I know why you hesitate to get out of bed. 
Not because it is a Saturday. You like to sip your coffee listening to early morning birds even on preciously few off days. You weirdo!
You even bring me some breakfast in bed, while I twist and turn till the harsh sun comes piercing through our curtains. 

Today, you are shrinking into your blanket for a different reason. You will never tell in me. 

Heck, you will never confide in yourself. But, I sense your shame. It emerges on your face like that unwanted pimple. Then, of course, you are ashamed of the pimple as well. 

If I told anyone that you are guilty, helpless and ashamed about going to a mall, they might laugh at you. That would push you deeper in your shell. So, I stay quiet.
On Thursday, when your sister called to invite us, I knew what you were thinking. The boy turned one, how will he remember the party! He’d merely be irritated with strangers milling around his play things. 

If you had shared your thoughts with me, I would have said, “he is your nephew, Hemanth. Don’t be harsh.”

But, you stay silent. So, I do too.