So let's begin,

SEHGAL HOUSE – BREAKFAST TABLE

Morning light spills across the big teak table; toast, fruits, parathas sit half-eaten on plates. Bela and Mahir exchange quiet glances while the three kids dig in lazily.

Bela clears her throat, trying to sound casual.

Bela (light tone)

“Aashi beta.. Mumma ne aapko kal kuch kaha nhi lekin next time se aise akele bahar nhi jaoge aap samjhe?Agar wo teeno didi ne time pe nahi dekha hota toh…”

(She lets the sentence fade, buttering a toast.)

Mahir (joining in, easy)

“Haan… waise tumhe nahi lagta, wo teeno jo hotel mein reh rahe hain… zyada safe toh nahi lagta mujhe. Akele h wo log waha pe bina mumma papa ke.. Unhe itni chot bhi lagi thi kal.. Humare ghar mai toh guest room bhi khaali pada hai.”

Vanu’s head pops up, eyes wide.

Vanu (eager)

“Bilkul! Didiyon ne hamari kitni help ki hai. Humari aashi ko bachaya h.. Agar woh yahan rahein toh kitna acha lagega, Mumma! Bas mai apni chocolates share nhi karungi kisi se.”

Kiku (nodding, mouth full)

“Haa.. Main bhi kehti hoon. Didiyan ghar pe rahengi toh humko homework mein bhi help milegi… aur woh safe bhi rahenge. Khushi didi ke haath se khoon nikal raha tha.. Mujhe toh thodi si bhi chot lagti h toh mujhe aap dono chahiye hote ho.. Wo teeno didi akele h udhar.”

Bela glances at Aashi, her brows knitting—this is the tricky one. The little girl is pushing her cornflakes, silent.

Bela (gentle, testing)

“Aashi… tumhara kya kehna hai? Khushi didi, Akshu didi, Vanshu didi… agar woh guest room mein aa jaayein toh?”

Aashi doesn’t answer immediately, keeps stirring her milk. Mahir exchanges a tiny nod with Bela: give her space.

Mahir (softly teasing)

“Arre, chhup kyun? Tum toh captain ho yahan ki. Team Aashvi ki leader bhi.. Tumhari marzi ke bina kuch nahi hota.”

Aashi fidgets, still quiet, lips pressed. Bela’s fingers tighten around her cup, worry flickering in her eyes.

The clink of spoons softens into quiet as all eyes shift to Aashi. She’s still nudging her cornflakes, lost in last night’s flashes—Khushi’s arm yanking her back, the sting of dust, Akshu–Vanshu’s hands steadying them both.

Bela and Mahir wait, saying nothing.

Aashi (small voice, still thinking)

“Kal… agar Khushi didi nahi hoti na… toh main… main toh gir hi jaati.”

(She bites her lip, glances at Mumma, then lowers her gaze again.)

Aashi

“Jab unhone mujhe daanta tha na mujhe wo bilkul acchi nhi lagi thi ki aise kaise daant diya unhone Aashi ko.. Wo toh sirf mumma ya teacher daant sakti h na.. Mujhe bohot buri lagi h wo.. . Akshu didi toh… enemy hai meri.”

(A faint, shy smile tugs at her mouth.)

Aashi

“Lekin… kal ke baad… lagta hai main galat thi. Mujhe bachaane ke liye… woh teenon didi bina soche bhaag ke aa gayi. Mujhe… achha laga. Vanshu didi ne mujhe toffee di.. Akshu didi bhi mujhe pyaar se chup kara rahi thi.. Maine itna pareshaan kiya unhe.. Mujhe laga tha wo meri enemy h? Enemy ki help kaun karta h.. Par unhone ki.. Khushi didi ne bhi mere acche ke liye daanta tha na us din mumma.. Wo toh bas mujhe dawai lagane ko bol rahi thi.. Maine unki baat nhi suni is liye daanta.. Wo teeno buri nhi h.. Aur enemy bhi nhi h.. Wo hero h.. Unhone humari help ki h itni baar ab hume bhi karni chahiye na mumma.. Main haan bol rahi hoon… woh yahan aa jaayein toh bhi chalega. Mai unhe thank you bolna chahti hoon.”

Vanu beams, reaching across to squeeze her sister’s arm.

Vanu (grinning)

“Dekha Mumma, Aashi bhi maan gayi! Didiyan acchi hain. Yayyy”

Kiku (excited)

“Yesss! Ab sab ek hi ghar mein rahenge—masti karenge!”

Bela lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her palm slips over Aashi’s hair, stroking gently.

Bela (soft, relieved)

“Shabash meri bacchi. I am proud of you mera gudiya.. Tumne jo feel kiya woh bata diya—bas yahi chahiye tha. Meri aashi badmashi kar sakti h, gussa ho sakti h par apni galti bhi samajh jaati h(kissing her forehead)”

Across the table Mahir hides a knowing smile behind his cup of tea, catching Bela’s gaze: one step closer..

---

CLASS - 9B– MID-MORNING

Bell rings, murmur of chairs scraping. Bela steps in with her register hugged close to her chest, the usual soft smile ready—but the first thing her eyes search for is the back bench.

There they are.

Khushi, Akshu, Vanshu—trying hard to sit straight, tied hair, open books like it’s any other day. But the hollowness on their faces shouts louder than any word. Khushi’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes; Akshu is blinking too often; Vanshu presses her lips together every time her shoulder brushes the shirt's fabric.

Bela’s gaze sweeps once, twice—

Akshu: the white strip on her elbow, edges already turning grey from the morning dust.

Vanshu: bandage grazing the collarbone, peeking from beneath the shirt.

Khushi: her right palm, still tinted pink, the cut refusing to fully close.

For a second Bela’s throat tightens. Her fingers twitch to walk over, tilt Khushi’s hand up, check if it’s still bleeding. To ask if Akshu even cleaned that scrape. To insist Vanshu sit differently so the collarbone isn’t pressed.

But twenty more pairs of eyes wait, half-rising to greet her. The weight of being a teacher pulls her spine straighter.

Bela (clears throat)

“Good morning, everyone.”

The chorus answers back, thin and sleepy.

She turns to the board, chalk squeaking as she writes today’s date. Inside, her heart is pounding against the rules:

I’m a teacher, I’m in class. I can’t break the line… yet how do I ignore those wounds?

She takes attendance, voice steady though her chest aches. Every time her pen crosses their names she wants to stop and ask, Did you eat? Did you see a doctor?

