Sun was lowering across Noida's horizon, gilding the city's jungle of concrete and tubelights in soft gold. The singular luxury Sanya had in this new world? Her own company—well, that and her system's random gifts.
She found Rekha sitting on a swing in the park, legs crossed, munching on a samosa. Rekha was way more realistic than the average cousin, with short hair, mischievous eyes, and a sense for drama—not the sobbing kind, but the let's-laugh-about-it kind.
"Escape artist level: expert," Rekha grinned, looking at the lint-strewn Kurkure packet Sanya presented like treasure.
"Seriously, this is my sign-in reward. Next they'll give me a packet of Parle-G and call it a day."
Rekha snorted. "Better than being handed a rishta with Vicky the Human Gutka Machine."
They cackled. For the first time since waking up in this melodrama universe, Sanya felt normal. Almost.
Their gossip session was interrupted by a commotion at the park gate.
Vicky stormed in, followed by both mothers trailing clouds of complaint.
"Sanya! You ran out in front of the whole family. What will people say?" Mummyji was at dramatic-maximum.
Vicky puffed out his chest, undeterred by the playground crowd. "You keep running from shaadi, Sanya ji. But you won't get a better offer than this. Anyway, my contacts…"
He was interrupted by Sanya's raised hand. "Vicky, can we not do this here? I'd like to eat my Kurkure and enjoy this sunset without discussing my marriage market value."
Rekha piped up, "And I'd like some respect for my samosa, thank you."
The crowd snickered. Vicky scowled, threatened, "We'll see who laughs last," and stormed off, aunties in his wake.
Sanya caught Rekha's approving smirk. "Thanks for the backup."
"Anytime. Park squad sticks together."
Her system chimed as she walked home, the cheerful digital voice more friend than most relatives:
[Night sign-in bonus: Skill fragment received – 'Beginner Defensive Driving'. Learn during your first scooter ride.]
She side-eyed the glowing panel. "So long as I don't have to use this escaping from my own wedding."
Dinner chaos awaited her at home—argument over which uncle paid the milk bill and whispers about Sanya's "attitude." She tuned them out, slipped on her Chhota Bheem keychain, and thought,
"Let them keep plotting. I've got friends, snacks, and maybe even a skill or two. This serial might just get fun."
End of Chapter 3