Rain pattered lightly on the dusty lane outside Malhotra Villa, but inside tensions boiled over. The grand drawing room buzzed with agitated voices—Bhushan's family had been waiting thirty minutes, their expressions increasingly sour between syrupy compliments. A row of uncles hovered near the buffet, eating nervously. At the far end, Arohi's mother orchestrated apologies, face pinched with worry, while a choir of lehenga-clad aunties kept glancing at the vacant stairwell.
Upstairs: Choices and ChangesArohi stood at her window, breathing in the petrichor and faint city scent. Her phone vibrated: it was Mini, reporting chaos from the kitchen.
Mini (text): "They've called the priest again! Bhushan's aunt is threatening to call off the match. Where ARE you?"
Arohi sipped her coffee, rolling her shoulders. Muscles felt supple—a hint of power thrummed, likely thanks to System-activated self-defense skills. For a moment, she stretched in front of the mirror, nodding at the unfamiliar abs. A thrill of anticipation ran through her; she wasn't just a pawn anymore.
She turned to her travel duffle, half-packed: credit card, a change of clothes, the coffee pod machine (wrapped in a hoodie), and—still tucked in tissue—an envelope with cash from her very first sign-in. Her fingers slid over another reward: a sleek sunglasses case stamped with a designer logo, all cool edges and subtle power.
Arohi (to herself): "Not every day you upgrade from family baggage to designer sunglasses and freedom."
She grabbed the duffle, filled her thermal mug with one last pour, and slung her bag over a shoulder.
Downstairs: The Crowd ReactsAcross the foyer, the families stood in tense clumps.
Bhushan's Mother (to Arohi's mother): "Maybe it's an upset stomach. Daughters today have no discipline."
Pushpa Mami (stage-whispering): "Maybe she's run away? She wouldn't dare, na?"
Amit, acting as family bodyguard, emerged at the base of the staircase, shoulders squared. Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the top creaked open—Arohi, calm and surprisingly glamorous in jeans and a bright yellow kurti, descended, coffee in hand, sunglasses perched in her hair.
The chatter stilled for a heartbeat as dozens of eyes turned.
Savita Chachi (indignant): "Where do you think you're going, like this? The entire Malhotra family—"
Arohi (sweetly): "Out. For a breather. You should try it, Chachi, it's refreshing."
Bhushan's Uncle (scandalized): "On the day of your roka?!"
Arohi ignored the gasps, weaving toward the ornate door. Amit stepped forward, trying to intercept her with all the authority an elder cousin could muster.
Amit (trying to sound threatening): "You can't just walk out in front of everyone! What are we supposed to tell them?"
Arohi grinned, popping the sunglasses over her eyes.
Arohi: "Tell them the modern world has traffic and appointments. I'll send sweets. Keep the relatives entertained!"
No one moved. She was nearly at the door when Bhushan himself appeared near the archway, puffed up with indignation and embarrassment.
Bhushan: "At least meet my family with respect, Arohi. You can't just keep running from your responsibilities!"
Arohi paused, sizing him up as if recalling a name only from last night's drama coverage.
Arohi: "You're right—let's be responsible. Here's my responsibility today—I'm not interested in melodrama or getting married to someone who brings more drama than a daily soap. Have a nice lunch!"
Behind her, Shruti appeared—out of breath, grinning, holding a bus ticket and signaling to Arohi. They shared a conspiratorial wink and a quick hug.
Shruti: "The gateway's clear. Let's make it count!"
With an elegant stride, Arohi walked through the stunned crowd. As security opened the doors, a few scattered raindrops hit her cheeks like a blessing.
Pushpa Mami (half-shouting): "You'll regret this, Arohi! No one leaves family like this!"
Without breaking pace, Arohi threw a final parting shot over her shoulder:
Arohi (cheerful): "Regret is for people who never left the house. Bye, Pushpa Mami."
The EscapeThe moment she stepped past the gate, the world shifted—her phone pinged again: [Sign-In Reward: Travel expense card credited. Plus—bonus: Raincoat, just your style.] She smiled, sliding the hooded raincoat on.
Arohi (teasing to Shruti): "Next stop: first vada pav where no one knows my surname!"
The city opened up with noise, heat, and the possibility of freedom. The gatekeeper, an elderly uncle, gave her one last, approving nod.
Gatekeeper (quietly): "Live well, beta."
As Arohi and Shruti melted into the Mumbai morning, the storm behind them was only beginning—but Arohi felt lighter, stronger, and ready for whatever her new life (and her daily system) had in store.