Instead, she flips open the textbook.

Bela

“Alright class, page forty-three. Let’s begin with yesterday’s topic.”

But while her mouth explains definitions, her mind is already racing—

After class. I’ll talk to them after class. I’ll check every bandage if I have to.

AFTER SOME TIME -

The bell rang; chatter filled the corridor as half the class spilled out for lunch. Bela closed her register slowly, eyes fixed on the trio who were still gathering their books. Every muscle in her body pushed her forward until she stood by their desk, arms folded—her teacher’s stance switching on like armour.

She let her gaze drop, deliberately, to each of their injuries.

“Show me your hand, Khushi,” she said, voice clipped.

Khushi froze, then forced a small smile. “Ma’am, theek hai… bas thoda cut hai.”

“Thoda cut?” Bela arched an eyebrow. “Yeh thoda cut se zyaada lag raha hai. Open your palm.”

Khushi shook her head gently, hiding it behind her notebook. “Honestly ma’am, dard bhi kam ho gaya h… hum manage kar lenge.”

Bela turned to Akshu, her tone sharpening. “Aur tum? That bandage looks dirty already. Kab clean kiya tha?”

Akshu hugged her elbow protectively. “Bas kal raat, ma’am… it’s fine.”

“Fine?” Bela’s voice dropped lower. “Bleeding hui thi kal raat. Tum log samajhte kyun nahi ho—this isn’t a joke.”

Vanshu slipped her bag on, trying to keep it casual. “Ma’am sach mai, itna bhi serious nahi hai. Lunch time ho gaya… hum canteen ja rahe hai.”

The three exchanged nervous glances, half-bowing as if to escape.

“Ruko—” Bela’s hand twitched forward, but they were already edging toward the door, smiling too quickly.

“Ma’am tension mat lijiye,” Khushi said, backing away. “Hum khud kar lenge dressing… promise.”

And just like that they disappeared into the corridor, their laughter forced.

Bela stood by the bench, jaw tight. Her eyes lingered on the faint red mark Khushi’s bandage had left on the desk.

They think they’re protecting me by pretending it’s nothing.

A knot of anger and worry twisted in her stomach. She exhaled sharply, whispering to herself, “Yeh bachche… stubborn beyond limits. Par ab bas—main aise ignore nahi kar sakti.”

Her fingers drummed against the wooden desk, already plotting her next move.

CANTEEN – LUNCH BREAK

The canteen hums with chatter and clatter — plates, laughter, the hiss of samosas frying.

In a far corner, Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi hunch over a table.

Their bags slump at their feet, faces pale, eyes ringed from another sleepless night.

Between them: a half-empty packet of cheap wafers. They break pieces slowly, as if making it last.

Vanshu (half-smile, teasing)

“Lunch date… wafer style.”

Khushi (dry laugh)

“Bas itna hi pocket ne allow kiya.”

Akshu (glancing around, low voice)

“Chup. Koi sun lega toh gossip shuru.”

They crunch quietly, pretending it’s normal.

A shadow stretches across the table.

They look up.

BELA stands there — straight-backed, saree perfectly pinned, gaze sharp.

All three jolt upright, chairs scraping, eyes dropping. The canteen noise seems to fade for them.

Bela’s stare shifts to the lone wafer packet. Worry tightens her jaw.

Bela (measured, stern)

“Yeh tumlog ka lunch h? Kal dinner mai kya khaya tha?”

Silence. The trio exchange fleeting glances.

Bela (lower, firmer)

“Main pooch rahi hoon. Answer.”

Khushi (hesitant, soft)

“Woh… Ma'am noodles le liye the… bas.”

Vanshu (forcing a smile)

“Haa.. Aur aaj bas halka khane ka mood tha.”

Akshu (barely above a whisper)

“Paise bhi kam the.”

The blunt honesty stills everything. Bela’s expression doesn’t crack, but her eyes glint with something heavier than anger.

After a long beat, she straightens.

Bela (clipped, calm)

“Mere saath chalo.”

No argument. The girls gather their bags and fall in behind her, silent as shadows, the wafer packet abandoned on the table.

STAFFROOM – LUNCH HOUR

The staffroom is quiet, most teachers having stepped out. A faint aroma of home-cooked food lingers. Bela walks in briskly, the three girls trailing behind like guilty shadows.

She sets her tiffin box on the table with a decisive thud, then turns sharply.

Bela (stern, pointing to chairs):

“Baith jao.”

The three hesitate, exchanging nervous looks. Finally, they sit, stiff-backed, hands folded on their laps.

Bela opens her tiffin — parathas, sabzi, pickle neatly packed. She begins serving without a word, placing plates in front of them one by one.

The girls stare, startled.

Akshu (uneasy):

“Ma’am… yeh… aap—”

Bela (cutting her off, firm):

“Chup. Abhi koi bahana nahi. Khaao.”

Khushi (soft protest)

“Ma’am… aapko yeh sab karne ki zaroorat nahi… hum manage kar lenge.”

Bela’s gaze snaps up—sharp, commanding. Khushi’s words dry on her tongue; she drops her eyes to the bandaged palm, fumbling to tear the paratha.

Bela notices. Without a word, she reaches over, tears the paratha into bite-sized pieces and slides the plate back.

The three stare—guilt, relief, and something warmer swirling silently.

Vanshu (small voice)

“Ma’am… hum aapko disturb nahi karna chahte the…”

Bela (flat, but the edge softening)

“You are not disturbing. Eat.”

The room goes quiet save for the faint rustle of tiffin paper. Slowly, cautiously, the girls lift the food to their mouths. Hunger wins; soon they’re eating in earnest.

Bela leans against the desk, arms folded, eyes fixed on them—face stern, gaze threaded with unspoken care. After few minutes, the last crumbs of paratha are gone; pickle smeared faintly on the edges of their plates. The three girls sit back, wiping their hands, still a little dazed from being served like this.

Bela snaps the lid onto the empty tiffin, her movements brisk but not angry. She glances up, tone clipped.

Bela

“School ke baad… tum teeno mujhe parking area mein miloge, clear?.”

The words drop like a stone.

Akshu, Vanshu, Khushi blink at each other, unsure.

Akshu (tentative)

“Ma’am… parking area?”

Bela (firm)

“Bas. Sawal mat karo. Bell bajte hi seedha wahaan aana.”

The trio exchange another uneasy look; none of them dares press further.

Vanshu (quiet)

“Ji… ma’am.”

Khushi simply nods, still confused.

