The Rathore house stirred awake with the soft chirping of birds and the distant rumble of a milkman’s motorbike. Sunlight crept through sheer curtains, painting golden stripes across the marble floor. But amidst the morning calm, a tiny storm had already taken over the living room.
“I flyyy now!” Ivaan shouted, standing precariously atop the center table with a red towel knotted tightly around his neck like a cape. His teddy bear was tucked under one arm, apparently the sidekick. “Mummaaa! See! I iz Super Pinguuuu!”
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