Cracks at the Dinner Table

The dining table was set simply: steaming dal, fresh chapatis (Chapati – a type of Indian flatbread, soft and round, often served warm with meals), and a plate of cut fruits. The faint scent of sugar and bread from the bakery downstairs still lingered in the air.
Neil sat politely, hands folded in his lap. Aarav dropped into his chair across from him, dragging his phone along like a second limb. His mom moved between the kitchen and table, apron still on, exhaustion visible in the slope of her shoulders.
She placed a bowl near Aarav.“Eat properly, Aaru. You’ve been skipping meals again.”
Aarav barely glanced up, scrolling. “I’ll eat.”
Neil reached for a chapati, neatly tearing a piece. Aarav’s mom smiled faintly.“See, look at Neil. He’s so well-mannered. Even after school and helping at home, he still manages to keep himself disciplined.”
Aarav’s hand froze mid-scroll. His jaw tightened.
Neil quickly looked down, awkward. “Auntie, it’s nothing—”
But his mom continued, her tone more worried than harsh.“I just don’t understand, Aaru. You used to be so bright. Always first in class, so responsible. Now… you don’t even try. Even Neil, who’s younger, seems more focused than you.”
Aarav slammed his phone face-down on the table.“Enough!”
The word cracked through the room like glass breaking. Neil flinched. His mom stood still, stunned by his outburst.
Aarav’s eyes burned, voice shaking between anger and hurt.“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t realize I’m wasting my life? Stop comparing me! I’m not Neil! I’m not… the person I used to be! Just… leave me alone!”
Before anyone could respond, he pushed back his chair with a screech and stormed off. The door to his room slammed shut upstairs.
Silence. Only the faint clinking of utensils in the still air.
Neil’s eyes darted toward the stairs, then back to his plate. He didn’t know what to say.
Aarav’s mom sank into her chair slowly, pressing her hands against her forehead. For a moment, her strong front cracked.
(Thoughts):He hates me… doesn’t he? No… no, I know he doesn’t. He’s hurting. He’s been hurting for so long, and I don’t know how to reach him anymore. Back then, when he was a little boy, he’d show me his medals, his drawings, his chess moves. Now, all I see is his back turned toward me.
Her hands trembled slightly. She thought of the bakery downstairs, the endless hours kneading dough, greeting customers, forcing a smile even when she was tired. Thought of her husband, always away on work trips, missing dinners more often than not.
(Thoughts):I try so hard. To keep this family running, to make sure he’s fed, clothed, safe. But I don’t have the time… or maybe the right words. Maybe he thinks I don’t care. Maybe he thinks I’m just angry. But I’m not. I’m scared. Scared he’s slipping away from me.
She let out a quiet sigh, her voice softer now.“Sorry, Neil. He’s… always like this these days.”
Neil put down his chapati, giving her a small, gentle smile.“It’s okay, Auntie. Really.”
She looked at him, guilt flickering in her eyes, then nodded faintly and stood, heading toward the sink. Neil stayed quiet, respectful, not pushing further.
[Scene – Aarav’s Room]
The lights were dim. Aarav lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone lay abandoned at his side, notifications buzzing faintly.
His thoughts ran heavy, looping endlessly.“…Why am I like this? Why can’t I just… be normal again?”
He turned on his side, pulling the blanket over his head. The laughter from earlier in the day, the warmth of the small jokes with Neil—it all felt distant now, drowned out by the weight pressing on his chest.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.