Bela gives a final stern sweep of her eyes over them, then starts clearing the plates. The girls rise, murmuring a soft “thank you ma’am”, and shuffle toward the door, whispering to each other.

Akshu (under breath, puzzled)

“Parking mein kya kaam hai…?”

Vanshu shrugs, lips tight.

Khushi bites her lip, uneasy but silent.

They slip out of the staffroom, their confusion trailing behind them like a hush, while Bela watches, expression unreadable.

---

PARKING AREA – AFTER SCHOOL

The bell has barely stopped echoing when Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi step into the late-afternoon sun. Backpacks pulled tight, they weave past lines of students heading for buses until they spot Bela.

She’s already waiting beside her silver car, arms folded, sari pleats razor-neat, expression carved from stone.

The three slow instinctively, hearts thudding.

Bela (flat, no warmth)

“Car mein baitho.”

The order lands like a gavel.

Akshu (hesitant)

“Ma’am… par—”

Bela (sharper, cutting)

“Koi sawaal nahi. Sit.”

The girls exchange a quick glance. Vanshu pulls open the back door, Khushi follows, wincing as her bandaged hand brushes the handle.

Bela’s gaze cuts to Akshu.

Bela

“Akshika, front seat.”

Akshu gulps, rounds the bonnet and slides into the passenger side, fumbling with the belt.

Once all doors click shut, Bela starts the engine, gear sliding smoothly.

Khushi (nervous whisper from the back)

“Ma’am… hum kahan jaa rahe hain?”

Bela’s eyes stay on the windscreen.

Bela (calm, final)

“No more questions. Baith jao seedhe.”

The engine hums; they roll out of the lot.

Inside, silence thickens. Only the low whir of the AC and distant horns. From the rear-view, Bela’s eyes flick—first to the gauze shadowing Vanshu’s collarbone, then to Khushi’s palm where the bandage edges are faintly red. Her glance lingers, then shifts sideways to Akshu’s scraped elbow resting stiffly on her lap.

She says nothing, but her fingers tighten once on the wheel.

The three besties huddle in their seats, exchanging tiny, bewildered looks. None dares break the quiet.

Outside, Mumbai’s traffic roars past; inside the car, an almost ceremonial stillness—teacher and students locked in an unspoken journey to somewhere unknown.

HOSPITAL DRIVEWAY – LATE AFTERNOON

The car rolls to a stop before a modest clinic, the red cross on the signboard pulsing under the sun.

Inside, the three besties stare out of the windows—stunned.

Vanshu (small, uncertain)

“Ma’am… yeh toh—”

Akshu (half-whisper)

“Hospital? Hum toh—”

Bela snaps the ignition off. The sudden silence feels heavy. Her eyes slice toward them.

Bela (sharp, brooking no debate)

“Bas. Ek shabd aur nahi. Utro.”

Khushi hesitates, voice barely above a breath.

Khushi (pleading)

“Ma’am… chhota sa cut hai, hum manage—”

Bela whirls, restraint snapping.

Bela (voice rising, raw steel)

“Khushi! Bas karo. Tumhe samajh nahi aata? Yeh gehra cut hai, khoon abhi bhi ruk nahi raha—aur tum drama kar rahi ho! Agar infection ho gaya toh? Tab bhi bolo gi ‘hum manage kar lenge’? Subah se dekh rahi ho, teenon zid pe zid. Zakhm dikh rahe hain mujhe, phir bhi ‘hum theek hain’ ka naatak? Nahi chalega yeh!”

Khushi(guilty)

"Sorry ma'am"

Her gaze sweeps over Akshu’s scraped elbow, Vanshu’s bruised shoulder.

Bela (firmer, low but blazing)

“Ab meri ek hi baat hogi—treatment. Aur abhi.”

The car fills with quiet. Khushi swallows, staring at her bandaged palm. Akshu and Vanshu trade guilty glances, hearts thudding.

Bela exhales hard through her nose, pushes the door open with a curt motion, saree pleats swinging as she circles to the other side.

CLINIC STEPS

The besties slide out one by one, heads low. Bela’s palm lands gently but firmly at Vanshu’s back, guiding them toward the entrance. Her gaze lingers on Khushi’s palm, jaw set.

Bela (clipped, no-nonsense)

“Seedha doctor. Dressing, tetanus, jo bhi zaroori hai. Aur koi behas nahi.”

The trio exchange tiny, defeated looks—fear, guilt, and a strange sliver of relief. They follow Bela into the antiseptic smell of the clinic, her authority clearing a path ahead of them.

DOCTOR’S CABIN – EARLY EVENING

The clinic room smells faintly of antiseptic and eucalyptus. A ceiling fan ticks lazily. Charts of the human skeleton hang crooked on the wall.

Akshu, Vanshu and Khushi perch side-by-side on the examination bench, shoulders tight, feet dangling. Bela stands behind them, arms folded, expression carved from stone.

The Doctor, a kindly middle-aged woman, flips through their intake slips, then glances up.

Doctor (matter-of-fact)

“Yeh kya haal bana rakha hai? Weakness, dehydration… clearly khaana sahi se nahi kha rahe. Junk food pe guzara kar rahe ho kya?”

The words hang heavy.

Akshu’s throat bobs. Vanshu bites her lip. Khushi stares at her bandaged palm. All three shift uneasily.

From behind, they can feel Bela’s gaze drilling into their backs—sharp, unblinking.

Vanshu (tiny whisper)

“Mar gayee…”

Akshu (under her breath)

“Ab toh… gaye kaam se.”

Khushi risks a side glance: Bela’s jaw tight, eyes narrowed, the silent message loud as thunder—

Very good. Bas yahi baaki tha.

The trio sit straighter, hearts thudding, wishing the floor would open.

Doctor (still scanning them)

“First step—proper meal. Phir hi dressing, injections ka effect hoga. Aap log breakfast miss karte ho?”

The girls nod faintly, guilty.

Bela shifts her stance, a single eyebrow arched. The weight of her stare is worse than any scolding.

The tension hums in the small cabin, a prelude to whatever lecture might come once they step outside.The trio still sit like schoolkids caught cheating, feet fidgeting on the metal bench. Bela stands a step behind, arms folded so tight her bangles barely shift.

Khushi leans in, whispering fast.

Khushi (hissing, half-laughing)

“Bas… aaj toh gaye. Ma’am ka mood dekha?”

Akshu (groaning under her breath)

“Abhi toh doctor ne bola weakness, dehydration. Ab ma’am poora hisaab maangegi.”

