Sanya Malhotra blinked against the harsh light filtering through the window of a cramped, slightly tacky bedroom. The walls were plastered with heavy wallpaper in shades of gold and orange, the scent of incense still lingering. She sat up, confused. Last thing she remembered: scrolling her phone in her own world, then a strange flash…
Now? She was *here*—or rather *there*. In a world that felt like she had stepped straight into a Star Plus soap serial circa 2009. A world full of overly dramatic family politics, endless weddings, and constant emotional blackmail.
Her gaze fell on the large mirror across the room. Dusky skin, sharp black eyes, and tangled black hair gave her an oddly familiar yet different face. She was no longer herself—a new identity, a new family, a new reality.
*"Great,"* she thought dryly. *"Transmigrated into a saas-bahu serial universe. Just my luck."*
To her left, the old TV played the signature tune of *Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi* on repeat, a loop of angst and betrayal.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a glowing holographic panel floating before her.
**[Daily Sign-In System Activated.]**
**[Welcome, Sanya. Today's reward: One packet of Kurkure (Green Chutney flavor, 2009 batch). Item added to your inventory.]**
She raised an eyebrow. "So, no escape quests, no big godlike powers, just... snacks? Typical."
She chuckled quietly and tore open the Kurkure packet that mysteriously appeared beside her bed.
Her phone buzzed. A message popped up from an unknown number:
*"Sanya, time to marry Vicky Bhaiya's friend. Family expects you downstairs."*
Sanya sighed. *"Marry a third-rate goon? In this melodrama maze?"* She glanced around the room filled with plastic flowers and noisy relatives discussing her fate in the hallway.
Her fingers hovered over her phone. Maybe this new world came with a system for daily rewards—but the real challenge was surviving the toxic family and their endless scheming.
She smiled to herself, crunching a Kurkure chip. "Alright, universe. Let's see what you've got. But don't expect me to play by your script."
**Downstairs, the scene was all too familiar.**
Relatives in bright saris, chubby aunty voices, and Vicky Bhaiya himself, sunglasses on indoors, puffing his chest like a low-budget Bollywood villain.
"Mummyji," Sanya whispered to her new mother, "you do realize this is my life, not your serial, right?"
"Beta, it's all for your own good," came the syrupy reply.
Sanya smirked. Inside, she was making plans. The system might just give her junk snacks today, but she'd take whatever she could get—and rewrite her own destiny in this dramatic world, one sarcastic quip at a time.