The house had not yet exhaled after the events of the previous night. The echo of Rahi's words—"Subject 17B"—lingered like smoke in every corner. The grand halls seemed longer, colder, their marble floors reflecting not just light but the weight of secrets, of unspoken horrors. Shadows gathered in corners like sentinels, each one a silent witness to the storm that had walked through their home disguised as a girl.
The family moved together toward her room, each footstep hesitant, unsure, weighted with anticipation. Mahim led, hand steady, face unreadable, though every muscle in his frame betrayed tension. Mahi followed, her fingers twitching nervously, her gaze flickering toward each closed door, longing to push open the one that hid her daughter. Fahad, Fahan, Fahim, and the twins followed silently, their faces pale under the warm chandelier light, their hearts drumming against ribs like trapped birds. And last, Anik, as always, remained observant, calculating, watching every detail, every reaction, as if mapping the terrain before advancing.
The door loomed before them. Plain, unassuming, but it was more than a door—it was a barrier between the world and the girl who had survived horrors they could scarcely imagine. Mahi's hand rose first, trembling as it hovered over the wood. "Maya? It's me. Open the door, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her fear and love.
There was no answer.
"Maya… please…" her voice cracked further, the air heavy with desperation.
From the other side came a voice that was calm, too calm, unsettling in its detachment. "Go away."
Mahim's voice, low and controlled, tried to bridge the distance. "Maya, we just want to help. We want to understand. Please…"
Another pause. Then a laugh, soft and empty, hollow as the wind in a desolate canyon. "Orders don't work on me anymore."
Fahad's eyes narrowed. Frustration and fear tangled in his chest, words thick in his throat. "We are your family! Open the door!"
Silence, oppressive and suffocating, followed.
Finally, Mahim reached for the handle. The door wasn't locked. The simple turn, the quiet creak of hinges, sounded like a drumbeat in a cathedral. And there she was.
Sitting on the floor by the window, notebook open, pencil moving slowly across the page. She was wrapped in layers—long sleeves, high collar, ankle-length skirt. Not a trace of skin except her face and fingertips. Even in her private sanctuary, she remained shielded, guarded, untouchable.
"You should've stayed away," she said softly. The pencil never stopped. Her voice was flat, detached, precise, devoid of emotion.
Mahi stepped closer, trembling. "Why do you cover yourself, child? Even here… even now…"
Maya paused, just for a fraction of a second. Her fingers tightened around the pencil. "Because some scars are not for the living to look at."
Mahi's breath caught.
"My body is not a story for read," Maya continued, pencil scratching again, deliberate, methodical.
Her words, calm and measured, slammed into the room with the force of iron. They were gentle, yet final. Unyielding. Unnegotiable.
Behind her, the black braid swayed as she leaned over her notebook. The face she sketched was not theirs—nor Rahi's, nor anyone present. It was someone else, someone beyond their reach. Someone alive only in her mind.
The realization hit Mahi like a wave. Her daughter's heart had never been here. Not in the house. Not in the room. Not in the soft light of the chandeliers or the warmth of her mother's presence. It had always been somewhere else, in a world built of memory, calculation, and survival.
Mahim stepped closer, measured and firm. "Maya… we are here. We will not leave. But you must let us in."
She tilted her head slightly, dark eyes assessing him, cold, unfeeling. "You do not exist in my calculations," she said.
Her pencil moved again. Another stroke. Another boy. Another fragment of the world that only she understood.
Fahad's hands clenched into fists. "We are your family! Do you not… feel?"
"I feel nothing," she said, black eyes sliding to meet his. Cold, precise, unblinking. "Nothing for what you want. Nothing for what you think. Nothing for you."
Fahad's chest tightened. Rage, helplessness, and fear all tangled in his throat. "We are your family! Alive! Present! And you… you…"
"Orders are meaningless here," Maya interrupted. Her pencil resumed motion. Every word, every motion was precise, intentional. Emotionless. Controlled.
Even Anik, silent as stone, observed her, a predator measuring terrain. He did not intervene. He understood the rules: she did not respond to fear, nor anger, nor love. She responded to precision and consequence.
Fahan whispered, almost to himself, "She's changed. Completely. She is… not the girl we knew. Whatever happened… it changed her into… this."
Farhan remained motionless, knees drawn up, silent, a witness to the hurricane contained in her calm.
Mahi knelt by the floor. "You are safe now. Nothing here can hurt you," she said, voice trembling, heavy with desperation.
Maya's pencil never stopped. Her eyes remained locked on the page. "Safe," she echoed. "The world never stopped hurting . You were never here when it did. Do not pretend your presence changes that."
Tears streaked down Mahi's face, but Maya did not notice. Not because she couldn't see them, but because she could not care. Emotion had been stripped from her existence, layer by layer, until only control remained.
Rahi lingered at the edge of the window, silent, barely daring to breathe. He had followed her, waiting for acknowledgment. Yet she never lifted her eyes to him. He existed outside her calculations, like all others, as a shadow she permitted but did not engage.
Finally, Mahim spoke, measured, calm, firm. "We are here. We will not leave. But you must let us in."
Maya tilted her head briefly toward him, voice flat, emotionless. "emotions are irrelevant."
Her pencil scratched again. A new page. A boy over and over again. A landscape. A fragment of a world she alone understood.
Her notebook snapped closed finally. The silence that fell afterward was thick, suffocating. Each family member froze, unsure whether to speak, retreat, or react.
She adjusted her sleeves and collar with deliberate slowness. Not a trace of vulnerability. Not a flicker of feeling. Only control. Only survival.
"Go,please," she said quietly. Calm, unwavering. Detachment absolute. "Leave me as it is ."
No one moved. Her command was unyielding. Her presence, a wall of ice.
Mahi crumpled to the floor, overcome. "My baby… what did they do to you… my poor child…"
Fahim crouched beside her mother, voice trembling. "Those scars… they weren't accidental. They weren't mistakes. Whoever did this… they weren't human. They were.... ."
Fahan's voice, quiet and hesitant, whispered the truth they all felt. "She live… but at what cost? Emotion… life… a heart."
Fahad's fists clenched tighter. "She is fifteen! Fifteen! What would…?"
Mahim's voice, low and dangerous, cut through them. "Not what. Who."
Farhan's voice trembled. "I saw That is not just endurance. That is… something beyond human costs ."
The servants and guards shrank into corners. No one dared speak. No one dared breathe.
Anik finally broke the silence. Calm, measured, cutting through the weight. "She did not want us to see. That was not shame. That was protection. From you, from anyone who might see her as fragile, as human."
Mahi gasped. "Protection from… us?"
Anik's eyes remained fixed on the floor where Maya sat. "From all of you. From any who would mistake her scars for weakness. She survives by being untouchable. By being… complete control."
The room understood at last.
The girl they had loved and wondered about had never belonged to them. Her body, her mind, her heart—her very essence—was something beyond their reach.
The storm outside whispered against the windows. The house exhaled a silent, heavy breath.
… remained feeling .