Vanshu (squeezing her knees)

“Hum teenon bohot bura fase h aaj.. Ab bhagwaan hi bachaye bas ma'am ke gusse se.”

They trade a nervous giggle that dies the moment Bela clears her throat.

Bela (flat, cold)

“Aakhri baar… kab dhang se khana khaya tha?”

Silence detonates. The ticking fan grows louder. None of them dare look up.

Khushi (swallowing, forcing a smile)

“Ma’am… woh… aapne hi toh… staff room mein khilaya tha thodi der pehle.”

She trails off as Bela’s gaze snaps to her — razor-sharp, no blink. A look so deadly Khushi instantly wishes she’d vanished.

Bela (low, dangerous)

“…Very funny.”

Akshu (panicked cover-up, blurting)

“Ek… ek mahina pehle… maybe?”

Vanshu (eyes squeezed shut, surrender)

“Jab ghar se nikle the tab.”

For a heartbeat, the room freezes. The doctor hides a twitch of a smile; Bela just exhales through her nose, stare scorching.

Bela (clipped)

“Bas. Ab ek shabd aur bola toh consequences will be worse for three of you.”

The trio snap their mouths shut, eyes wide, hands folded like saints.

MOMENTS LATER

The nurse rolls in a trolley – cotton, antiseptic, a tray with syringes glinting under the tube-light.

Khushi, Akshu, Vanshu exchange a single look: save us.

Bela doesn’t blink; her palm rests on the back of a chair, pure authority.

Doctor (calm, routine)

“Sab ke wounds clean karenge… tetanus zaroori hai.”

The three besties straighten as if at parade ground, nodding too fast.

The nurse begins with Vanshu as she swabs her collarbone scrape, cool sting making her shiver.

Syringe appears. Vanshu’s throat goes dry, eyes dart to Bela.

Bela simply slides her chair closer, her fingers wrapping Vanshu’s hand.

Bela (low, steady)

“Dekho mujhe… bas ek chubhan, aur khatam.”

The needle slips in. Vanshu’s jaw tightens, feet drum once against the floor.

No scream — only a hissed breath. Izzat intact.

Bela gives her palm a reassuring squeeze.

“Good. Brave.”

Akshu shifts, muttering a thousand nahin under her breath.

Akshu (tiny voice)

“Ma’am… mujhe… zaroorat nahi—”

Bela (firm, no nonsense)

“Chup. Baith. Hawa mat bana.”

Akshu clamps her eyes shut. Bela’s arm slides around her shoulder, the other hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

Bela (softer)

“Saans lo… ho jayega.”

Needle pierces. Akshu’s toes curl, a muffled squeak escapes, but she stays still — pride stapled to her lips. When it’s over, Bela’s thumb grazes her knuckles, silent approval.

Next the doctor studies Khushi’s palm, brows knotting.

Doctor

“Yeh cut deep hai… proper cleaning aur tetanus dono.”

Khushi forces a grin, failing miserably.

Khushi

“Bas thoda sa hai, ma’am—”

Bela’s stare slices her sentence.

Bela

“Chup. Zyaada acting nahi.”

Khushi gulps, extends her hand.

Injection slides in; her shoulders jerk, lips bite down on a yelp.

Then the antiseptic floods the wound — white fire ripping up her palm.

Khushi gasps aloud, back arching.

Khushi

“Ahhh— bas bas bas!”

Bela cups her wrist, firm yet gentle, the other hand smoothing her hairline.

Bela (quiet steel)

“Rok lo… bas thodi der… main yahin hoon.”

Khushi clenches her jaw, tears pricking, but stays silent — izzat pyaari hai after all. When the dressing finally wraps snug around her palm, she sags, breath shaky.

The trolley rolls away. The doctor jots notes, satisfied.

Bela surveys the trio — pale, wide-eyed, but undefeated.

Bela (curt, yet warmer)

“Ho gaya. Ab drama band. Seedha pani piyo, phir ghar.”

Khushi, Vanshu, Akshu share a weak giggle, relief chasing the sting, silently thankful the ordeal (and their ma’am’s glare) kept them braver than they felt.

---

PARKING AREA – EVENING

The cool air hits them as they step out of the clinic. Bandages neat, tetanus behind them — they should’ve felt safe. Relieved, maybe. But “safe” is too big a word when Bela is the one escorting them.

The moment they climb into her car, buckles clicking nervously, Bela adjusts the rear-view mirror — eyes sharp, lips pressed thin. She starts the engine.

Bela (low, deceptively calm)

“Hotel ka naam.”

Three frozen statues in the back. Vanshu and Akshu exchange a don’t-you-dare glance, Khushi pretends to look out of the window like the question wasn’t for her at all.

The car glides forward, silence thick.

Bela’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. She asks again, voice lower, deadlier.

Bela (dangerously soft)

“Maine kaha… hotel ka naam.”

The tone slices through them like a blade. Vanshu’s courage snaps first.

Vanshu (meek, tiny voice)

“…Ma’am… Sunshine Residency.”

Bela doesn’t reply. Just a sharp flick of her eyes in the mirror — enough to make all three shrink into the seats.

The car changes lane, now heading towards their so-called home.

In the backseat, the sisters sit stiff as boards, bandages itching, nerves jangling. Each heartbeat screams the same thing: room ki condition dekh ke toh ma’am hume zinda dafan kar dengi.

Khushi leans to Akshu’s ear, whispering like she’s reciting her own death sentence:

Khushi (under her breath)

“Aaj… humari antim yatra shuru ho gayi.”

Akshu elbows her lightly, muttering back:

Akshu (grim humour)

“Hotel se seedha shamshaan. Bela ma’am express.”

Vanshu buries her face in her palms, whispering to herself:

Vanshu

“Bhagwan, please abhi light chali jaaye… kuch toh ho jaaye… bas ma’am ko hamara room na dikhe.”

But destiny (and Bela) don’t believe in miracles.

The car speeds on, teacher’s glare slicing through the rear-view, and three bandaged girls brace for the storm awaiting them at Sunshine Residency.

SUNSHINE RESIDENCY –

The car screeches to a halt in front of the modest hotel. The neon sign flickers above like it knows trouble just arrived.

Bela steps out first, saree pleats snapping against her stride, authority oozing from every step. The trio shuffle out behind her, looking exactly like prisoners being marched to the gallows.

Khushi (whisper, panic)

“Bas ab gaye. Abhi room ka haal dekhke toh ma’am humari atma ko bhi suspension letter bhej degi.”

