Ananya's first payment didn't feel real.
It was a message.
A number.
A transfer notification.
But when she opened her bank app and saw it sitting there — earned, not given — her throat tightened.
She stared at the screen longer than she had at any exam result.
Then she quietly sent half of it home.
Her mother called within minutes.
"Why did you send money?" she asked, worried.
"Because I can," Ananya replied simply.
There was a pause.
Then her mother's voice softened.
"We didn't raise you to carry us."
Ananya smiled to herself. "You raised me to stand."
That evening, she bought dinner for Room 407.
Nothing fancy. Street food. Desserts. Extra cold coffee.
Pihu nearly cried. "Our girl made it to the tax bracket."
Nandini smiled. "This is different pride."
Meher watched Ananya pay.
Not impressed.
Understanding.
Later, when they were alone, Meher said, "The first money always changes how you see yourself."
Ananya nodded. "I don't feel rich. I feel… capable."
Meher's lips curved. "That's more dangerous."