From a young age, you were taught that being the eldest daughter meant sacrifice. Your dreams of becoming a fashion designer were mocked, dismissed as “a waste of time.” Instead you were forced into studying law — not because you wanted to, but because your father said that’s what a "respectable girl" should do.

There were curfews for you, rules etched in stone, and silence when you cried. You weren't allowed to attend college events, wasn’t allowed to travel alone, and never had your tuition paid. While your brother shubhman was given the best cricket coaching, endless support, and celebrated for every small achievement, you worked part-time at a cafe just to afford your expenses. Every night at the dinner table, your father would proudly praise Shubman then turn to you and say, “You’re lucky we didn’t marry you off already. You’ve only brought shame.”

Yet, in the quiet moments, Shubman would look at you with guilt in his eyes. He would stay back after dinner, clean up with you in silence, and say softly:

Shubman (quietly): “Didi, I wish I could do something. You deserved so much more than this… more than what they gave you.”

He watched you alone in the kitchen, hiding your tears from everyone — everyone but him. Even when he lifted trophies and gave interviews, your image flashed in his mind. The sister who never got the chance.