Neel folds his arms. “This is why you must listen to me.”
“You’re seven.”
“Yes. And yet I am clearly the expert.” I huff out a quiet laugh and take apart the section I just built.
It’s been a week since I moved into this house.
Seven days. Seven mornings waking up to the faint sounds of the shop downstairs opening. Seven dinners at the small table in the kitchen. Seven nights lying on one side of the bed while Divya lies on the other, both of us pretending that the situation isn’t strange.
And somewhere in the middle of those days, the unfamiliar has quietly turned into something comfortable. Today is Sunday and somewhere in the back of my mind I had been looking forward to it.
Not for any particular reason. Just… time. Time to sit with Divya without rushing off to work. Time to talk. Time to understand her a little better.
But apparently fate—or Divya herself—had other plans. She left early this morning to pick up raw materials for the shop. Which means I’ve been promoted to babysitting duty.
Neel snaps another Lego piece into place with satisfaction.
“There.” He leans back and studies our half-built spaceship. “Better.” I glance toward the door without thinking wondering when she will be back.
I look back at him. “So,” I say casually, picking up another piece, “does your sister always work on Sundays?”
Neel shrugs. “Sometimes.”
He’s busy connecting two blue blocks. “She says customers like Sundays.”
“That sounds like something she would say.”
“She likes working,” he adds matter-of-factly. I glance at him.
“Does she?”
“Yes.” He pushes the structure toward me so I can attach the next piece. “She says work means we can stay in our house.”
Something tightens quietly in my chest. I nod slowly.
“That makes sense.” For a moment the only sound between us is the soft click of plastic pieces snapping together.
Then I try again.
“What does she do when she’s not working?”
Neel squints suspiciously. “Why?”
I try to sound casual.
“I’m curious.”
“About my sister?”
“Yes.” He studies me for a long moment like a tiny detective evaluating a suspect.
Then he shrugs. “She likes reading.”
My eyebrows lift slightly. “That I know.”
He narrows his eyes at me, "How?"
"I met her at a bookstore." I smile and he hums in approval.