Akshu (muttering back, deadpan)

“Suspension? Beta, yeh toh sidha death penalty h.”

Vanshu (clutching her bandaged shoulder, dramatic)

“Mujhe lagta h main pehle hi marr jaungi ghabrahat se…”

Bela spins on her heel, her glare shutting them up instantly.

She gestures sharply.

Bela (clipped)

“Lead the way.”

Inside, the receptionist stammers a greeting, but one look at Bela’s no-nonsense face and he melts into the background. The three sisters drag their feet towards the lift, whispering desperate plans.

Khushi (hissing, panicked)

“Kapde faila ke rakhe h room mai… abhi pura war zone lag raha hoga.”

Akshu

“Chup kar! Jaldi koi excuse socho… bol dena maid nahi aayi thi.”

Vanshu (horrified whisper)

“Maid?? Is hotel mai maid kahan se aayegi stupid!”

The lift dings. The walk down the corridor feels like their funeral procession. Finally, Khushi unlocks the door with trembling hands.

The moment the door swings open—

DISASTER.

Bedsheets crumpled like battlefield remains, clothes spilling out of half-open suitcases, empty instant noodle cups decorating the table, chips, biscuits and chocolate wrappers lying under the bed and everywhere and a sad half-broken chair leaning against the wall like it gave up on life.

Bela doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stands there in the doorway, eyes scanning every inch, face like carved stone.

The silence is deadly.

The besties scramble.

Khushi (pathetically hopeful smile)

“Ma’am… actually… hum log… uh… project bana rahe the group study ke liye. Isliye thoda…”

Bela (slowly turning her head, voice like ice)

“Project?”

Akshu (jumping in, fast)

“Haan ma’am! Science ka project. Rocket… rocket banane ka try kar rahe the.”

Vanshu (panicking, blurts)

“Par woh… udh nahi paya… gir gaya… isliye mess ho gaya.”

The three freeze. Even they realise how ridiculous that sounded.

Bela’s eyebrow arches, her glare enough to silence the entire city.

She steps inside finally, places her handbag down with a thud that echoes like a gavel.

Bela (dead calm, terrifyingly soft)

“Sit. Down.”

The three sit instantly, like trained recruits, knees knocking together.

Bela folds her arms, her voice quiet but razor-sharp:

Bela

“So tum teeno aise reh rahe ho? Mess, junk food, half-starved, wounds untreated… aur excuses pe excuses?”

Her words hang heavy. The trio gulp, their ‘rocket project’ excuse shrivelling like paper in fire.

In the silence, Khushi whispers to herself, face buried in her hands—

Khushi (murmur)

“Bas ab humari khair nhi.. Subah se jitna guts dikha rahe h ma'am ke saamne ab sab hawa banke niklega.”

The air turns heavy, almost suffocating.

Bela’s gaze sweeps the disaster zone once more, her jaw locked, eyes burning like fire. Her fists tighten at her sides.

For the trio sitting on the bed, every second feels like a countdown to doom.

Suddenly Bela strides across the room, her saree swishing sharply, and stops near the cupboard. Her eyes land on a thin stick lying abandoned in the corner.

She bends, picks it up slowly.

The sound of the wood scraping against the floor echoes like thunder in their ears.

Khushi (whisper, terrified)

“Bas… ab ant ho gaya. Kuch karo warna aaj ke baad muh dikhane layak nhi bachenge hum.”

Akshu (clutching Vanshu’s hand, trembling)

“Main toh keh rahi thi… bhaag lete h… Par inhone toh wo option bhi nhi choda.”

Vanshu (almost sobbing)

“Mujhe toh injection se bhi zyada darr abhi lag raha hai…”

Bela straightens, the stick firm in her hand, her eyes blazing as she turns back towards them.

That’s it.

The trio can’t take it anymore.

They slide off the bed in perfect unison, kneeling on the messy floor, their heads bowed.

Khushi (clutching her ears, pleading)

“Sorry ma’am! Please maaf kar dijiye! Aisa phir nahi hoga… promise!”

Akshu (copying her instantly, hands on her ears too)

“Haan ma’am! Hum sudhar jaayenge! Please yeh stick mat uthaiye…”

Vanshu (already teary, ears held tight)

“Mujhe maarne se pehle main khud confession kar dungi ma’am… noodles humne hi banaye the kal raat! Infact roz raat ko hum wahi khaate the.. ”

The three stay frozen like guilty kids, knees on the floor, ears pulled, waiting for Bela’s verdict.

Bela just stares at them, the stick still in her hand, her anger colliding with a rush of disbelief at their theatrics. For a split second, the corner of her mouth almost twitches — but her stern mask stays firmly in place.

Bela (voice thunderous, raising the stick slightly)

“Tum teeno ki himmat kaise hui mujhe is haal tak laane ki? Subah se naatak pe naatak dekh rahi hu teeno ke, aur ab yeh mess?!”

The trio squeak together—

All three (chorus, heads banging down)

“Sorry ma’am! Please, last chance!”

The three stay kneeling, ears tightly held, eyes squeezed shut as if execution is about to be announced.

Bela takes a slow step forward, the stick tapping against her palm.

Tap… tap… tap.

Each sound makes them flinch.

Akshu (murmuring under her breath, eyes still shut tight)

“Ma’am please isse mat maarna… injection bhi survive kar liya par yeh nahi hoga…”

Khushi (side-eyeing her sisters, whisper-hissing)

“Shhh chup rehna! Gussa aur bhadka degi tu!”

Vanshu (dramatic, eyes closed, hands folded instead of ears now)

“Ma’am agar aaj bache toh kal se aap jo bolenge jaisa bolenge hum waisa karenge… bas aaj chod dijiye... Homework.. Room ki safai.. Khana sab.. ”

Bela halts right in front of them, her shadow falling over the trio. She looks down at the three “culprits” kneeling like schoolkids caught cheating in exams.

For a second she just stares, lips pressed together, the stick balanced in her hand.

Bela (dangerously calm)

“Main soch rahi hoon… kaunsi punishment tumhare liye sahi hogi…”

The trio instantly collapse further, almost touching their foreheads to the floor.

Khushi (desperate, blurting out)

“Mam… aap chahe toh hume ek hafte ka detention de dijiye.. Extra classes lagwa dijiye.. Maths ki puri book solve karwa lijiye.. Nhi Maths nhi.. English haa English! Lekin yeh mat use kijiye!”

