Breakfast was the usual—murmurs of melodrama brewing over parathas and stale chai. Sanya's Mummyji clattered bangles, eyeing Sanya like she was a ticking bomb. Chiku Bhaiya faked concern:
"Sanya, rumours are flying. You embarrassed Vicky in the park. Will you ever think of the family?"
She shrugged. "Vicky will survive, Bhaiya. He's tougher than he looks—at least, his moustache is."
The room froze. Even Dadi paused her puja chant. Sanya stuffed a paratha in her mouth, hiding a grin.
**Her phone vibrated—a silent system notification.**
**[Daily Sign-In: Reward – Hero fountain pen (blue ink, 2009 edition); 1 x Parle-G biscuit; 20 rupees for PCO calls.]**
Sanya rolled her eyes as she pocketed the biscuit. "Fantastic. My system thinks I need to pass notes in class."
**Later, outside the house—noon sun blazing.**
Rekha had texted: "Scooter lesson today? Your mum says you'll never learn."
Sanya grinned, retrieving the battered Hero pen from her pocket. "Meet at the chowk in 10. Bring guts."
They met beside Chiku's ancient scooter. Rekha perched on the back, helmet askew. Sanya, system reward in hand, recited the "Beginner Defensive Driving" instructions she'd glimpsed that morning.
She kickstarted the scooter—nearly toppled, then steadied. Every jerky move drew more jeers from neighboring aunties, especially when she wobbled past the kirana shop.
Rekha whooped.
Sanya grinned. "Don't judge the ride by the first pothole."
A frazzled uncle crossed in front of them, waving a tiffin. "Beta, be careful! The last girl who rode that scooter married off within the week."
Sanya winked. "Don't worry, uncle. I don't crash. I escape."
As they circled the block, a little faster each round, Sanya felt the familiar glow of being underestimated—by family, neighbors, and the universe itself.
When they parked again, Rekha nudged her. "You know, for a so-called runaway bride, you're cooler than half the boys here."
Sanya popped open the Parle-G packet, shared it with her friend, and looked at the bright, uncertain sky.
> "Let them keep plotting. My life, my script. And today, I drive."
Back inside, gossip about her "wild" scootering was already swirling. Sanya just pulled her system's Hero pen from her pocket, scribbling a secret list under her pillow:
- Learn to drive better.
- Get out—again.
- Find new allies.
- Maybe… win big.
Tomorrow's reward? Who knew. But Sanya was just getting started.
**End of Chapter 4**