The Smile That Lied, and the Eyes That Didn't
The jeep rattled into motion, hiccupping like it had swallowed too much air before coughing itself into gear. Then it found a rhythm—not elegant, just stubborn—as it bounced from one pothole to the next like a toddler throwing tantrums on wheels.
Luna's Mood: soured and mildly murderous.
Luna tightened her grip on the wheel, swerving slightly to dodge a particularly malicious crater.
Beside her, Adyanth stared into the side mirror like it held secrets. Not thoughtfully but obsessively. Like something back there had started talking and only he could hear it.
Luna glanced at him, brow furrowing.
'Maybe he's missing the orphanage', she thought. 'After all, he's lived there for two years. It's not like he was just passing through.'
She hesitated, then broke the silence.
"Will you miss it?"
---
Adyanth didn't reply right away.
Because Adyanth was currently engaged in a losing battle against sensory overload.
His senses weren't just sharp—they were having a rave party inside his skull.
Every creek of the jeep sounded like thunder. He could hear the fuel snake from the tank to the engine, smell the exact moment the spark ignited, and detect engine oil like someone had poured it into his nose.
He could hear Luna's heartbeat—which, for some reason, was annoyingly fast—and smell the faint trace of her perfume tangled with sweat.
And it wasn't just one thing at a time.
It was all of it, all at once.
It made his head spin, like trying to watch seventeen screens in a dark room with subtitles turned off.
He was holding on just barely. With his signature painted Smile and perfect posture. But inside?
He is a complete mess.
So when Luna's voice cut through his focus with a seemingly random question, he blinked and asked:
"Miss who?"
His tone was so nonchalant, it was borderline insulting.
Luna clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"The orphanage, you dishrag. You've been staring at it through the mirror this whole time."
Adyanth blinked again, mildly amused by the dishrag insult. Then replied:
"Oh, no. Not the orphanage. I was just looking at the road behind us. You know—my village's that way. I was wondering when I'll get the chance to visit my parents' graves again."
---
Adyanth never talked about his parents.
Ever.
Even when Luna asked, he always changed the topic like a professional magician.
But today?
Something shifted.
Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the way Luna looked at him like he was more than just the sum of his silence.
He decided to let her in. Just a slide through a window.
He couldn't give her a real friendship—not when he faked every laugh and mirrored every smile—but he could atleast open up a bit. That is the least he could do for now.
"I see," Luna said softly, her voice touched with solemn quiet.
She knew how rarely Adyanth spoke about his past.
She wanted to ask more. About his life in the village. About his parents. More importantly about him.
But she didn't.
Because a part of her was terrified.
Terrified that pushing too hard would make him pull away. That questions would snap the fragile thread between them.
She settled on one.
"Did you miss them?" she asked, tentative and hopeful.
---
Adyanth paused.
Did I miss them?
He honestly wasn't sure.
His mind was too broken to register grief the way people expected it. His emotions felt sealed away, unreachable. All he could feel is the numb sensation, whenever he thought about his parents.
He wondered, just for a second, if he should tell Luna the truth.
That he couldn't feel anything positive.
That mourning and grief escaped him.
That guilt gnawed at his insides not because he lost someone—but because he couldn't feel that loss.
But he didn't want the pity. Not from anyone.
Especially not from Luna.
Because if he opened up, she'd find out everything was fake.
The warmth he showed, the charming smile.
What would someone feel when they realize the person they have a geniune relationship with is never really reciprocated them instead faked everything.
Weather they overwhelmed with saddness?
Feel humilated?
Feel enraged?
Whatever it is Adyanth never wanted to findout. Not now or ever.
So he did what he always did.
He lied.
"I miss them every single day, Luna," he said, his voice dipped in just enough sadness, his eyes glazed with vulnerability.
And it worked.
---
Luna reached for his palm gently, her fingers threading over his in soft warmth. Her other hand stayed planted on the steering wheel.
The gesture made Adyanth uncomfortable.