Akshu (quickly adding)

“Haan ma’am! Ya phir roz class ki safai kara lijiye hum wo bhi kar denge… bas maarna mat!”

Vanshu (nodding like a bobblehead, almost crying)

“Main toh aapko apna Netflix password bhi de dungi ma’am… free mein! Please bas stick door rakh dijiye!”

Bela’s nostrils flare, and she raises the stick a little higher.

All three: “SORRYYYYY MA’AMMM!!!” (screaming together, eyes still shut, as if blows are about to rain down).

The silence that follows is deafening.

Bela stares at their theatrics, the stick still raised.

Her lips twitch again, almost betraying her… but she clenches her jaw tighter, refusing to laugh.

Bela’s hand grips the stick tighter. Her chest rises and falls as if holding back a storm… but then the dam bursts.

Bela (booming, voice echoing in the room)

“BASSS!!!”

The word crashes into the walls. The three friends jump so hard they nearly topple over, still kneeling with their ears caught.

Bela (furious, words firing like bullets)

“Tum teeno ko samajh bhi aata hai ya dimaag bilkul ghaas charne gaya hai?! Subah se drama, zidd, acting bas yahi chal raha h—ek bhi baat sunne ki tameez nahi! Hospital mein doctor ne kya bola tha?! Weakness, dehydration—aur tumhein sharam nahi aayi?! Khud ko toh maar ke chhodoge hi, par mujhe pagal bana rahe ho tum log? Aise akele rahoge haa? Kab tak survive karoge aise.. Na koi discipline na koi proper planning bas independent banna h.. Idiot, fools!”

The trio keep their heads bowed, bodies trembling like scolded kids.

Khushi (meek, almost whispering)

“Ma’am… woh hum—”

Bela (cutting her with a roar)

“SHUT UP, KHUSHI! Ek shabd aur nahi! Mujhe laga tha in dono ke beech ka balance ho tum—responsible banna chahiye tha! Lekin nhi tum hi sabse zyada drama karti ho. Cut itna gehra, khoon band nahi ho raha tha—aur phir bhi ‘chhota sa hai ma’am’—! Kaise careless ho sakti ho tum?!”

Khushi’s eyes sting, she bites her lip hard, staring at the floor.

Bela turns sharply to Akshu.

Bela (pointing the stick like an arrow)

“Aur tum, Akshu! Har baar pe gussa toh sabse pehle aate h tujhe.. Kuch hua nhi ki bas morcha leke khadi ho jaati ho.. Aise leader banna h? Jab dikh raha h teeno ko itni chot lagi h toh kiska wait kar rahi thi doctor ke pass jaane ke liye.. Injection se darr lag raha tha? Haan?! Bolo! Nhi wo accept karne mai teeno ki izzat kam ho jayegi na.. Agar main force na karti toh kya karti tum? Infection ke saath bed pe let jaati?!”

Akshu gulps, eyes squeezed shut, her body shivering.

Finally, Bela whirls on Vanshu.

Bela (thundering)

“Vanshu! Sabse sincere aur shaant ho tum! Thoda toh samajh aana chahiye tha. Tumhari harkat aur natak pe mujhe hassi aati hai— your sincerity and dedication makes me proud, lekin aaj… Clinic mai hi mann kar raha tha lagau kheech ke ek teeno ko tab shayad akal aa jaaye..Apna dhyaan nhi rakh sakti.. Aaj tum teenon ne mujhe sirf sharminda kiya hai!”

The words land like blows. Vanshu’s eyes well up, her lips trembling.

Silence slams down again—only their shallow breaths audible.

Bela’s eyes blaze, her knuckles white around the stick.

Bela (voice lowering but sharp as glass)

“Tum teenon ne apni hadh paar kar di hai. Aaj ka din yaad rahega. Main tumhein chhodungi nahi. Ab… khud socho… kya punishment banti hai tumhari.”

Her words drip like acid, the question more terrifying than any stick.

The trio freeze in horror, hearts hammering.

Khushi (tiny, broken voice)

“M-Ma’am… sorry…”

Akshu + Vanshu (overlapping, trembling)

“Please Ma’am… sorry…”

They fold their hands, bowing even lower.

Bela stares down at them, her anger burning through the silence, making them squirm like never before.

The three friends are still kneeling, trembling under Bela’s glare. The stick in her hand hovers like a sword.

Then Bela exhales sharply through her nose and lowers it, her tone cutting like steel.

Bela (stern, commanding):

“Utho. Sab utho.”

The trio scramble to their feet instantly, eyes lowered, hands still folded like convicts.

Bela (gesturing around the messy room):

“Dekho idhar. Yeh kya hai? Wrappers… bottles… kapde idhar-udhar. Yeh hotel room hai ya kachre ka dabba? Tum logon ki zimmedaari bhi zero, aur sharam bhi zero.”

Her words slice the silence. The girls fidget, stealing guilty glances at the mess—half-empty chips packets, scattered books, clothes tossed on chairs.

Bela (snapping):

“Chup chaap khade kyun ho?! Saaf karo! Ek-ek wrapper utha ke yeh room chamakna chahiye. Chaloo… ABHI.”

The sisters jump into action. Vanshu darts first, snatching wrappers from under the bed. Akshu picks up bottles and crumpled tissues. Khushi, still wincing from her injured hand, starts folding clothes.

Bela crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, standing like a hawk by the door.

Bela (sharp, every few seconds):

“Vanshu—seedha dustbin mein. Naak mein dum kar rakha hai tum teenon ne… Akshu—jaldi! Yeh koi speed hai? Chal chal, double speed! Khushi… dhang se fold karo. Tumhari chot ka excuse yahan nahi chalega.”

The trio hurry, sweat beading on their foreheads though it’s just wrappers and clothes. Their faces are red—half from embarrassment, half from Bela’s unblinking supervision.

Finally, the floor clears, bedsheets are tucked, bags zipped. The room looks almost military neat.

The three line up nervously, bags at their sides, stealing a look at Bela.

Bela (inspecting with eagle eyes, then curtly):

“Thik hai. Ab bags pack ho gaye na? Sab saman andar? Dobara check karo. Mujhe complain nahi chahiye.”

The trio scramble again, rechecking zips and side pockets like soldiers caught in inspection.

Bela finally nods once, her expression still hard, but her tone slightly lower.

Bela:

“Good. Isi tarah discipline chahiye mujhe. Samjhe?”

The three nod furiously, whispering in unison:

“Yes Ma’am…”

The room now stands spotless, bags zipped, wrappers gone. The three friends stand in a nervous line while Bela inspects like a general after battle.

