The lanes of the chawl buzzed with the chaos of evening—children chasing each other barefoot, vendors hawking the last of their wares, and the sharp clang of vessels from open windows. Gauri slipped through the narrow corridor to her family's one-room home, the fatigue of the day still heavy in her bones.
Inside, Gayatri sat cross-legged on the cot, her expression already hard as Gauri entered.
"You're late," Gayatri snapped, stretching out her palm without preamble. "Give me the money."
Gauri sighed, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a folded bundle of notes and placed it in her mother's hand. "This is half, Ma."
Gayatri's eyes narrowed. "Half? What am I supposed to do with this? Do you think the house runs on air? Your earnings are already meager, and now you give me half?"
Her voice rose with every word, drawing a curious glance from the neighbor peeking through the thin curtain that separated their homes.
Gauri straightened, her own eyes flashing. "Yes, Ma. Because the other half—I've put aside for Charvi's treatment."
For a heartbeat, the air in the room went still. Gayatri's grip tightened on the notes, her jaw clenching.
"You and that girl," Gayatri hissed, as though the name itself was a burden. "Always an excuse, always a reason why I must stretch myself thinner. Do you think you know better than me how to run this family?"
Gauri's lips trembled, but she forced herself to hold her ground. "No, Ma. But I know Charvi deserves a chance. And if that means saving every rupee I can, then that's what I'll do."
Gayatri turned away, muttering curses under her breath, her silhouette sharp against the flickering lantern light.
And in that dim little room of the chawl, Gauri's quiet defiance glowed brighter than the oil lamp, even as the weight of her mother's bitterness pressed down on her shoulders.
Before Gauri could retreat to her corner of the room, Adrija's voice sliced through the silence like a knife.
"There it is again," Adrija said, her tone sharp and dripping with disdain. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a mocking smirk tugging at her lips. "The same excuse every time. Charvi's treatment. You make it sound like you're the only one keeping this family alive. If you really wanted to, Gauri, you could give more. But no—you hoard money for your precious sister and leave the rest of us struggling."
Gauri's spine stiffened, her knuckles curling into fists at her side. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Charvi appeared from the adjoining space. Her slender frame looked even smaller beneath the oversized shawl draped around her shoulders, but her eyes blazed with quiet courage.
"Enough, Didi," Charvi said, stepping forward. Her voice trembled but did not break. "You work too, don't you, Adrija? Then why can't you contribute more to the house? Why must it always fall on Gauri?"
Adrija's eyes widened at the audacity, then narrowed into slits. She strode toward Charvi, her voice rising. "Shut up! You don't get to lecture me. You've done nothing but drain this family's money and sympathy since the day you were born!"
The words struck like a slap, but before Charvi could flinch, Gauri moved between them. Her eyes locked on Adrija's, her voice low but laced with steel.
"Not another word," Gauri warned. "Don't you dare raise your voice at Charvi again. I won't let you."
The room vibrated with the unspoken challenge. Adrija glared, lips twitching with the urge to retort, but something in Gauri's stance—protective, unyielding—made her pause. Gayatri muttered bitterly under her breath, clutching the money tighter, while Charvi's eyes shimmered with tears she refused to shed.
In that moment, the cramped chawl room felt like a battlefield, each breath heavy with anger, love, and the fragile bonds of blood threatening to break.
The silence that followed was short-lived. Gayatri, still seated on the cot, suddenly slapped her palm against her knee, her voice cutting through the charged air.
"Enough of this nonsense!" she barked, her glare fixed on Gauri. "How dare you speak to your elder sister like that? Adrija is right—you hide behind Charvi's illness every time. Always the same excuse. Always trying to make yourself look like some savior!"
Gauri's chest tightened as her mother's words hit, sharper than Adrija's insults had ever been. "Ma…" she whispered, her voice breaking, "you really think I do this for myself? Everything I earn, every rupee I save—it's for this family. For Charvi."
"Charvi, Charvi, Charvi!" Gayatri spat, rising to her feet, her face twisted with fury. "I'm sick of hearing that name on your lips. You think she's the only one who matters? What about the rest of us? What about your sister who actually understands her responsibility to this house?" She turned, resting a hand possessively on Adrija's arm. "At least Adrija doesn't hide money away like you."
Adrija smirked at Gauri, tilting her head slightly as if savoring the victory of being chosen.
Charvi's lips trembled, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Ma…" she whispered, her voice fragile. "Why do you hate us so much? What did we do wrong?"
But Gayatri didn't even look at her.
Gauri stepped closer to her younger sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and glaring at both her mother and Adrija. Her voice was low but carried an unshakable resolve.
"You can hate me all you want, Ma," Gauri said, her eyes glistening. "But don't you dare take it out on Charvi. She's my sister before anything else, and I'll protect her—even if it means standing against my own family."
The words hung in the cramped room like smoke, choking, heavy, impossible to ignore.