Not because it was unwelcome.
Because it felt good.
And he couldn't feel good.
It was like eating his favorite cursed cafeteria food that tasted amazing—yet never landed in his heart.
Just another torture.
So he distracted her.
He chuckled.
"Well, maybe focus on the gear instead of holding hands. There's a pothole coming up that's practically a crater."
---
Luna huffed, offended.
'Why am I even worried about this jerk?' she thought, letting go of his hand and muttering under her breath.
"Jerk face."
Adyanth heard it.
Didn't react.
He had bigger issues—like not passing out in the passenger seat from psychic burnout.
---
"I'm gonna get some shut-eye, if you don't mind," he said, his voice even never potrayed a bit of his internal struggle.
Luna responded with practiced sarcasm.
"Of course I don't. Why would I? After all, you've spent the whole morning touring vacant fields instead of getting ready on time. Go ahead, take your beauty nap, Your Highness. I'll get you to Purathal safe and sound."
Adyanth didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
He shamelessly closed his eyes like a sleeping prince in a cursed fairy tale.
---
Except he wasn't sleeping.
He was surviving.
First, he slowed his breathing and performed his breathing technique, the technique that always worked—the one that sent refreshing waves through his system like internal rain even for just a moment.
It took a few minutes.
But finally, his senses calmed.
Fatigue unraveled quietly.
Then he turned inward.
Started analyzing.
One sense at a time.
---
Hearing: sharp.
He could hear footsteps. Voices. Engine vibrations. A bird changing direction three meters away.
Smell: invasive.
He picked up Luna's perfume composition, the subtle burn of gasoline, even the metallic scent of the steering column.
Touch: intense.
He could feel changes in air pressure centimeters above his skin. Drafts. Tension. The softness of the seat even where his back didn't quite touch it.
Sight: lethal.
He saw beyond trees. Past the bend in the road. Objects dozens of meters away shimmered in perfect clarity.
Near vision? Unshaken.
---
Then came the idea.
'What if I processed all these inputs and turned them into a mental map?'
'Like a visualization.'
He would build a model of his surroundings—not by seeing, but by feeling.
Each sense feeding the image.
Sight, sound, smell, touch—all braided together.
A 360-degree awareness.
---
Another idea joined it.
Can I use my enhanced senses to feel the energy veins in my body again?
That strange blue light—ethereal but real—he had glimpsed during training.
Could he trace it now?
Sense its flow?
Guide it?
---
Two goals emerged in his mind, clean and simple.
1. Master visualization from raw sensory input
2. Use those senses to guide energy seamlessly
And maybe someday...
Control that energy without needing to breathe like a yoga instructor.
He still didn't know what the purpose of training at all.
If he is normal like everyone else, he would atleast feel the excitement from training and getting stronger. For him feeling excitement is far above his reach. He would be fine with satisfaction that too not in his reach.
He didn't train for greatness, excitement or for a satisfaction.
He just trained because something inside him demanded it.
A voice without words.
A storm that didn't ask for permission.
---
While Adyanth stuck in his own private private world, Luna focused on the road.
And something else.
Herself.
---
If Adyanth was seen by his villagers as cursed for being born at the same week the war began—Luna could've made them dizzy with rumor.
Her mother died after giving birth to her.
It was her father raised her and her sister—June—with quiet hands and too many apologies. He worked, laughed weakly when prompted, and held on for years until five years ago, he died of in a mysterious circumstances.
After that it was June who shoulders everything.
She is Luna's guardian, sister, manager and shield.
She smiled through the grief. Held Luna together. Covered the cracks.
To others, June was sharp as broken glass.
To Luna?
A teasing sister with callused hands and tired eyes.
---
June had worked for the government just like their father in Neyrithar—the gleaming capital of Varasthan. War hadn't touched the skyline there.
Luna's weekends sparkled with outings, chaotic coffee shops, and spontaneous laughter.
