Chapter 1: Tamasha in Borivali

After the board exams, my daughter—who had once threatened to run away and drop out—became unexpectedly obedient, crying and pleading for a chance to repeat a year.

Her tears looked real, but the way she twisted the edge of her dupatta and sniffled, it was like watching a saas-bahu serial audition. In our cramped 2BHK in Borivali, her sobs bounced off the walls, the faint aroma of tadka drifting in from the neighbour’s kitchen. She knelt, but her knees barely touched the floor—more for effect than true surrender. The click of her phone camera was almost audible, as if she was performing for an invisible audience. I noticed her phone buzzing with WhatsApp notifications, and for a moment, I felt the whole mohalla was watching this drama unfold with me.

I sighed, just about ready to hand over the money. But then, it was as if the WhatsApp aunties had invaded my living room, their forwards scrolling in my mind: “This villain is so annoying...”

[In her previous life, he forced the heroine to break up with the hero, pressured her to study, and get into college. Even though she ended up with no worries about food or money, she still missed the one she loved most.]

[But luckily, the heroine was reborn. This time, pretending to give in is just to get money to elope with the hero.]

[Wah, our beti is so daring! 💪 True love ke liye kuch bhi karegi!]

As these thoughts swirled, the ceiling fan hummed above, and the distant honking from Borivali Link Road mixed with WhatsApp chimes. My daughter’s act continued, her phone lighting up now and then—probably her friends sending reels about ‘true love wins all’.

A strange relief washed over me.

If she’s going to be so ungrateful, maybe it’s better not to have a daughter at all. The weight in my chest felt lighter, as if—for once—the endless worry belonged to someone else. But as I watched Ananya’s face, I knew this drama was just beginning.