Light lingered in fractured shards across the marble floor, scattering from the chandelier like a thousand broken mirrors. The crystals trembled faintly as though even they feared to shine too brightly. Somewhere, hidden in the belly of the mansion, a clock struck — hollow and heavy, each chime falling like the tolling of a bell at a funeral.
No one moved. No one dared to.
Only Maya's body lay at the center of it all, still as carved stone, her small frame cradled in Rahi's trembling arms. Her chest rose and fell, but not with the rhythm of life. It was something slower, more detached — a mechanical cadence, as though breath itself had been reduced to calculation. Her eyes, glassy and distant, reflected nothing.
The family gathered around them like ghosts drawn to a grave. Mahim stood rigid, his back too straight, jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might shatter. Beside him, Mahi wept into her hands, her sobs reduced now to thin, choking gasps. Fahad's fists opened and closed at his sides, the calloused knuckles whitening with every movement. Fahim lingered near the wall, pale as though the air had been stolen from his lungs. Farhan's lips moved silently, whispering her name like a prayer that had already been denied.
And Anik — the one who had poured the glass, the one who had insisted — stood apart, shoulders tense, his face unreadable, his jaw locked. His shadow stretched long across the marble but he could not meet a single pair of eyes.
Rahi did not speak at first. His forehead rested against Maya's gloved hand, his body bent over hers as if by weight alone he could shield her from the emptiness swallowing her whole. His breath came ragged, uneven. Her skin beneath the gloves was cold, cold in a way that felt unreal, stolen, inhuman.
When he finally spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper of cracked steel.
"She's… gone."
Mahi raised her tear-streaked face at once. "No—"
"She's gone," Rahi said again, his voice cutting, but fragile. His eyes lifted, bloodshot, burning, scanning them all with a grief that bordered on fury. "They took her again. Do you hear me? They took her. And we let them."
Mahi's sob cracked into a scream. "Rahi, don't—please—"
"Don't," he snapped, though his voice broke as the word left him. His throat ached from it. His eyes fell back to Maya, her stillness, her frozen breath. "Don't say her name like she's still here. She isn't."
The silence deepened, thick as smoke. It was no longer merely the absence of sound — it was accusation.
Mahim stepped forward at last, though every line of his body trembled. His voice came low, uneven, unlike the steady authority it had always held. "Rahi… we—"
"We broke her." Rahi's words slashed the air before Mahim could finish. "Not just once. Not just tonight. Over and over. We broke her until she had nothing left but the cage they built for her." His voice rose, splintered. "We didn't protect her. We returned her to them. We handed her back to the glass cell. And worse—" his throat caught, his body shaking—"we called it safety."
Mahi collapsed into sobs again, clutching her chest. Fahad's hands lowered, his shoulders slumping, his jaw trembling. Fahim turned his face to the wall, shame burning his pale features. Farhan shut his eyes tight, his whisper dissolving into silence.
Anik did not move.
Rahi's hands tightened around Maya as if his arms could tether her soul to the world. "They built her. Do you understand? They carved her from cruelty, starved her on fear, and named her Subject 17B. They made her a weapon. They made her a cage. And tonight…" His voice cracked into ash. "…tonight, we finished it."
A shadow fell across his face as he lowered his lips close to her ear. His whisper was not for the family but for her alone. "Maya… I am sorry. For every moment they hurt you. For every chain they bound around your soul. And for letting them do it again tonight."
The only reply was the cold, rhythmic hum of her breath, steady and wrong.
His eyes shut tight as his tears slid down to the marble. "I swear to you," he murmured hoarsely, "they will not take you again. Not while I breathe."
The words curled like fire in the silence, hanging there, alive.
Farhan moved hesitantly then, stepping closer, his voice small and shaking. "Rahi… what now? What do...... ?"
Rahi lifted his head, his eyes glimmering not with grief now but with something colder. Harder. A resolve that looked like iron tempered in flame.
"Now…" he said slowly, "…i will burn the cage. Every chain. Every voice. Every shadow that ever dared call her Subject 17B. I burn it all."
Mahim swallowed hard. His voice came low, wary, yet touched with something desperate. "And if we fail?"
Rahi's eyes narrowed, his arms clutching Maya tighter. "We won't." His voice was no longer breaking. It was steel. "We don't get to fail her again."
Mahi sobbed into her hands. Fahad pressed his palms into his face, his body shaking with the weight of guilt. Fahim turned away completely. Farhan clung to silence as though sound itself would betray him.
And still Anik stood apart. Silent. Watching. His shadow on the marble seemed darker than all the rest.
But Rahi ignored them. His gaze never left Maya's face, pale and still. His voice sank low again, almost a growl, almost a plea.
"She's not gone. Not completely. She's in there somewhere." His hand pressed against her shoulder, his knuckles white. "And I will pull her out. Even if I have to tear apart the chains, tear apart this world, tear apart her, I will pull her out."
His voice cracked, but he did not falter. "Because she is not Subject 17B. She is Maya. And I will not let them take that name from her."
The hall seemed to bend around them, the silence twisting into something heavy, suffocating. The chandeliers swayed faintly above, their crystal pendants trembling like tears too afraid to fall.
And then — a single drop of water did fall. One crystal's tear slipped free, striking the marble floor with a sound that shattered the stillness.
A beginning.
A promise.
A warning.
The sound echoed, sharp and alive, as if the house itself had chosen to bear witness.
Rahi's eyes burned through the tears as he bent over her still body once more. His voice was a vow etched into the air:
"They will pay. Every last one of them."
The family stared in silence, each word searing into their bones. The storm outside raged as if in answer, the thunder rolling, the wind tearing at the windows.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
✨