years ago."
A pause. "So why now? Why did it take her fourteen years?"
Maya remained silent.
The reflection's blue eyes drifted — past Maya, past the corridor, toward the hallway that led to Mahim's reading room.
"And him — A military general. Resources. Intelligence networks. If anyone could find a missing child, it would be him."
The red-haired girl leaned closer to the glass, her breath fogging the surface from within. "And yet... fourteen years."
"Don't annoy me, Yama."
"Annoy you? I'm asking a question. That's all. Just a question. You used to like my questions."
"I used to tolerate them."
"Same thing."
The reflection laughed — melodic, utterly without warmth. Then it moved.A hand emerged from the mirror's surface —
Pale, slender, impossibly real. The glass rippled like water as Yama pushed through it, her fingers curling around the frame's edge.
She stepped forward, half in this world, half in the other — her body still shimmering at the edges with the reflection's light.
Her hand reached for Maya's head. And then gently, obsessively — she began to stroke Maya's hair.
Like someone soothing a wounded animal or claiming one.
"What's wrong?" she murmured, her fingers threading through the dark strands. "You don't like me anymore?"
"What's gotten into you today?"
Yama's smile softened — "Nothing much."
Her blue eyes flickered toward the living room.
"I just find this family... amusing."
Maya was quiet for a moment.Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of her lips curved.
"I'll admit it, then. This family is Amusing."
Yama's stroking stopped. She looked down at Maya and for the first time, something genuine flickered across her cold, beautiful face.
Not affection, something rarer. Agreement. "You know, there are moments — very rare moments when you and I actually think alike."
Maya said nothing but she did not pull away.
Yama's fingers resumed their slow, rhythmic stroking through Maya's hair.
Maya felt it, those fingers. Sliding through her hair. Yama always touched her like this like she was memorizing the texture of every strand.
The touch was gentle, almost tender. It made Maya's skin crawl.
There was something possessive in the touch. Something that claimed rather than comforted.
She exhaled quietly.
"Sleep."
Yama's fingers paused. "W-what?"
"Sleep. You must have other things to do."
Maya reached up and brushed Yama's hand away.
Not a slap. Casually, the way someone might brush off a fly that had landed on their sleeve. Careless. Almost bored.
Yama stood frozen. Her blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second, her gaze dropped to her — own hand.
Her left eye twitched. "...Did you just swat me?"
"No."
"You did. You swatted me. Like a—" Her voice rose, then dropped as if she couldn't decide whether to be offended or amused.
"Like a mosquito."
Maya didn't look at her. "No."
"Then what was that?"
"A fly."
Silence.
Yama's expression flattened. The air around her seemed to drop several degrees."...A fly."
"Hmmmmmm."
"A fly."
"Hmmmmmm."
"A fly."
"AHmmmmmm."
"You're repeating yourself."
Yama leaned closer, her crimson hair falling like a curtain between Maya and the corridor. Her voice dropped to a whisper— dangerous, utterly still.
"Say. That. Again. I dare you."
Maya finally turned her head. Her dark eyes met Yama's blue ones. There was no fear in them. No hesitation.
Only the exhaustion of someone who had endured this conversation a hundred times before. "I said sleep."
Yama stared at her, Maya stared back. The mirror rippled as if even the glass didn't know which side was real anymore.
Then— almost imperceptibly, the corner of Yama's lips twitched. "You're impossible."
"I know."
"I wasn't complimenting you."
"I know."
Yama exhaled — a sound caught somewhere between frustration and something dangerously close to fondness.
She pulled her hand back, letting her fingers trail last time through Maya's hair before withdrawing fully into the glass.
"Fine, I'll sleep. But only because you're boring me."
"Good."
"Don't miss me too much."
"I won't."
"I know you won't. That's what makes you so irritating."
Maya said nothing.
The reflection shifted. The red hair dimmed. The blue eyes faded. The black heart-shaped mark beneath Yama's eye dissolved like ink in water.
