Ohi met her eyes without flinching. "I know."
"That was really unnecessary. Especially, the part where you quoted him.The first two remarks were fair. You were making a point.
The third — repeating his own words back to him, word for word, in front of the entire family — that was punishment. Do you have any idea what have you done? "
The room turned toward him. "Yes, I did."
Nahi's pen tapped once against the notebook —
"No. You didn't. You could have said it differently. You could have said it later. You could have said it privately. You could have — I don't know — given him a chance to explain himself first."
"There was nothing to explain."
"There was plenty to explain."
Ohi turned his head,he looked at Nahi properly — and his expression was not the polished,amused one he usually wore. It was flat, serious.
"He said he didn't have a sister in front of the entire family. He said it in front of Mother. He said it in front of Father."
He paused.
"Do you remember Maya's face that night, Nahi? When she walked into that reception hall? When she stood there with her schoolbag and gloves.
And every single one of us stared at her like she was a stranger who had wandered into the wrong house?"
Nahi said nothing.
"She didn't react, not once. She just stood there and said 'good evening' and let us look at her like she was used to it. Like being looked at that way —
Like being measured and doubted and not believed — was something she had already learned to survive."
His jaw tightened. "So yes. I humiliated him because for one morning — just one — he needed to feel a fraction of what she has been feeling since the day she was brought in."
The room went very still.
Then Naya closed her book slowly. She set it down on the side table beside her teacup."He's right."
Nahi turned toward her.
"I understand why Fahish was angry, I do. I've known him since we were children. He is not a cruel person. He is not a cold person. He is the opposite.
He feels things more than he shows, and when he feels too much — he retreats. He hides. He writes. He draws. He pretends he doesn't care because caring is too heavy."
She paused.
"When Maya came home, he was not ready. None of us were. It was sudden, and it was strange, and it opened a wound that this family has been carrying for fourteen years. So he said what he said. He lashed out. He denied her."
Her eyes lifted — and settled on the doorway through which Fahish had disappeared.
"But that does not mean it was right."
Nahi leaned forward slightly. "Then what do you call it?"
"I call it what it is an injustice. He denied his own sister in front of the entire family. He rejected her before he had even seen her face.
He was angry. I know and he had every right to be angry . No one is saying he didn't."
His gaze dropped briefly.
"I understand why he was angry. I really do. After everything that happened, after everything he went through, hearing that his sister was coming back probably brought a lot of things up for him. Fear. Confusion. Maybe even resentment.
But being angry doesn't make what he did right. You heard your sister was coming home. You should have been happy or at least... you could have at least pretended.
But instead of doing that, what did you do?"
Nahi's expression tightened.
"You got irritated with your Mom when she tried to talk to you about Maya. You stood there and argued with her because you didn't want to accept your biological sister as your sister.
And then, this morning — this morning, he stood up and told Ohi to leave her alone and tried to drive her to school like none of it had happened."
She looked at Nahi.
"You don't get to skip the apology."
Nahi opened his mouth — then closed it.
"I'm not saying he should be punished forever. I'm not saying we should hold it over him for the rest of his life. But he needed to be reminded. He needed to hear it out loud.
He needed to remember what he said —because a person who forgets what they said is a person who will say it again."
She reached for her teacup and took a slow sip.
"Ohi reminded him."
She set the cup down."Good."
Silence.
Nahi stared at her for a long moment. Then he let out a slow breath — half sigh, half laugh, entirely without humor.
"You two, you two are terrifying when you agree."
"We're not agreeing," Ohi said. "We're being honest."
"Same thing," Nahi muttered. Then he picked up his pen and for lack of anything better to do, tapped it twice against the page.
He was quiet for another moment. Then he spoke again — softer this time, almost to himself.
"I still think you could have been gentler."
"Probably," Ohi admitted.
"You didn't have to bring up the exact words."
"Probably not."
"You could have just — pulled him aside. Talked to him alone. You could have made your point without making him feel like everyone in the room was judging him."
"I could have."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because he would have brushed it off. He would have said 'I know, I know, I'll apologize later.' And then he wouldn't.
He would have gone back to his sketchbook and his coffee and his quiet corner and he would have convinced himself that it didn't matter. That she didn't notice. That she didn't care."
He paused.
"But she does notice. She notices everything. She notices more than any of us realize. And if we keep pretending that what he said was just — a moment, a slip, something to move past — then one day she'll believe it. She'll believe she isn't wanted. And she'll leave."
His voice dropped.
"And I don't think she would come back."
The room went silent.
Nahi stopped tapping his pen. Naya's hand, resting on the arm of her chair, went still.
Even the servant near the far doorway had stopped pretending to work.
Ohi looked at Nahi.
"So yes. I embarrassed him. I made him feel small. And I would do it again — because he needed to remember.
Because if we don't hold each other accountable for the things we say, then what are we? Just a family that looks good on paper."
Nahi held his gaze for a long time.
Then — slowly — he nodded.
"Okay. Okay."
He looked down at his notebook. Then he closed it.
"I still think you're terrifying."
Ohi's lips curved — just slightly. The first trace of his usual self, returning to his face.
"Good," he said.
Naya, watching them both, allowed herself a small, quiet smile. Then she picked up her book again and opened it to where she had left off.