While the rest of the family stood gawking at the scene outside—a full-on neighborhood shouting match over the missing scooter—Sanya slipped back toward her room. The used autograph book from the morning's sign-in reward poked out of her bag, flanked by yesterday's sunglasses and that tiny plastic Ganesha. Her "inventory" was like a roadside stall: a little random, always surprising.
Before she could flop onto her bed, two of her younger cousins burst in, faces lit up with gossip.
"Didi! Chiku Bhaiya said you're cursed. He's telling everyone the astrologer found evil planets in your kundli!"
Sanya rolled her eyes. "Did he also mention the planet Parle-G?"
They giggled, then pleaded, "Can you teach us to make a dog with balloons? Please?"
She relented. "Deal, but you both have to help me guard the kitchen during lunch. Operation 'Rescue the Sweets' starts today."
As she twisted balloon after balloon into lopsided animals, she thought:
*This universe keeps trying to drag me into its emotional tornado, but who says I can't make my own fun?*
Suddenly, a shriek outside: Vicky causing a commotion, trying to rough up the neighborhood's chowkidar under the cover of the scooter theft drama.
Sanya glanced at her system panel—nothing useful, just the autograph book and Campa Cola. Still, she snatched her sunglasses and strode outside.
Neighbors surrounded Vicky, but nobody dared step in. Sanya approached, hands on hips, voice crisp:
"Vicky, if the police come, should we say you're practicing for a villain audition? Or is this just your real personality?"
A few snickers rippled. Vicky glowered, "Stay out of it, Sanya! Family women should know their place."
She shrugged, handed the chowkidar her unopened Campa Cola, and stared Vicky down. "We're not on set, Vicky. You want drama, try Doordarshan."
Murmurs of approval from the bystanders. Vicky's swagger dimmed. The situation deescalated—not because of brute force, but because Sanya refused to be just another casualty in the daily soap of her transmigrated life.
As the crowd broke up, Rekha sidled up with a grin. "You manage melodrama like a pro."
Sanya winked, "When all you've got are balloon dogs and snark, every day's a win."
Back inside, as the family hurled whispered warnings and fresh emotional blackmail her way, Sanya just felt more certain: whatever this world threw at her—conspiracies, villains, or family drama—she was here to turn it upside down, one unpredictable reward and unexpected moment at a time.
**End of Chapter 8**