Then, two years ago—
June resigned her government job.
All she said was "Its too much."
And moved to Purathal.
To Open a restaurant with her two friends: Amelia and Sam. Who Luna never knew.
Luna didn't like it but also didn't ask why. She love june too much for strugguling her with questions. So she just followed June to Purathal.
Ever since then her world turned upside down.
---
Purathal was nothing like Neyrithar.
There is no skyscrapers, no metro rails.
Just rusted industrial zone and buildings soaked in nostalgia, guilt and regret.
Abviously there is no schools either.
June arranged her a home-schooling—it was efficient, quiet and suffocatingly isolated.
Luna didn't complain.
She didn't want to trouble her sister.
But she hated it.
Everything about it.
She missed chaos of the metropolitan city. She missed her friends, most of all she missed feeling part of something unplanned.
Then came the orphanage.
It popped up in the news recently. Purathal state media had feast with it.
It spoke about serious injuries the Orphan suffered and about strange conditions.
June mentioned it offhandedly one morning between ladling soup and checking the storage inventory that she was planning to volunteer there.
Luna had jumped on the opportunity like a lifeline.
She begged June, argued with her.
Threw a proper tantrum—which, for her, was practically a national event.
Eventually June gave in with a tired sigh.
And so Luna went.
Expecting a much needed distraction.
Hoping for meaning.
What she found instead was ruin.
---
The orphanage was bleak.
All the children were injured. Their eyes were hollow as they are dead. Staff members just shy of collapse.
The atmosphere felt like grief mixed with rust.
Luna had regretted coming almost instantly.
Until—
She saw him.
---
Adyanth wasn't glowing.
He didn't walk with divine light.
He sat quietly, barely shifting as the world moved around him.
His injury matched the rest. His dislocated shoulder was painfully visible and unmissable.
But his demeanor?
That was different.
Where other kids flinched of pain and dispair, Adyanth was relaxed.
Where they cried, he smiled.
Not the kind of smile that begged for attention.
The kind that settled on his face like it had nowhere else to be. Like he content with himself.
It was warm.
Unbothered.
And almost... annoying.
Of course, he didn't feel despair—he was the one who caused it.
Not that Luna knew that yet.
She just knew he looked good doing it.
Too good.
If someone told her he was an undercover model doing charity work for a dramatic screenplay, she'd believe it without blinking.
She liked him.
Instantly.
It was silly but it was as strong as it was real.
---
She approached him casually.
Joked a little.
Teased him a bit.
He resisted at first. She could feel it. That slight reluctance. The hesitation.
But then he warmed up.
At least, she thought he did.
Every time he smiled shyly at her, her stomach twisted in a cocktail of butterflies and borderline nausea.
She thought he felt the same.
He didn't.
He was just really good at faking it.
But she didn't know that.
---
When he was preparing to leave the orphanage, Luna had asked June a bold question:
"Can Adyanth work at the restaurant?"
She expected hesitation and an intense grilling over his qualifications and temperament.
June had blinked once.
Then said, simply:
"If it's Adyanth, I don't mind."
And that made Luna happier than she wanted to admit.
Even her sister recognized it.
His coolness. His value. His presence.
She never expected June—practical, guarded and stern—to agree so easily.
---
Even now, when he spoke about his parents, when he let her peek behind the curtain, she felt something shift.
It was warmth.
It was hope.
And it was dangerous.
Because she wanted it to mean something.
She wanted it to be hers, only hers.
---
She faked annoyance. Rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. Called him jerk-face under her breath.
But inside?
She was unraveling.
She wanted him next to her always.
She wanted to make him smile and smile with him always.
She wanted him to be hers—even if he didn't know it yet.
Even if she didn't know what that truly meant.
---
Adyanth, meanwhile, sat with his eyes closed.
Visualizing.
Practicing.
Planning.
Faking.
Surviving.
---
And Luna kept driving.
Unaware that everything she loved about him
was a beautifully rehearsed lie.