The next morning dawned muggy and bright, but Arohi felt a fizzing anticipation instead of dread. After a night of raindrops on hostel glass (courtesy of the system's travel voucher, they'd checked into a cozy bandra guesthouse), the world felt wide with promise.
She stretched in bed, marvelling at how her core engaged—abs already more defined than yesterday. Shruti lay sprawled under a paisley sheet, still snoring softly.
A gentle mental chime:
**[Sign-In Reward Activated: Private Martial Arts Lesson at 'Silvershade Dojo.' Car pickup in 45min. Outfit, snacks, and hydration supplied.]**
Arohi rolled her eyes in delight. Only her system could think to include energy bars and branded track pants.
She nudged Shruti awake.
Arohi (grinning): "Rise and shine, rebel. Time to learn some actual moves—no more tripping over aunties."
Shruti (rubbing her eyes): "We're not actually… fighting anyone, right?"
Arohi: "Not unless Bhushan stalks us here. Come on, trust me—it'll be fun."
A glossy silver car (outfitted with fresh lemon water bottles and a driver who didn't ask questions) whisked them away. The city slipped past: grey buildings, graffiti, mopeds and laughing kids chasing each other on muddy playgrounds.
Inside, Arohi played with her "Street Photography" skill, snapping Shruti mid-laugh, then some old men playing chess at the corner.
At the dojo, sunlight pooled over wooden floors. Their instructor—tall, calm, tattooed—smiled at them with professional respect.
Instructor: "Welcome! I hear you want to learn to defend yourself. That's the right attitude."
They began with stretches, then punches. Arohi's body seemed to remember everything instantly, responding faster than Shruti's, stronger than she was used to.
The instructor noticed.
Instructor (curious): "You pick up fast."
Arohi: "Maybe I watched too much Bollywood action as a kid."
They practiced takedowns, rolls, blocking. Shruti stumbled at first but laughed it off, cheered by Arohi's playful encouragement.
Arohi (coaching): "Come on, you survived our family's ritual sari wars. This is nothing."
Soon enough, both were panting, but smiling. Arohi felt not only strong but charged with a new kind of certainty—a readiness. She could walk anywhere and not shrink.
Meanwhile, back at the Villa
A storm brewed inside Malhotra Villa. The relatives huddled at the dining table, speculating.
Savita Chachi (pouring tea angrily): "We raised her better. It must be some outside influence—foreign films."
Kavita Bua: "Or… black magic. Maybe she's possessed!"
Amit scrolled his phone, frowning.
Amit: "She's probably just hiding with a friend. I'll check her Insta and see."
Mini snuck away to message Arohi updates:
Mini (text): "Bhushan was sulking all morning. Uncle is blaming auntie now. You're a legend. Stay safe, di—don't let them pull you back."
After class, Shruti and Arohi lounged on gym mats, hair frizzy with sweat, limbs loose and tired.
Shruti: "I thought martial arts was scary. Turns out I just needed good company."
Arohi: "And a bit of rebellion for breakfast."
Arohi's mind pinged, the system quietly awarding her a new wardrobe item—custom-fit leggings, a hoodie, and a sushi lunch box.
They ambled through a nearby park, city sounds blurring around them.
Arohi (reflective): "You ever notice how, when you finally step outside family expectations, the city feels… wider?"
Shruti: "Maybe you just needed brighter yellow, di. Look at you in that raincoat!"
A group of college girls glanced at Arohi, whispering. She smiled—she was starting to get noticed for her confidence, not scandal.
Arohi shot a sly look at Shruti.
Arohi: "Next adventure? Maybe yoga by the sea. Or we crash a fashion show and walk in track pants."
Shruti cackled, and the sound followed them into the bright, unpredictable afternoon. Free at last—for today, at least.