The unspoken desires
CHAPTER 2
~Time Skip ~
— At Haya home —
The manor stood defiant against the twilight sky, a sprawling behemoth of stone and shadow. It wasn’t the height that impressed, though it possessed a respectable three stories, but rather the sheer, unsettling breadth of the structure. It stretched outwards, a labyrinthine collection of wings and additions, like a house perpetually under construction but never quite finished. Windows were a rare commodity, mere slivers of glass punctuating the otherwise oppressive stone facade. Instead, doors dominated. Heavy, oak doors studded the walls with alarming frequency, each a dark maw leading to some unknown corner of the house. They hinted at a network of passages, a warren of rooms hidden within the manor’s vast interior.
The stonework itself was a patchwork of styles, suggesting centuries of alterations and repairs. Rough-hewn blocks formed the base, giving way to smoother, more refined courses higher up. Ivy, thick and ancient, clung to the walls, obscuring much of the lower levels in a verdant embrace. The roof was a jumble of angles and pitches, a haphazard arrangement of slate tiles that seemed to defy gravity. Chimneys, tall and numerous, rose like skeletal fingers against the darkening sky, promising warmth that somehow never seemed to radiate outwards.
Approaching the main entrance was an exercise in anticipation and unease. The path, overgrown with weeds and cracked paving stones, led to a massive, arched doorway. Two stone gargoyles, weathered and worn, flanked the entrance, their expressions frozen in a silent, eternal vigil. The main door, crafted from thick, iron-banded oak, was a formidable barrier, promising both shelter and confinement. Stepping across the threshold would mean surrendering oneself to the manor’s peculiar embrace, to the endless corridors, the silent rooms, and the unsettling sense of being utterly, irrevocably lost within its monumental, yet strangely door-filled, expanse.
The door clicked shut, sealing the world outside, but the silence within the house was far from comforting. Haya stepped inside, Shreya trailing beside her as always—a shadow that had grown so accustomed to her presence it no longer needed to be asked. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting long, amber streaks across the marble floor. But before Haya could even kick off her sandals, she felt it—a gaze. Heavy. Waiting.
Her mother, Ayesha, stood in the center of the living room like a sentinel. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told a story far louder than words ever could.
“Where were you, Haya?” Ayesha’s voice was calm, but it carried a sharpness that could cut glass. She moved swiftly, her fingers finding Haya’s ear with practiced precision, twisting just enough to make her point.
“Nowhere, Mum. I was just busy with some tasks, you know. Ahh.” Haya winced, her hand instinctively flying to her ear, trying to free it from her mother’s iron grip. But Ayesha only pulled harder, her patience wearing thin.
“Yes, I know your work,” Ayesha said, her voice dropping into something serious, something that bordered on hurt. “You even forgot to call me. Don’t you know you were gone for two days with no clue where you were and no phone calls?” She released Haya’s ear only to deliver a light slap across her cheek—a sting that was more emotional than physical. “You know your dad and I were worried.”
Haya’s hand moved from her ear to her cheek, rubbing the spot where the slap had landed. “Ahh, Mama. My phone was dead and I forgot my charger at home. I’m so sorry.” She tilted her head, holding her ear and pouting, her eyes wide and innocent.
Ayesha couldn’t help it. A chuckle escaped her lips, softening the edges of her anger. “You can never be serious, na.”
Haya’s gaze flickered sideways, landing on Shreya, who had been standing there, a silent spectator with a peculiar glint in her eyes. “Can’t you tell her my phone was dead?” Haya said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re laughing for no reason, and if there is a reason, tell me so I can laugh too.”
Shreya’s smile froze. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. “N… nothing… I was just thinking about something. Sorry I forgot to inform. Sorry, Mom.” She bowed her head slightly, her shoulders drawn inward as she retreated from the room, muttering something about office work before disappearing into the hallway.
The door clicked shut again, leaving mother and daughter alone in the fading light.
