The sun rose pale over the café, casting long shadows across upended chairs and shattered glass. Word of the break-in had already reached beyond the block. By 8 a.m., the first news van idled nearby, and reporters peered through the window, hungry for a quote. Arohi sipped her coffee with careful calm, camera-ready without ever meaning to be.
Police returned to take statements. Neighbors vouched for her composure, describing how Arohi had faced the intruders. The officers—this time less skeptical—took extra notes.
By midmorning, Meera scanned a local blog on her phone. "Look at this, Arohi," she said.
A headline flashed: **'Café Queen Fights Back — Local Spot Saved by Brave Owner and Team.'**
Customers trickled in, more curious than ever. Some offered flowers. One shy teenager brought a hand-drawn thank you card. Arohi nodded greetings but kept the day running, quietly inspecting all the locks, changing the alarm codes, and refusing to let the adrenaline show in her smile.
Around noon, two new visitors arrived: an officer in plainclothes and a woman in a crisp suit. They introduced themselves as part of the "local business protection initiative." Their tone was much warmer than in months past.
"We've organized a neighborhood watch for situations like these," the officer explained. "We'd like your help—maybe some self-defense classes for others, too?"
Arohi agreed, feeling strange pride at this new reputation. After the intruders, her authority had changed. She was not just a survivor of family drama or gala gossip, but someone the community trusted to act when it mattered.
But peace never lasted long.
That evening, Shruti found Arohi on the back steps, eyes narrowed at the setting sun.
"A visitor, Di. Says he's from the Malhotra family," Shruti said, voice uneasy.
Arohi rose, bracing herself.
In the small office, she found her cousin Bhushan—always their father's loyal shadow—waiting with a brittle smile.
"You're everywhere now. TV, blogs, police recaps. Our mother says you're embarrassing the family. Our uncle says you're becoming a liability. Why not give in and come home before things get uglier?" Bhushan asked, not unkindly, but with the hardness of someone sent as a messenger.
Arohi replied, voice even, "I'm not going to disappear or apologize just because they feel threatened. You didn't visit when I was struggling. You don't get to bargain now that I'm standing up."
Bhushan studied her—really looking—and realized she could not be bullied easily anymore. He handed her a business card and left, promise and threat unspoken.
As night fell, Arohi wrote:
"Strength isn't just muscle—it's saying no, even to the ones who taught you to be fearful. Tomorrow, we build again."
Her phone chimed:
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Public Leadership—Intermediate Unlocked. Negotiation +1. Family Resistance Encountered: Resolve Required for Next Reward.]
Smoke curled above the city, but in her café, hope simmered stronger than fear.