Monday Madness

Myra, a renowned fashion designer, was living her dream life in Milan, Italy. As the owner of Rosj, a high-end clothing brand, her days were always full—just how she liked them. Monday mornings were no exception. She started her routine early: a refreshing workout, a quick shower, then dressing up in sleek, signature style before heading to her studio.

At Rosj Headquarters

“Good morning, Myra,” said Rhea, her assistant, walking briskly beside her.

“Morning, Rhea. How’s everything going?” Myra replied, adjusting the files in her hand.

Rhea hesitated for a second. “Hmm… actually, we’re running into a bit of a problem. The fabric we ordered—that exquisite one—still hasn’t arrived. Production’s getting delayed.”

Myra stopped in her tracks. “You mean the fabric for the new couture line?”

Rhea nodded, nervous. “Yeah. That one.”

Myra’s tone shifted, calm but commanding. “I want everyone involved in that garment design in my office. Five minutes.”

Rhea quickly scurried off to gather the team.

Five Minutes Later – Myra’s Office

Myra stood at the head of the room, arms crossed. “Can someone explain exactly what the issue is?”

The team leader spoke up, throwing a glance toward a girl standing quietly in the back. “It was her. The newbie. She messed up the logistics. Honestly, I don't even know why she was hired.”

The girl’s voice trembled as she stepped forward. “I—I’m sorry, ma’am. There was a miscommunication between the fabric supplier and the transport team. But it’s been resolved.”

The team leader cut in sharply, “Resolved because I stepped in and fixed it. If I hadn’t—”

Myra raised her hand, silencing him.

“I appreciate that it’s handled now. Let’s focus forward. I expect all final designs on my desk by Friday—no exceptions.” Her eyes moved to the girl. “And one more thing. Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ Here, everyone is treated equally. No ‘sirs’ or ‘madams.’ Just mutual respect. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and began filing out—except the team leader.

Still in Myra’s Office

Myra turned to him, her tone ice-cold.

“You don’t decide who gets hired. That’s my job. And I’ve seen her work—she’s talented. She just needs confidence, something that doesn’t grow under insults. Don’t ever question someone’s worth in my office again. Clear?”

The team leader swallowed hard. “Y-yes, Myra.”

Just then, Myra’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and answered.

On the Phone

“Have you considered the offer I made?” came the voice on the other end.

“Offer?” Myra scoffed. “That was more of a threat.”

“Call it what you want,” the voice said coolly. “But I meant what I said. Think carefully.”

Myra sighed. “Oh my matashree, please have mercy on your daughter.”

“There's no mercy needed!” her mother, Isabela, snapped. “For four years, I’ve waited for you to return to India. Do you even know how much I miss you? If you don’t come back soon, I swear I’ll stop taking my medications.”

Myra’s face softened, torn between guilt and exasperation. “Mumma, don’t do this. Work’s crazy right now. I will come, just… not this year.”

“Do as you wish,” her mom huffed—and hung up.

Myra stared at the phone, then flopped back in her chair. “Ufff… my mom. So dramatic.”

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