The news anchor's voice still echoes in Aryan's mind. "Who… is Reyza Vale?"
The words settle like a weight in his chest. He and Meera sit frozen, eyes glued to the dark screen. Even with the TV off, the images replay in his head—Aarohi standing in front of flashing cameras, speaking a name that sent ripples through the world.
Reyza Vale.
Aryan doesn't know why, but something about it feels… wrong. Familiar, almost. Like he's heard it before, long ago, in a forgotten whisper.
The door swings open.
Aryan barely reacts, but Meera looks up as his father enters, carrying a bag of food in one hand and a tense expression on his face. He sets the bag down on the table, sighing.
"I brought lunch," he announces, his voice flat.
Neither Aryan nor Meera move. The weight of what they just saw keeps them frozen.
Then his father's eyes land on the TV remote in Aryan's hand.
In an instant, his entire demeanor changes. His expression darkens, his posture stiffens. Without hesitation, he strides forward, snatching the remote from Aryan's grip before he can react.
Click.
The TV goes black.
"You don't need to be watching this," his father says sharply.
Aryan blinks, caught off guard. "Dad—"
"I said enough." His father's voice leaves no room for argument. He shoves the remote aside, his movements tense, controlled. He turns to Meera, his expression softening just a fraction. "Eat. Both of you."
Meera hesitates but nods, taking the plate he hands her. Aryan, however, doesn't touch his food.
His father has never reacted like this before. Sure, he got annoyed sometimes, scolded Aryan for wasting time, but this? This was different. This was fear, hidden beneath frustration.
Something isn't right.
And then, before he can stop himself, Aryan speaks.
"Who are the Vale?"
His father freezes.
The shift is almost imperceptible—but Aryan sees it. The tightening of his shoulders, the way his hand clenches just a little too hard around the lunch bag.
A flicker of something in his eyes.
Fear.
It lasts only a second before his father schools his face into something neutral. "You don't need to worry about that," he says, too quickly. "Just focus on your studies."
Aryan narrows his eyes. "But—"
"Drop it, Aryan."
His father's voice is firm. But the slight tremor in it betrays him.
Aryan has always been good at reading people, at knowing when someone is hiding something. And right now, his father is terrified.
Of what?
Or… of who?
The silence in the room stretches uncomfortably. His father turns away, busying himself with unpacking the food, as if that will end the conversation.
But Aryan isn't done.
Because now, he isn't just curious.
Now, he needs to know.
Aryan doesn't drop it.
He can't.
The way his father reacted—it wasn't normal. It wasn't just irritation or anger. It was fear.
And fear only exists where there are secrets.
Aryan watches his father carefully, taking slow bites of his food, his mind running through possibilities. Meera stays quiet beside him, stealing glances between him and his father, sensing the tension thickening in the air.
He has to ask.
"You knew that name," Aryan says finally, his voice calm but firm. "Vale."
His father doesn't look up from his plate. "I said drop it."
"You wouldn't be this scared if it was nothing."
His father tenses. Just for a second. Barely noticeable. But Aryan catches it.
"You're imagining things," his father mutters, but his hands aren't steady anymore. He picks up a glass of water, but his grip falters slightly, the liquid trembling.
Aryan exchanges a glance with Meera. She sees it too.
He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Is this about Aarohi?"
His father finally looks up. His eyes—usually steady, unwavering—are clouded with something Aryan can't quite name.
And then, in the softest voice, he says, "She shouldn't have said that name."
Aryan's pulse kicks up. "Why?"
His father exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. He looks… tired. Not just from today, but from something older, something heavy that's been sitting on his shoulders for a long time.
"Aryan," he says quietly, "some names should be forgotten."
The way he says it sends a shiver down Aryan's spine.
"But she didn't forget," Aryan presses. "And neither did you."
His father stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back. "This conversation is over."
He grabs his coat. "Eat your food. Stay out of this. I mean it, Aryan."
And then he walks out.
The door clicks shut behind him.
For a few moments, Aryan and Meera just sit there, the sound of their breathing filling the silence.
Then Meera whispers, "We need to find out who Reyza Vale really is."
Aryan nods slowly.
Because one thing is clear—
His father knows the truth.
And whatever it is, it terrifies him.