The mirror showed only Maya. A quiet girl in a black shirt, standing in a corridor, staring at her own reflection.
She adjusted her glasses. Then — she began to turn away, intending to continue her exploration of the estate. But before she could take more than a few steps—
"Are you leaving already?"
The voice came from the living room. Maya turned to see Fahim looking up from his book.
His gray eyes studying her with that same quiet analysis he seemed to reserve for everything.
"I would like to explore the estate for a while."
A faint smile appeared on Mahi's face. She set down her novel, her expression softening with gentle warmth.
"Of course, Maya. Take your time. The grounds are extensive — there is much to see. The rose garden in the east wing is particularly beautiful this time of year."
She glanced toward the servants who stood at attention along the walls.
"If Miss Maya wishes to go anywhere, make sure she has whatever she needs. Water, shade, a guide if she desires one.
Do not let her wander alone without assistance. The estate is large and paths can be confusing."
Several servants bowed immediately. "Yes, Madam."
Maya inclined her head politely toward Mahi. "Thank you, Mrs. Sunayana. That will not be necessary. I prefer to explore on my own. "
Mahi's smile did not waver, though something flickered in her eyes.
A brief shadow of disappointment at the formal address. She had hoped, perhaps that Maya would call her something warmer.
But she understood. Fourteen years of absence couldn't be bridged in a single day. "As you wish, dear. But if you need anything, please ask. The staff will always be nearby."
Maya gave a small nod. "I will."
Without another word, she turned and walked toward the tall wooden doors that led outside. Her footsteps were so light against the marble that they barely made a sound.
The servants standing along the walls stepped aside respectfully as she passed, their eyes following her with quiet curiosity.
The wooden doors opened before her, pulled open by two servants who moved in perfect synchrony.
Warm morning sunlight poured into the hall, golden and welcoming.
The scent of fresh flowers and dew-kissed grass drifted through the doorway, carrying with it the promise of a beautiful day.
Maya stepped across the threshold. The doors closed behind her with a soft click.
Fahad looked up from his laptop. "She's very... independent. She didn't even ask for directions. Most people would at least want a map."
Fahim closed his book, placing it on the table beside him.
Fahan set down his miniature robot, his playful demeanor replaced by rare seriousness. "She looked at us like we were strangers. Polite —strangers. But strangers nonetheless."
Ohi nodded slowly. "She's keeping us at a distance. Every 'Mr.' and 'Miss' is a wall she builds between herself and us.
It's like she's saying, 'I'm here, but I'm not yours. Don't expect anything from me.'"
Naya sighed softly, "Can you blame her? She grew up without us...Fourteen years is a long time to live alone.
She didn't have a mother to hold her when she was scared. She didn't have brothers to protect her. So she learned to be her own everything."
___
Maya walked slowly along the stone pathways that wound through the Sunayana estate.
The gardens stretched before her in a —breathtaking display of nature and design.
Ancient trees lined the paths, branches forming a natural canopy that filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the ground. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting golden shadows that shifted with the breeze.
Flowers of every color bloomed in carefully tended beds—
Roses as red as blood, lilies as white as snow, orchids in shades of purple and pink that seemed almost unreal.
Bees buzzed lazily from bloom to bloom, collecting nectar in the morning warmth.
Fountains bubbled softly in the distance . The sound of water falling over stone was soothing.
Birds sang from the branches overhead.
Maya walked, her eyes taking in everything yet lingering on nothing, her steps were unhurried.
Her gloved hand brushed against a rose bush.
A drop of water clung to the tip of her finger, glistening like a tear. She looked at it for a moment.
Then, she continued walking.
Somewhere behind her, the mansion stood tall —a monument to a legacy she had never known, a family she had never met, a life that had been waiting for her.
[AN HOUR PASSED QUIETLY ]
Throughout that entire time, Maya wandered through the vast Sunayana estate.To anyone watching, she appeared to be admiring the beauty of the estate.
