Monday Mornings

The street outside was still quiet. Only a few people were up—shopkeepers lifting shutters, a milkman ringing his cycle bell, stray dogs stretching in the cool air.
Neil jogged past them all. His sneakers tapped lightly on the road, steady and calm. By the time he reached home again, sweat ran down his forehead, but his breathing was smooth. He dropped to the floor for a few push-ups, stretched, then headed straight for the bathroom.
When he stepped out, he looked fresh—uniform crisp, hair still damp, and a light scent of cologne following him. He buttoned his cuff neatly before walking across the hall.
[Scene – Aarav’s Room]
The curtains were still drawn. The room smelled faintly of old chips and deodorant. Aarav was curled under the blanket like a hibernating bear.
Neil knocked softly. “Brother, it’s morning.”
A groan came from the blanket.“…No, it’s not.”
Neil stepped closer. “It is. You’ll be late.”
Aarav’s voice was muffled. “Five minutes. Just five.”
Neil stood there, thinking for a second. Then he said flatly:“If you don’t get up, I’ll spray perfume all over your blanket.”
Silence.
Then Aarav’s head popped out, hair wild in every direction. He squinted at Neil. “…You wouldn’t dare.”
Neil crossed his arms. “I would.”
They stared at each other like enemies in a western showdown. Finally, Aarav groaned, rolling out of bed like a sack falling from a truck.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Congratulations. You ruined the best dream of my life.”
Neil tilted his head. “What dream?”
Aarav rubbed his eyes. “I was winning the cricket world cup.”
Neil laughed. “Do you even know how cricket works?”
Aarav yawned. “…I was holding the cup. That’s all that matters.”
Neil shook his head, still smiling, as Aarav dragged himself into the bathroom.
[Scene – Getting Ready]
Fifteen minutes later, Aarav stepped out. His shirt was tucked in for once, hair wet but combed, tie hanging half-done. He looked almost like a normal student.
Neil grinned. “See? You look good when you actually try.”
Aarav frowned. “Don’t get used to it.”
[Scene – Breakfast Table]
The dining table was already set. Steam rose from a bowl of dal, and a stack of chapatis (Chapati – soft Indian flatbread, usually served warm) sat in the middle, wrapped in a cloth.
Neil sat down neatly. “Good morning, Auntie. Have a nice day.”
A faint smile appeared on her tired face. “Good morning, Neil.”
Aarav sat without a word, phone in hand, eyes on the screen. He didn’t even look up.
For a moment, the air went still. His mom glanced at him, lips pressed together, but said nothing. Neil kept quiet too, picking at his food carefully.
The only sound in the room was the soft clink of plates and spoons.