Chapter 3: Priya’s Poison

I locked myself in the bathroom, the weight of everything finally breaking through. My resentment, my exhaustion, my hope—everything burst out in the cramped, damp space.

The system was livid. [Celebrating halfway and then failing—you’re truly your boss’s best employee.]

I groaned, head pounding. Days of overtime had left me hollow. I leaned heavily against the cracked sink.

The system’s voice was faint. [How about you ask him to sleep with you now?]

I snorted. "How about I ask him to drop dead?"

If only it was that simple.

The creator of this game had closed off all the shortcuts. Words like "sleep" and "die"—all off-limits. The reasons couldn’t repeat. After seven years, marriage refusal was one of the few ways left.

It was a dead end.

The tap dripped steadily, echoing in the small bathroom. I slumped onto the toilet, trying to think of another way out. The old geyser rattled, spitting out spurts of warm water, fogging up the mirror until my reflection looked like a ghost from a forgotten Diwali night. From next door, the pounding of masala in a mortar carried through the wall, and the neighbours’ TV blared a news debate, anchors shouting over each other—adding to my confusion and making me feel even more alone. I wiped my eyes with the edge of my dupatta, wishing I could disappear.

Suddenly, my phone rang—an unknown number. I picked up.

A gentle, almost mocking woman’s voice. "Miss Meera, I’m Priya."

My grip tightened on the sink.

She let the silence hang, then laughed quietly, a little smug. "You probably aren’t too familiar with me, but that’s alright, I know you very well. I’ve eaten the tiffins you made for Arjun, worn the white shirts you washed. Last year, on your birthday, I called him to my flat. This year, I made sure he forgot your birthday again. Meera, in his heart, you’re always second."

Her words were venom wrapped in sugar, curling around me like the thick air before a monsoon. I stared at my own tired face in the fogged mirror. Seven years, and the fine lines had crept in. The eyes that once lit up for Arjun now looked flat, resigned.

I steadied myself. "No need, because Arjun is going to marry me."

There was a pause, then Priya’s voice went sharp. "You don’t need to use this kind of talk to irritate me, you can’t win against me."

Arjun started knocking on the door. I hid my phone, flung the door open, and asked softly, "Will you go try on wedding lehengas with me tomorrow?"

Arjun was caught off guard, then pulled me into a hug, his tone for once gentle. "Alright. On the wedding day, you’ll definitely be the most beautiful bride."

I hung up the phone, forced down the wave of nausea, and accepted Arjun’s kiss.

Priya, I hope you can step up. Don’t let me down.

As Arjun’s arms tightened around me, my mind floated far above the city’s neon lights, above this rivalry, above the scent of ghee and jasmine that clings to every wedding. I prayed—let Priya’s pride do its work. Let her burn so bright I’m finally, finally set free.