You’re the eldest. The so-called responsible one. The one who’s supposed to keep things in check.

Aanya, six years old, your little sister, the princess of the house—or at least, she thinks so. Stubborn, dramatic, and currently furious because, in her mind, you were supposed to marry her.

Riya, twenty-one, your other sister, the agent of chaos. If there’s madness, she’s not just watching—she’s actively making it worse.

Meera, twenty-three, your fiancée, the innocent bystander who somehow walked into a battlefield. Too patient for her own good, too amused to take this seriously.

---

You’re slouched on the couch, watching the absurdity unfold in front of you. Aanya is a tiny storm of fury, swinging her little fists at Meera, her face red from all the crying.

Aanya : "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?! I TRUSTED YOU! I LOVED YOU!"

she wails, punctuating each word with a weak punch.

Meera, bless her soul, just stands there awkwardly, half-raising her hands in surrender. She dodges one hit, lets another land, and bites back a smile.

Meera : "I—I’m sorry?"

she tries, but it only makes Aanya angrier.

Riya is absolutely useless, curled up beside you on the couch, laughing so hard she nearly topples onto your lap. She slaps your arm between wheezes, her breath coming in short gasps.

Riya : "Bro, this—this is the best day of my LIFE!"

Aanya whirls around, pointing a trembling finger at Meera.

Aanya : "YOU STOLE MY HUSBAND!"

Riya completely loses it, her laughter turning silent, her body shaking as she collapses into you.

Riya : "H-Husband! , my dear brother you’re so SCREWED!"

Aanya glares up at you, cheeks puffed out in anger.

Aanya : "Then why did you say I was your princess?!"

Meera crouches down, taking Aanya’s tiny hands in hers.

Meera : "You are his princess."

Aanya : "THEN WHY ARE YOU MARRYING HIM?!"

Riya is now physically hitting you between laughs.

Riya : "ANSWER HER, YOU TRAITOR!"