Sunday afternoon was suspiciously peaceful.

  My battered PC setup was finally running.Internet was working.Remote login client installed.

  I was actually ready for Monday morning work like a functioning adult.

  I leaned back on the couch, feeling like a king.

  And of course — because life hates smugness — that’s when my phone buzzed violently.

  Incoming Video Call: Didi ??????????

  My heart stopped.

  My older sister.The legendary loudmouth.The snitch.The terror of my childhood.

  I debated ignoring it.Maybe faking death.Maybe actual death.

  But if I didn’t answer, she would call Mom and Dad and say, "Karan’s dead or hiding something," and then my life would really be over.

  I sighed and picked up.

  Her grinning face filled the screen immediately.

  "OYEEE!" she shouted. "Mister Missing-In-Action! Where you hiding?"

  I cringed. "Busy, Didi. Work. You know. Corporate svery."

  She snorted. "Work on Sunday? Lies. You’re probably gaming like a useless cartoon character."

  "...Maybe," I muttered.

  Her husband, poor Jijaji, waved from behind her like a hostage sending SOS signals.

  "And," she continued gleefully, "Mummy-Papa said you haven't called in weeks. Naughty boy."

  I scratched my head. "Busy, Didi. You know how it is."

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

  And that’s when my doom happened.

  In the background, Eira — beautiful, tall, glowing Eira — walked past the living room, heading for the kitchen.

  Just a blur.Barely a second.

  But Didi saw it.

  Her eyes widened like a tiger spotting prey.

  "OI OI OI," she shouted, pointing at the screen. "WHO WAS THAT?! WHO IS SHE?!"

  I panicked.

  "That was — that was — AMAN!" I yelled.

  She burst out ughing. "Bhai, even drunk I wouldn’t believe that was Aman! That looked like a FEMALE, a PRETTY ONE!"

  "No! It's — cospy! Aman’s into cospy now!"

  "Cospy my foot," she said, cackling. "MY BROTHER HAS A GIRL IN HIS FLAT! MOMMMMMY!"

  I wanted to die.

  I moved the phone closer to my own sweaty face to block the background.

  "NO," I said, gritting my teeth. "NO REPORTS TO MUMMA. IT'S A FRIEND. JUST A FRIEND."

  Didi was howling with ughter, ignoring me completely.

  And just when I thought it couldn't get worse —

  Eira’s face peered over my shoulder into the camera, curious.

  The ultimate betrayal.

  Didi screamed with glee. "HAANJI FRIEND! HAAANJI! INTRODUCE BHI KARADO AB!"

  I cut the call in blind panic.

  The silence in the room was deafening.

  I turned slowly.

  Eira stood behind me, totally calm, holding an apple she had just picked from the kitchen counter.

  "What were you doing?!" I croaked.

  "You were speaking to a female," she said. "I wished to learn."

  I slumped onto the floor, dead inside.

  "You’re gonna kill me one of these days," I muttered.

  She tilted her head, unbothered. "Teach me," she said.

  I blinked. "Teach you what?"

  "This world," she said simply. "If I must survive here... I must learn."

  I sighed, rubbing my face.

  "Fine," I said. "Lesson one starts today."

  By evening, we were back on the Splendor, riding to the main market.

  The air was warm, buzzing with life.Street vendors yelled. Kids pyed. Couples strolled hand-in-hand.

  We stopped at a local clothing shop first.

  Eira tried on simple jeans and pin tops — enough to blend in.I picked basic things: underwear, socks, towel, cheap sneakers.

  As we left the shop with bulging pstic bags, my wallet whimpered in pain.

  But Eira’s quiet smile made it worth it.

  Then we passed the food stalls.

  And Eira’s eyes lit up.

  She stared at the street vendors like a kid seeing Disneynd for the first time.

  Gol-gappe.Spring rolls.Steamed momos.Aloo tikki chaat.Soya chaap sizzling on skewers.

  I saw her looking.

  I smiled.

  "You wanna try?" I asked.

  She hesitated — pride still stiff in her spine.

  But then her stomach betrayed her again with a loud growl.

  I ughed. "Come on. Today’s your day."

  We hit every stall like warriors on a feast mission.

  First: gol-gappe.

  I handed her one, warning her about the spicy water.She popped it into her mouth — and instantly her eyes watered.

  I panicked. "You okay?"

  She coughed once, then nodded fiercely."Fiery. But... good."

  I grinned.

  Next: momos.

  She practically inhaled the first one, delighted by the soft dumpling and spicy chutney.

  Then: spring rolls.

  She bit into the crisp, oily roll and moaned quietly in happiness.

  I ughed harder than I had in weeks.

  Watching Eira — serious, battle-trained Eira — going feral on street food was honestly the greatest thing I’d ever seen.

  We kept eating — aloo tikkis dripping with tamarind sauce, skewers of smoky chaap, sweet kulfi melting too fast in the heat.

  Eira let her guard down completely.Laughing quietly.Talking to stall owners in broken Hindi-English.

  At one point, a vendor praised her "accent" and called her "foreigner madam," giving her extra chutney.

  I didn’t correct him.

  I just smiled.

  By the time we staggered home, the sky was painted in deep purples and oranges.

  The shopping bags were heavy.My wallet was light.My heart was... weirdly full.

  We kicked off our shoes, colpsing onto the couch.

  Eira leaned back, arms thrown over the cushions, full and happy.

  "I don't remember," she said softly, "when I st had fun like that."

  I looked at her — really looked.

  The quiet joy in her face.The way her eyes shone.The tension in her shoulders finally loosened.

  "Good," I said simply.

  She closed her eyes, smiling faintly.

  I watched her for a moment longer —then stood, stretched, and shuffled toward the couch to crash.

  My st thought before sleep took me?

  Maybe this crazy life wasn’t so bad after all.