The Quiet Balcony

The laughter below rang bright and hollow, bouncing off marble columns like it belonged to another world. Auren Veyr stood alone on the high balcony of the Veyr estate's grand hall, hands resting on the stone railings, cold wind brushing his cloak.

The party was for his brother, The heir.

Below, nobles danced beneath glass chandeliers shaped like weeping willows. Music swirled like perfume, heavy and artificial. Gold shimmered on cuffs and collars, voices bloomed with staged affection. And there, in the center, stood Valtan Veyr—tall, charming, laughing as if the world itself had chosen him.

Auren watched without blinking.

The music didn't move him. The faces didn't touch him. He felt like glass among steel—present, but never counted.

"You always pick the same spot," said a voice behind him. Smoky, amused.

Auren didn't turn.

"Because it always gives me the same view," he said.

The Wazir emerged from the shadows like he'd stepped out of a curtain only he could see. Robes stitched with symbols too old to be fashionable, a crooked staff, and a grin that knew too much.

"Still watching them," the Wazir murmured, leaning beside Auren. "Still wondering what they feel."

"Wondering ? I care what they feel?," Auren said flatly. "I don't. I am just noticing how they lie about everything beneath their golden teeths."

"Same thing, if you're honest about it." The Wazir chuckled. "Curiosity's just quiet hunger."

Auren said nothing. He didn't need to. The Wazir filled silence like fog—soft, unsettling, impossible to hold.

Below, Valtan bowed dramatically, hand over heart. Applause erupted. The Marquis raised a goblet from the dais, pride etched into his silence.

"Your brother shines," the Wazir said mildly.

"He's meant to."

"Mm. And you? Were you made to follow his light, or to make him vanish in your shadow?"

Auren turned slightly, eyes narrow. "Why do you talk like that?"

The Wazir smiled, almost kindly. "Because the straightforward truth rarely leaves the right scar."

A cheer rose from the hall as Valtan toasted. Somewhere, a woman swooned too visibly. The crowd laughed.

"He fits them," Auren said. "I don't."

"You don't?" the Wazir curiously. "I wonder about that."

Auren blinked.

"You're quieter than last time," the Wazir said, adjusting his sleeve.

Auren frowned. "Last time?"

The Wazir gave a small shrug.

He turned and walked off, as if the conversation had ended itself.

Auren stayed where he was, listening to the wind pick through the leaves. The silence didn't feel dramatic or heavy.

Just quiet.

And that was enough.