Rishan was the first to break the silence.
"You always do this," he said, voice low but sharp. "You act like it doesn't matter."
Antak turned toward him. Rishan hadn't changed much since they were kids. Same restless energy. Same habit of pacing when something bothered him. He lived in a nearby neighborhood now, ever since his old building went under redevelopment, but he spent more time here than at home. This place had quietly become his second address.
"It does matter," Antak replied. "That's why I don't want it to get worse."
Prayan shifted beside them, uncomfortable with the tension. He was thinner than most of them, always looked like he was processing things a second late, but when emotions were involved, his words landed clean.
"We could've helped," Prayan said. "At least stood there. People don't act so brave when you're not alone."
Antak almost smiled. Almost.
"I know," he said. "And I'm grateful. But right now, I just want things to stop escalating."
A scoff came from behind.
"That's not how the world works anymore," Mahive said. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed, half serious, half playful. "You stay quiet, people walk over you. You speak up, they still do, just louder."
Vanshit hadn't said a word.
He stood slightly apart from the group, stretching his arms slowly after training. Tall. Built. Calm in a way that made everyone else feel unfinished. Back when Antak was still in his physical prime, the two of them had sparred constantly. Sometimes Antak even won.
Vanshit never mentioned those days.
"They didn't leave marks, did they?" Vanshit asked.
Antak shook his head.
Vanshit nodded once. No anger. No reaction. Just information being stored.
Vihanth dropped onto a nearby bench with a tired sigh. "You know what I hate most?" he said. "None of this would've happened if people actually listened. Everyone's too busy deciding things."
Aarish sat beside him, relaxed but alert. He always listened more than he talked, and when he spoke, it usually landed where it needed to.
"You don't look broken," Aarish said, watching Antak carefully. "That's good. But don't pretend this didn't affect you."
"I'm not pretending," Antak replied.
That part was true.
Something had shifted inside him. The anger he expected just wasn't there. What remained was exhaustion, and beneath it, a strange clarity he didn't yet understand.
Sushren arrived late, jogging lightly into the park as if distance meant nothing to him. Shorter than most of them, lean, always slightly out of breath but never actually tired.
"Did I miss the dramatic part?" he asked.
Mahive smirked. "Only the part where we almost started a war."
Sushren glanced at Antak, then nodded once. "Good and anyways wars are expensive."
That earned a few tired laughs.
Nivyan had been there the whole time, sitting on the edge of a low wall, quietly spinning a small metal bolt between his fingers. He was the youngest among them. Lighter. Quicker. Always watching. He didn't talk much unless he had something worth saying.
For a while, they just stayed there.
Talking about small things. Stupid things. Old memories. How the park lights flickered more often these days. How the air recyclers made a whining noise at night. How the underground felt colder lately.
Normal conversations.
Vihanth stretched his legs and leaned back. "You know," he said casually, "I barely see my parents anymore. They're always out. Even on weekends."
Mahive shrugged. "Same. Mine come home tired, eat, sleep. No energy for anything."
Prayan hesitated before speaking. "My dad's been skipping meals. Says he's not hungry. But he always is."
Sushren nodded slowly. "Food's been getting… controlled at my place too. Not bad. Just less."
Rishan frowned. "My mom keeps saying it's temporary. But she says that about everything now."
Antak hadn't planned to say anything, but the words came anyway.
"They leave notes now," he said quietly. "Every day."
That made the air feel heavier.
Nivyan finally spoke.
"It's not just your houses," he said. "I've noticed it around the society too."
They all looked at him.
"Same routines. Same tired faces," Nivyan continued. "It's been happening for weeks."
No one reacted.
They just sat there.
Different homes. Different families.
The same strange silence.
Antak leaned back and looked up at the artificial sky.
"Something big is going on," he said after a moment. "And whatever it is, our parents are all part of it."
"I don't think we should confront them yet," he continued. "Not now. We observe. We pay attention. We find out more without troubling them."
There was a pause.
Then one by one, they nodded.
No promises. Just quiet agreement.
They began leaving the park slowly, splitting off toward their homes after brief goodbyes.
As Antak walked away, the weight of the unspoken settled deeper in his chest.
Whatever their parents were hiding, it wasn't small.
And it wasn't meant for them to know.