But inside her mind, something entirely different was happening —
Every turn she took, every intersection she crossed, doorway and open space was being organized with remarkable precision.
Within a single hour, the scattered images had assembled themselves into a complete three-dimensional mental map of the estate.
She no longer needed to look around to know where she was.
---
The living room had settled into its own quiet rhythm.
Fahad remained in his leather armchair, laptop balanced on his knee, fingers moving across the keys in slow intervals.
Across the room, Fahan had abandoned his miniature robot entirely.
The scattered gears and screws lay across the table but his attention had drifted elsewhere. He kept glancing toward the doorway, then toward the clock on the mantelpiece.
He checked it again, finally he set down the tiny screwdriver in his hand and frowned."One hour. It's been one hour. She still hasn't come back."
Faha, sprawled across the chaise lounge with a script resting open on his chest, lifted his head just enough to glance at his brother. "Are you worried?"
"I'm not worried," Fahan said quickly. "I'm observant."
"You're worried."
"I'm observant."
Faha looked up from his script, "Relax, she probably just got lost. It happens sometime."
Farhan turned toward him. "What do you mean?"
Faha tilted his head toward Ohi, who was seated cross-legged on the wide sofa, scrolling lazily through his phone. "Remember the day Ohi first came to the estate?"
Ohi didn't look up. "I remember it perfectly." Then, he immediately looked up,"Excuse me?"
"The day you first came to this house, you disappeared for two hours. We searched everywhere.
Father eventually had to send his personal bodyguards to track him down, he was convinced you'd fallen into the lake."
Farhan blinked. "Wait. That actually happened?"
"It absolutely happened," Fahish said from his window seat, not looking up from his sketchbook. His pencil moved in soft, steady strokes.
"And it was not a small operation. Father treated it like a military exercise. Six guards. Two search teams. A full perimeter sweep of the gardens."
Ohi finally lowered his phone. "That's not what happened."
Faha raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what happened?"
"I wasn't lost." Ohi's tone was calm, almost bored. "I was playing hide and seek."
Fahish's pencil stopped mid-stroke. "Hide and seek."
"Yes."
"With whom?"
Ohi shrugged. "With myself."
Nahi snorted. "With yourself?"
"I mean with the layout of the house. And for the record, Uncle didn't need to send anyone. I was perfectly fine. I simply chose not to be found."
Naya, who had been quietly reading near the far window, let out a soft breath that might have been a laugh. "That is the most Ohi thing I have ever heard."
Fahish, still sketching, didn't look up. "That's a very elegant way of saying you got lost."
"I did not get lost."
"You were found near the gardener's shed," Faha said cheerfully. "Crying."
"I was not crying. My eyes were watering. It was dusty."
"It was raining that day."
Ohi opened his mouth, closed it, then waved a dismissive hand. "You're all....You're all terrible people. "
Naya, seated near the window with a cup of tea, smiled into her cup. "We know. You're just now realizing this?"
Fahish finally set his sketchbook down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You all know, this family would be far more peaceful if all of you learned to be quiet."
Nahi stretched his arms above his head, entirely unbothered. "Anyway. Back to the actual topic. Maya. One hour, no sign of her. "
Across the room, Fahim had been silent through most of the exchange. He sat near the window,
he closed the book.
"Should someone check on her?"
Fahan glanced at the clock again. "That's what I was saying."
Fahim set the journal aside and folded his hands.
"She's been gone for over an hour. She doesn't know the estate. She has no phone, no map, no guide.
She's been here less than a day. She has no reason to trust anyone and every reason to be cautious.
And a fifteen-year-old girl in a place she's never been. Regardless of how capable she may seem, someone should make sure she's safe."
Fahad closed his laptop. "You're right."
Fahan was already on his feet. "I'll go."
Fahim held up a hand. "No. You'll get distracted. You'll see a flower or a butterfly and forget what you went out there for."