Then, without a trace of hesitation, she delivers her verdict.

Bela (calm, authoritative):

“Tum teenon ab mere saath ghar chal rahi ho. Abhi.”

The girls’ eyes widen in horror, as if she just announced their execution.

Akshu (blurting out, shaking her head):

“Nahi ma’am! Hum… hum aapke ghar nahi jaa sakte! Yeh galat hoga!”

Vanshu (immediately jumping in, desperate):

“Bilkul! Haan ma’am, yeh theek nahi hoga. Aapki family hai… unke beech hum kaise reh sakte hain? Matlab… kaunsa sense banta hai?”

Khushi (voice trembling but firm):

“Ma’am, please… already humne bohot problem create kar di aapke liye. Ab aapke ghar jaana matlab… aur bhi burden. Aashvi, Vanya, Kikvi… wo bhi comfortable nahi feel karengi. Aapke liye awkward ho jaayega. Hum… hum manage kar lenge yahan.”

They nod vigorously at each other, forming a united front.

Bela just stands there, arms crossed, eyes narrowing with every passing second. The more they argue, the sharper her glare grows.

Bela (finally, dangerously calm):

“Khatam? Sab keh liya?”

The trio fall silent instantly, their bravado collapsing.

Bela (clipped, no-nonsense):

“Good. Ab sun lo. Tum teenon ka ‘manage kar lenge’ main subah se sun rahi hoon. Result dekha? Chot, weakness, injections. Aur abhi bhi tum mujhe sikha rahi ho kya galat hai, kya sahi hai?”

The girls lower their eyes, lips pressed shut.

Bela (final blow, voice hard as steel):

“Decision ho chuka hai. Tum teenon Sehgal House chaloge. Aur wahan rahoge mere supervision mein. Baaki tumhari ‘zidd’—meri nazar mein zero.”

Silence. The sisters glance at each other, horrified, as if sentenced to life imprisonment.

The tension already thick in the air. Bela’s eyes blazing, the trio trembling.

Akshu, still with a little courage left, raises her voice carefully.

Akshu (timid but trying):

“Ma’am… please samajhiye na, hum—”

THWACK!

The stick lands sharp on Akshu’s leg. She yelps, hopping back.

Akshu (yelping, clutching her leg):

“Aaaah! Ma’am!”

Instantly, she dives behind Khushi like a child hiding from a monster.

Vanshu (eyes popping, whispering fast):

“Bas! Bas! Ab kuch mat bol! Warna humari bhi khair nahi!”

She darts like lightning to hide behind Akshu, making a human chain — Khushi in the front, Akshu in the middle, Vanshu peeking last.

Now Khushi stands exposed, wide-eyed, face pale. Bela takes a slow, deliberate step forward, stick tapping against her palm like a hunter ready to strike.

Khushi (gulping, whispering sideways to Vanshu):

“Mujhe kyu aage kar diya Yaar? Tu aaja saamne!”

Vanshu (muffled voice from behind Akshu):

“Mujhe nahi khani maar! Tu handle kar. Already Akshu ko pad chuki hai, ab teri baari hai… main toh safe zone mein hoon.”

Akshu, still whimpering, clutches her leg.

Akshu (to Khushi, panicking):

“Haan haan! Tu chal ab! Hum dono peet chuke, ab teri baari hai. Jaldi khatam kar le warna bonus round shuru ho jayega!”

Khushi’s face twists into despair as she realises she’s the sacrificial goat now, Bela towering over her like a lioness ready to pounce.

Bela (deadly calm, glaring at all three):

“Bahut drama kar liya tum teeno ne… Ab aur shabd nahi. Jo main bolungi wahi hoga. Samjhe?”

The trio, still crouched in their ridiculous chain formation, nod so fast it looks like they’re bobbleheads.

The atmosphere is suffocating. The stick rests in Bela’s grip, her presence looming large. Vanshu and Akshu are already peeking from behind Khushi, trying to stay “safe” while Khushi nervously gathers her courage.

She inhales deeply, voice trembling but steady enough to form words.

Khushi (soft but pleading):

“Ma’am… aap please humari baat sun lijiye ek baar. Hum samajhte hain aapka decision… aur sach mein, hume bohot respect hai aapke concern ka. Infact… hume khushi bhi hai ki aapne humare liye itna socha. Lekin… please… yeh aur awkward ho jaayega sabke liye. Aapki family ke liye bhi, aur humare liye bhi. Hum bas cheezein aur worse nahi banana chahte.”

The words hang in the air.

For a long second — silence.

Bela doesn’t blink. Her gaze is locked on Khushi, sharp as a dagger. The kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.

Khushi’s throat goes dry. Her knees threaten to buckle.

Then suddenly — THWACK! THWACK!

Two sharp strikes on her legs in quick succession.

Khushi (yelping, stumbling back):

“Aaaaahh!! Ma’am!”

She clutches her legs, almost hopping in pain, eyes wide in disbelief. Akshu and Vanshu’s jaws drop open.

Akshu (whispering behind her hand to Vanshu):

“Arre… do baar! Double combo! Ab toh khushi gayi kaam se…”

Vanshu (hissing back, panicked):

“Maine bola tha na chup rehne ko! Ab tu dekh, agli turn meri nahi aane wali, main toh invisibility mode mein hoon.. Aur na kuch bolne wali hoon.”

Bela finally speaks, voice like thunder crashing in a storm.

Bela (low but cutting, each word stabbing):

“Tum teeno ko samajh nahi aa raha h kya? Mere patience ki limit khatam ho gayi hai. Jo maine kaha hai… wahi hoga. Aur agar ab kisi ne ek shabd aur bola na… toh agli maar aur zyada zor se lagegi.”

Her glare sweeps over all three like a death sentence.

The trio instantly clamp their mouths shut, nodding rapidly, hearts pounding like drums. Vanshu hides deeper behind Akshu, Akshu behind Khushi — but Khushi, poor Khushi, is still at the front line, legs stinging from the blows.

The three stand in line like guilty soldiers before a raging general. Bela looms with the stick in hand, eyes blazing.

Akshu suddenly steps forward, gathering all her shaky courage.

Akshu (blurting out quickly):

“Thik h ma’am… hum aapke saath chalenge… lekin ek condition pe. Hum aapko rent denge… aur ghar ke kaam mein madad karenge. Tabhi hum chalenge.. Aapko humari yeh condition maanni hogi!”

