Chapter 4: The List That Changed Everything

The boy’s handwriting was neat and delicate, just like his clear, earnest eyes.

It reminded me of the old exercise books Dadi would keep wrapped in newspaper, pages yellowed and corners soft from use.

The Insta comments instantly swept across my vision:

[Wuwuwu, the male lead is such a good boy! Aunty wants to give him a kiss!]

[But why is he so nice to the supporting female character? She’s obviously up to something. Now that no one’s around, she’ll probably mock him.]

[But honestly, the sister’s attitude didn’t really feel like that kind of person…]

[Upstairs, you’re sentenced to reread the book a hundred times!]

My phone buzzed in the background—a missed call from Neha, maybe, or just more Instagram notifications piling up.

The comments started arguing, flashing so much my eyes hurt. I couldn’t help but frown.

It was like watching a family debate over who made the better biryani—loud, confusing, and never-ending.

Kabir couldn’t see the comments, but when he saw my frown, he got flustered. His fingers tightened on the notebook until his knuckles turned white. After a moment, he lowered his eyes, let his hand fall limply, and hugged the notebook to his chest, preparing to silently turn and leave.

He turned to go, shoulders hunched, the shadow of his slippers stretching long and thin under the corridor light.

That thin figure seemed swallowed by the corridor’s darkness, half in light, half in shadow.

A lone mosquito buzzed past, unnoticed by both of us.

But he’d only taken a couple steps before stopping—

Because I grabbed his sleeve.

The fabric felt warm and a little worn, like something that had been washed a hundred times.

Kabir looked back, unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

His lips parted, maybe to say something, but no words came.

I pressed my lips together.

Truth be told, before transmigrating, I was an only child—no siblings, no experience being a sister.

Originally, I thought we’d just mind our own business, but—

Who could resist such a sweet, well-behaved little brother?

Even my heart, so used to fending for itself, softened a little.

I smiled, eyes curving, and started listing dishes: “I like aloo tikki, butter paneer, palak corn, bhindi fry, dal makhani, crispy chilli potato…”

I watched his eyes widen with each name, like he was hearing a tongue-twister. I slowed down, drawing out the names like a teacher dictating spelling words in class.

A string of dish names tumbled out. The boy, already a little dazed, looked even more blank, but still managed to pick up his pen and start writing, as serious as if he were taking a board exam.

I grinned, “You’re writing this down like you’re prepping for board exams, bhaiya!”

His handwriting was fast but steady, like he didn’t want to miss a single word. For a moment, the air between us felt lighter.

[Wait, the supporting character is really listing them! Why is this so funny, hahaha!]

[Male lead: Didi, slow down, my pen’s about to catch fire!]

[Haha, he’s totally stunned.]

[Isn’t this just another way to bully the male lead, making him keep up?]

I snorted softly, biting back a laugh, and Kabir glanced up with confusion, unsure if he’d done something wrong.