That window was open every morning.
Ayan began noticing it after he received the third breakfast box from his next-door neighbor. The cream-colored curtain that fluttered gently with the morning breeze, and the sunlight falling softly along the wooden window frame—those little things made his once-dreary Monday mornings feel like there was finally something worth looking forward to.
He wasn't sure if the other person left it open to let in the breeze or if it just happened to be open every time they cooked. But for Ayan, it became a part of his morning—like a quiet reminder that he was somehow sharing his life with someone else… even if they hadn't exchanged a single word.
The sound of the kettle boiling, a faint fog gathering on the glass, the soft click of a toaster, and the gentle tear of a note being written—those things were probably nothing special to most people. But to Ayan, they held a kind of charm… something that made him feel like he belonged in someone else's world, too.
Every Monday morning, he would stand at his door, pick up the lunchbox, and glance over at that same window. If he was lucky, he might catch the glimpse of someone walking by—sometimes just a back in a plain T-shirt, sometimes a hand holding a cup of coffee… and sometimes, a faint silhouette standing quietly, as if watching him in return.
On the fifth Monday, Ayan finally wrote a short message on a note and tucked it into the empty lunchbox he was returning.
"Thank you for breakfast. It was really delicious :)"
He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to sign his name—but in the end, he didn't. A part of him wanted to keep this connection nameless a little while longer.
It wasn't because he feared losing what they had…
But because he still wasn't sure whether his heart was racing because of the rice balls—or the sound of coffee brewing from beyond the wall.
The following Monday morning, the window was still open.
But this time, a small note was clipped to the potted plant on the balcony:
"Always happy to :) If you liked it, I'll try making something sweet next week."
Ayan chuckled softly—for the first time in weeks.
And that's when he realized…
He was genuinely looking forward to Mondays now.