Chapter 2: A Sister’s Promise and a List of Fears

Yes, I transmigrated before I was even born.

After eating some poisonous mushrooms and dying in the modern world, I found myself inside a book.

The kind of book that my cousin Neha would binge-read, telling me, 'Didi, just one more chapter, promise!' Only, this time, I was inside the story, not outside looking in.

According to the plot, as the male lead’s sister, I was spoiled and willful, totally disgusted by my autistic brother, constantly humiliating and beating him when no one was around. When I grew up, I deliberately bullied the female lead and eventually got sent abroad by my brother himself. Cause of death: unknown.

In short, I didn’t survive.

Hai Ram.

I finally got another shot at life, just to die even more miserably?

No way. I think I can still save myself.

The Insta comments seemed to finally catch up:

[What’s the sister plotting now?]

[She just doesn’t want to show her true colours in front of Mummy!]

[Just wait until she’s alone with the male lead, then you’ll see how bad she is!]

I ignored the barrage and walked over to Kabir. Mum seemed a bit worried, glanced at Kabir, and said to me, “Riya, your brother is a little shy with strangers. Since you just got back, go rest for now.”

Mum’s dupatta slipped off her shoulder as she fussed, and she quickly tucked it back, her bangles clinking—a nervous habit whenever things got tense at home.

Hearing that, I looked again at my brother, who unconsciously took a step back as I approached, and nodded, “Okay.”

His feet shuffled, and for a second I caught a faint whiff of coconut oil from his hair, familiar and oddly comforting.

Honestly, I didn’t plan to suck up to Kabir. As long as I kept my distance and didn’t bully him, I should be able to dodge the original tragic ending.

With that in mind, I happily went back to my room.

The paint on my door was chipped at the edges, and I ran my fingers along the wood, thinking of the room as my new fortress. The mattress creaked as I sat, a faint whiff of naphthalene and old books rising up, mixing with the distant sound of an auto’s horn.

I didn’t notice that behind me, the boy stared in my direction for a long time before finally lowering his gaze in disappointment.

In the silence of the hallway, even the ticking of the wall clock felt a bit louder, his lonely shadow stretching behind him.