Fahan opened his mouth, closed it, then sat back down.
Fahim turned toward the doorway. "I'll send one of the staff. Someone who won't draw attention. Just to confirm she's fine."
Ohi raised an eyebrow. "You're going to spy on her."
Fahim's expression didn't change. "I'm going to check on her."
"That's spying with better manners."
"Would you prefer I let her get lost?"
"I'd prefer you admit you're curious."
Fahim paused. For a fraction of a second, something flickered across his composed features.
"...I'll have someone check on her."
Naya set down her book, "Do you think she's in danger?"
"No," Fahim said.
"But I think she may be uncomfortable and I think she would not ask for help even if she needed it."
The bickering had reached its peak.
Fahan was still sulking about being told he would get distracted. Faha was still defending himself with increasingly dramatic gestures.
Fahish had given up on his sketchbook entirely and was now pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.
"Enough." Mahi had risen from her armchair. Her novel lay closed on the table, her eyes—her eyes were not calm.
The room went completely still.
"Enough, all of you, quiet right now. " Faha, mid-gesture with one hand still raised in self-defense, he lowered it.
Ohi quietly pocketed his phone. Even Fahad—who rarely answered to anyone, set his laptop aside and sat up.
"One of you wants to watch her. Another wants to follow her, a third wants to send someone to check on her.
Do you have any idea — any — what you are doing?" No one answered.
"I searched for that girl for fourteen years.
Fourteen years. I looked through hospitals. Through orphanages.
I lost sleep. I lost years. I lost — more than any of you will ever understand." She stopped, just for a breath,
"I didn't spend years of my life searching for her just so all of you could scare her away within a single morning."
Faha, who had spent his entire life performing confidence, suddenly looked very, very small.
"You think she's quiet because she's shy? You think she calls you 'Mr.' and 'Miss' because she has good manners?"
Ohi, who had been so certain Maya was fine — was staring at his own shoes as though they might offer an escape route.
Even Fahad—Fahad, who controlled the family's businesses, who spoke to millionaires without blinking — had lowered his eyes.
"She calls you that because she doesn't trust you. Because somewhere out there, for fourteen years, she learned that people are dangerous—
And the ones who claim to care about you are the most dangerous of all."
The room felt smaller. Fahish's fingers were gripping the edge of his sketchbook.
Mahi's voice did not rise, it got quieter. "So let me make something very clear." The room seemed to hold its breath.
"If that girl gets frightened and if she decides—because of you—that this house is not safe.
If she feels watched or cornered or handled — and she runs away because of it —"
She let the sentence hang.
"I will hold every single one of you responsible. Every one of you. And I promise you , I will not make it pleasant.
And I will not care whose son you are, do you understand me?"
Silence.
Every person in that room was her son or her nephew. Every person in that room carried the Sunayana name.
In that exact moment none of it mattered. "I said—do you understand me?"
A chorus of quiet, hurried answers came back at once.
"Yes, Mother."
"Yes, Mother."
"Yes, Aunt Mahi."
"Yes, Aunt Mahi."
Mahi's eyes moved slowly across each of them. — Including her husband's sons, including her nephews and niece.
Fahad's jaw tightened, he simply lowered his eyes. For the first time, the eldest son of the Sunayana family looked genuinely afraid.
Mahi straightened her sari and looked around the room,
"Good, now all of you find something useful to do. Something quiet. Something that does not involve that girl."
She walked toward the doorway, before she left, she paused.
"And if I hear a single one of you call her a fairy again— you will wish you hadn't."
She stepped out of the room, no one moved.
Faha leaned toward Fahish and whispered, "She didn't say we couldn't call her fairy in our heads."
Fahish shot him a look that could have melted steel.
"I...I'm just joking."
"You'd better be."
Across the room, Fahad slowly leaned back in his chair and exhaled. He pressed two fingers to his temple.
"...I think, we should all take Mother's advice. Immediately."
No one argued.