Khushi immediately smacks her own forehead and mutters under her breath to Vanshu.

Khushi (whispering, exasperated):

“Ghar ka kaam toh aise bol rahi h jaise kitna aata h. Maggi tak banani aati h ya nhi tujhe Haa?Aur rent? Arre kam se kam jagah dekh ke toh bola hota yeh condition…”

Vanshu (trying not to laugh):

“Sahi bola… condition rakhne ka level dekho… bas ab dekh, ma’am ka reaction.”

Akshu (defensive, whispering back):

“Arre galat kya bola maine? Compromise toh kar rahi hoon na! Aur Maggi wo.. Wo haa vanshu h na.. Usko aati h.. Kar lenge na kaam kaunsi badi baat h.. ”

Vanshu (snapping):

“Ae! Mere bharose zinda hai kya tu? Aur kaam? Tu hi toh har baar mess create karti h!”

Akshu (mock innocent):

“Haan haan sab meri galti! Tum dono toh bade shareef ho na! Khushi ko toh bada safai ka shauk hai… kyu nahi kiya madam ne?”

Khushi (defensive):

“Arre mujhe kyu ghaseet rahi? Time kaha milta tha… warna mai kar deti, samjhi?”

Bela’s voice slices through like thunder.

Bela (snapping):

“Bas! Mazak banake rakha hai tum teeno ne!”

The three freeze.Khushi glares, then in one swift move pushes Akshu a little forward and ducks behind her.

Khushi (hissing):

“Bas ab tu front-line warrior hai. Mera kaam khatam.”

Akshu’s eyes widen in horror as she realizes she’s now standing directly in Bela’s firing range.

Akshu (whisper-yell to Khushi):

“Gaddari kar di tumne! Pure ki pure traitor ho tum!”

Vanshu snickers from behind.

Vanshu (smirking, whispering):

“Front se maar zyada lagti hai… enjoy, behen.”

And then it happens—

THWACK!

Bela’s stick comes down sharply on Akshu’s leg.

Akshu (yelping, hopping in pain):

“Aaaah! Ma’am! Dubara kyu maara? Maine toh sirf baat ki thi—”

Before she can finish—

THWACK!

Another sharp hit.

Akshu (near tears, clutching her leg, squeaking):

“Maaam! Ek hi baar kaafi tha, aur dard ho raha h—”

Bela (roaring now):

“Bas! Ek shabd aur nikla na tumhari zubaan se toh teesri baar padhegi!”

Akshu immediately slaps her own mouth shut with both hands, eyes huge and watery. She looks back at Khushi and Vanshu with a betrayed expression as if saying “Dekho, tum dono ke chakkar mein mujhe do do maar pad gayi!”

Khushi gulps, muttering softly—

Khushi (to Vanshu, terrified):

“Bach gaye… ab toh sach mein chup rehne mai bhalai h.”

Vanshu (nodding furiously):

“Haan… warna agli baar humari baari h.”

Meanwhile Bela stands tall, stick raised like a sword, glaring at all three who now look like statues—mouths sealed, eyes lowered, hearts racing. Akshu still rubbing her sore leg, Khushi standing behind her, both looking like they’ve already been to war.

Slowly… very slowly… Akshu and Khushi exchange a glance. Their sore legs scream in protest, but their wicked eyes shine with mischief.

Khushi (whispering, smirking):

“Bas ab… hamara quota poora ho gaya. Ab agli baari Vanshu ki hai.”

Akshu (nodding, wicked grin):

“Haan… equality honi chahiye. Danda ka distribution fair rehna chahiye.”

Before Vanshu can react, both sisters smirk in unison—and pull her forward.

Now the line is set:

➡️ Frontline: Vanshu (the new scapegoat)

➡️ Middle: Akshu (safe-ish)

➡️ Back: Khushi (absolutely shielded, grinning widest)

Vanshu (whisper-yelling, glaring back at them):

“Tum dono… main chodungi nahi! Gaddaron! Tumhe yaad rahega yeh din!”

But Akshu, instead of sympathy, opens her big mouth again—

Akshu (nervously muttering aloud):

“Ma’am… toh mai keh rahi thi ki rent waali baat… galat nahi h haina?”

Bela (snapping, voice like thunder):

“Akshika!!!”

THWACK!

The stick doesn’t land on Akshu this time—nope. Poor Vanshu, standing right in the front line, takes the full brunt.

Vanshu (yelping, hopping on one leg):

“Aaaaah! Ma’am! Mujhe kyu maara! Bol toh Akshu rahi thi!”

From the back, Khushi and Akshu are doubled over, laughing like complete idiots, trying to muffle their giggles but failing miserably.

Khushi (between laughs, clutching her stomach):

“Arre waah… shield ka kaam perfectly hua!”

Akshu (laughing, tears in eyes):

“Bohot maza aaya… Vanshu kaisa laga! Maza aaya?”

Vanshu spins around, glaring daggers at both of them, hopping on one leg and clutching the sore spot.

Vanshu (furious, whisper-shouting):

“Hanso… hanso abhi! Kal tum dono ki band bajaoongi! Thik nhi kiya dono ne.. Khushi tum bhi shaamil hi gayi iske saath... Mai baat nhi kar rahi tumse dekhna.”

Khushi(chucking, soft):

"Aree nhi na vanshu.. Itna toh chalta h na.. Maine 2.. Akshu ne 3 khaaye tum ek toh kha hi sakti ho na.. After all Team Unstoppable mai sab chiz ki sharing hoti h.. I love you naa.. Chalo chalo.. Gussa nhi hote."

Akshu(teasing, laughing):

"Mujhe toh bada maza aaya.. Hahhahha aur ek padna chahiye tha."

Vanshu(glaring akshu) :

"Tumhe toh baad mai dekhungi mai.. Gandi ladki.."

Bela watches all this chaos, her stick still raised. Her glare is burning—but her lips twitch. Just a fraction. For the first time since she entered the hotel, she has to fight a smile.

She presses her lips together, schooling her face back into sternness, but the twitch refuses to leave. The girls don’t notice—they’re too busy with their idiot comedy routine.

Bela (finally, voice sharp but a little shaky with hidden amusement):

“Bas! Tamasha khatam! Ab sab chup-chaap pack your bags. Tum teeno chal rahe ho mere saath. Aur ek bhi drama hua na… toh agla danda bina warning ke padega.”

The three freeze instantly, their laughter dying mid-breath. They nod so fast it looks like their heads might fall off.

To be Continued...