A Visit Full of Questions

"Who the hell is that?" Raihan barked.

He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and strode out of the bathroom to answer the call.

"Hey, Mom, you can't possibly be serious."

"What in the world are you doing at my hostel?"

Raihan's voice carried faintly from the bathroom as he spoke on the phone, his tone laced with astonishment and disbelief.

"What if I had gone out?" Raihan exclaimed.

"You should have at least called me before showing up here," he said, exasperation evident in his tone.

I hastily finished my shower and made my way back to the room to slip into something more presentable.

I made my way into the living room and immediately noticed two distinguished figures stepping into the apartment.

His parents, I surmised.

No sooner had they crossed the threshold than Raihan’s mother subtly wrinkled her nose, as though an unpleasant odor had offended her senses.

“Good heavens,” she muttered, surveying the apartment. “What on earth is that smell permeating this place?”

“I sincerely hope you’re not living on burnt food and culinary disasters,” she remarked dryly.

“Who is that young man over there?” his father inquired, his penetrating gaze settling on me from across the room.

I composing myself, strode forward and greeted them with due respect.

“Good morning,” I said, inclining my head politely.

Raihan’s mother cleared her throat, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping over me with undisguised curiosity.

“And who, exactly, might this be?” she asked, arching a brow.

Before I could formulate a response, her attention shifted toward Raihan.

“More importantly, what is he doing here?”

“He’s my roommate,” Raihan replied evenly, seemingly unbothered by the interrogation.

“Oh…”

A trace of astonishment flickered across his mother’s features.

“I wasn’t aware you had a roommate,” she remarked, her discerning gaze meticulously examining my face.

“And what might your name be, young man?” his father inquired, his piercing stare settling unwaveringly on me.

I straightened instinctively.

“I’m Lucas Miller, sir.”

The moment my surname left my lips, an unmistakable shift swept across his father’s expression.

His posture rigidified.

The color subtly drained from his face, and for the briefest of moments, he appeared genuinely unsettled.

It was as though I had uttered the name of someone long buried in the past.

“Miller…” he repeated slowly, the word lingering heavily in the air.

A peculiar look crossed his features before he discreetly cleared his throat.

“That surname sounds extraordinarily familiar,” he said, though the unease lurking beneath his composed exterior was impossible to miss.

"Dad?" Raihan called out, his brows furrowing in concern. 

Noticing the unusual change in his father's demeanor, he took a step forward.

"Are you feeling alright?" he inquired, scrutinizing him with growing unease.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

A wave of unease settled over me as a torrent of questions began to spiral in my mind.

Does he know my father?

Why did he react as though he had just heard the name of a ghost?

Does he recognize my father’s name?

Why did his entire demeanor shift the moment I introduced myself?

"Are your parents still alive?" Raihan’s father asked, the question coming out unusually measured, almost suspicious.

I cast him a deeply suspicious glance, my expression tightening almost instinctively.

"No… I lost them both in a tragic accident," I said quietly, my voice barely steady.

"Oh… I am truly, deeply sorry to hear that," Raihan’s mother responded at once, her tone softening with palpable sympathy.

"Thank you, ma’am," I murmured, forcing composure into my voice.

Raihan's father, however, remained unnervingly composed—almost too composed—his expression unreadable, as though my words had stirred something far more complex beneath the surface.

Cough-cough……

He cleared his throat deliberately, breaking the brief silence.

"I would be most delighted to have you visit my residence at some point," he stated with calm authority, his tone measured yet oddly heavy with implication.

"Alright, sir," I replied cautiously, still unsettled by the strange shift in the atmosphere.

What kind of question is that? I mumbled to myself.

It felt less like casual conversation and more like an interrogation disguised in politeness.

Is he trying to confirm something… something I don’t even know myself?

I forced myself to stay calm, even though my thoughts were spiraling.

"I brought you some freshly prepared homemade food—the kind your nanny cooks for you," his mother said breaking the silences.

"I know you miss it… don’t you?

Raihan raked a hand through his hair,making him look even cuter.

"Mom, you shouldn’t have done this."

A faint tension crossed his expression.

"I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult now—I can handle things on my own."

“I know, son, but I only want you to remain in good health,” she said softly, her tone carrying genuine concern.

“Have you heard from Liam?” Raihan’s mother asked, watching him closely.Raihan responded by coughing lightly, as if to cut her off.

“We won’t be staying for long,” Raihan’s father stated, his tone firm yet composed. “I have a business engagement this afternoon.”

His gaze briefly swept across the apartment, assessing the space with quiet scrutiny.

"Son, do make certain you come home for the summer," Raihan mother said, her expression softening.

"I've genuinely missed having you around,she added.

Raihan's father was the first to make his way towards the doorway, offering little more than a curt nod in place of a proper goodbye.

I Love you, son,” Raihan’s mother said tenderly before disappearing through the doorway.

And in the span of a few fleeting moments, they were gone leaving behind an unsettling silence.

I collapsed onto the couch, dragging a hand across my face as a torrent of unanswered questions inundated my thoughts.

The inexplicable reaction to my surname.

The oddly intrusive questions.

The unmistakable glimmer of recognition that had surfaced in Raihan’s father’s eyes.