Beyond the Pages

Chapter 3: A Home That Isn’t Home

Standing outside the school gates, Priya Kapoor hesitated.

School was over, but she had no idea where her character’s home was. After a moment, she recalled—the book mentioned her parents ran a small eatery near the school. Given their financial struggles, it couldn’t be anything fancy.

Crossing the road, she dismissed the bustling restaurants and zeroed in on a cramped, dimly lit diner sandwiched between two shops.

"Annapurna Bhojanalaya"—the sign was faded, the interior claustrophobic with four rickety tables. The air reeked of overcooked oil and excess ajinomoto. Priya had barely stepped inside when a chubby boy shoved past her.

"Move! Blocking the way like a statue," he snapped.

Priya glared at the back of his head—her "brother," Jayant—before following him in.

The place served cheap thali meals—one roti, two subzis—catering to budget-conscious students. Her father manned the stove, sweat dripping into the wok, while her mother scurried between tables.

The moment Jayant entered, her father’s face lit up. "Beta, you’re back! Hungry?" He fussed over him, asking about his day.

Then he noticed Priya. His smile vanished.

"Just standing there? Can’t you see how busy we are? Useless girl!"

Priya clenched her jaw but grabbed an apron. She’d worked worse jobs in her past life to pay for college.

As she carried plates, she noticed Jayant’s meal—butter chicken, paneer, fresh salad—served on clean china, unlike the greasy student thalis.

Meanwhile, she’d been starving herself to buy lollipops for classmates.

"Wash up later. Go help your mother with bills," her father ordered, then cooed at Jayant, "Eat, beta. Want more?"

Priya dropped the dirty plates into the sink with a clatter, washed her hands, and walked out without a word.

Her father’s shouts followed her. "Where do you think you’re going? Ungrateful wretch! Can’t even do this much—"

The door swung shut, cutting off his tirade.

Bread and Books

Digging into her pocket, Priya found ₹50. She bought the cheapest bun from a nearby stall and sat on a broken park bench, pulling out her chemistry textbook.

Thankfully, it was only Class 11—she could catch up. In her past life, she’d studied commerce and aced maths. Physics and chemistry needed work, but the rest was manageable.

As dusk fell, Jayant waddled out, their parents waving fondly. Priya tailed him to their old chawl—a six-story building her family had bought decades ago.

Jayant shrieked when she emerged from the shadows. "Creep! Trying to give me a heart attack?"

She sidestepped his kick, crushing his new white sneakers underfoot.

"MY SHOES!" he howled.

Their grandmother yanked the door open. "What’s wrong, Jayu?"

"She stepped on them!"

The old woman rounded on Priya. "Clumsy fool! Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

Jayant sobbed over his ruined "brand-new Bata sneakers" as Priya locked herself in the bathroom.

The Face in the Mirror

Staring at her reflection, Priya grimaced.

The novel described her as "unattractive until a dramatic glow-up later." Right now, she was a walking disaster—

Cakey, grayish foundation that didn’t match her neck.

Eyeliner so thick it turned her double eyelids into monolids.

Hair like dry straw, lips chapped, skin sallow from malnutrition.

Yet beneath the mess were sharp, striking features—a high nose, piercing almond eyes, and a defined jawline.

No wonder the character becomes stunning later.

She scrubbed off the makeup, revealing a face that, with care, could be beautiful.

The Final Straw

Before she could settle in her tiny storeroom-turned-bedroom, Jayant kicked the door open.

"Wash my shoes. Make them look new," he demanded, tossing them at her. "Hurry up! I need them by Monday."

Priya stared at the mud-crusted sneakers, then at her brother’s smug face.

"Do it yourself."

His jaw dropped. "WHAT?"

"You heard me." She picked up her economics textbook. "Or ask Dad. He loves doing things for you."

Jayant turned purple. "MAA! DID YOU HEAR HER?"

As their grandmother’s screeches echoed, Priya tuned them out.

This isn’t a family. It’s a nightmare.

She needed to move out. But how? She was a broke high-schooler.

For now, survival meant grades, a plan, and patience.