The silence in the Vardhe household felt unnatural.
The living room—usually filled with soft talk, distant traffic, and the quiet shuffle of daily life—was now caught in a kind of suspended breath. The television had gone blank five minutes ago. The broadcast was over. The world had heard it, and so had everyone in this room.
Ishan sat on the floor, his back straight, his eyes calm. He held a cooling cup of chai between both hands. The scent of cardamom had faded.
Across from him, his family stared at him like he'd just admitted to being a god they didn't know they were living with.
His father was the first to speak.
"You knew this was coming?"
Ishan looked up. His voice, when he answered, was steady.
"Yes."
His mother's hand shook slightly as she set a glass down on the table. "That footage… in space. That was real?"
"It was."
"You told us you were in Hyderabad that week."
"I was. Before I left."
No one knew what to say.
His cousin Raghav leaned forward. "You fought an entire invasion fleet by yourself?"
"I erased them," Ishan said.
The words fell hard in the air.
His uncle, who had worked in the defense sector for three decades, looked pale. "And you've had this power since… when?"
"Since I was fifteen," Ishan said. "I didn't understand it at first."
His mother's voice was nearly a whisper. "You never told us."
"I couldn't," Ishan said, gently. "You wouldn't have been safe if I did."
A long silence followed.
His father folded his arms, as if trying to find structure in the chaos. "And what happens now?"
Ishan looked toward the window, where the city stretched past rooftops and trees, unaware of how close it had come to the edge.
"Now the world knows who I am. They'll try to use me. Or control me. Or destroy me. Maybe all three."
"And what will you do?"
"Stay here."
"You think that's an option now?"
"I don't think they get to decide that."
⸻
Somewhere Across the Street – Surveillance Van 14, Kairos South Zone
"Pulse readings steady. No spike."
"He's calm. Extremely calm."
The Kairos observer sat back in her seat, watching the biofield overlay flickering across the screen. Ishan's energy signature, even dormant, registered higher than any known field projection on Earth.
"If he wanted to, this whole district would be gone by now."
"That's why we're not going in."
⸻
Back inside, Ishan stood slowly. He placed the untouched cup of chai on the table.
"I need some air."
His father didn't stop him. His mother watched him leave like she wasn't sure if she'd ever really known him at all.
Ishan stepped out into the hallway. The evening was quiet. The temperature had dropped. A soft wind moved through the trees.
He walked to the balcony, then to the rooftop, his footsteps soundless.
Above him, the sky stretched wide and dark, pinpricked with stars. He didn't feel guilt. He felt clarity.
⸻
Back inside the living room, his father sat back down, rubbing his temples.
"What do you even do with a son like that?" he muttered.
His mother, eyes still on the door, answered softly.
"You don't control him. You just pray the world doesn't make him change."