Chapter 5: Ultimatums and Home Truths

When the recording ended, Arjun’s bravado evaporated. He looked like a schoolboy caught out by his own sibling.

I locked eyes with him. Respect is earned, not given—today I’d come to collect.

"I’m sixteen. Since Ananya and I were switched, her birthday must be close to mine. At sixteen, if you have income, you’re already a fully capable citizen under the law."

I spoke flatly, but a dull ache twisted in my chest—so many birthdays, jokes, and family memories lost forever.

"Before I moved in, I asked Ananya again and again if she was sure. Only when she said yes did I move in. I haven’t done anything wrong."

Arjun tried, "Can’t you see Ananya wasn’t really willing? She just—"

I cut him off. "Maybe she wanted attention, or to ease her guilt, or to prove something as the real daughter. But whatever the reason, people must be responsible for their words."

I looked at Ananya. "Don’t you agree, little sister?"

Then back to Arjun. "You’ve always had top marks, you’re already involved in the Mehra Group—even if you haven’t graduated. I don’t believe you can’t see right from wrong."

Kabir looked like his brain was about to short-circuit.

"Whether you lost your head out of concern or deliberately sided with Ananya, you owe me an apology. No matter how much you look down on me, you accused me without basis."

Arjun’s face darkened. He refused to meet my gaze.

Maa Mehra tried to smooth it over, "Ritu, your brother just misunderstood. No need to apologise, right?"

I stayed silent, eyes on Arjun.

Until Papa Mehra slammed the table. Plates rattled, TV serial cut to an ad, and the silence was deafening.

"Bas karo na! Just got home and already there’s no peace? Must you make the house so restless?"

Kabir flinched, shrinking in his chair. For a moment, I pitied him—in this family, silence was both a shield and a weapon.

I closed my eyes, sighing in regret. Dadi’s words echoed: "Zindagi me himmat zaroori hai, beta." Sometimes, you have to walk away to keep your peace.

I packed my bag, the zipper rasping, and walked out. Footsteps echoed in the empty hall. Only the sound of quiet sobbing followed—Ananya, Maa Mehra, maybe even me.