The sun hung lazily over the colony road, the air thick with post-lunch quiet.
Mahua Roy walked back from the market, juggling her shopping bags and muttering about grocery prices.

Just as she crossed the lane near the Bajaj mansion, a loud honk tore through the silence.
A black car swerved past, splashing through a puddle — and in a second, muddy water drenched her crisp saree from head to toe.

She froze mid-step, blinking at the brown streaks now decorating her silk.
Slowly, her gaze lifted toward the car.

Inside — Kartik Bajaj sat behind the wheel, grinning like he’d just won a gold medal in chaos. Beside him, Yamini Bajaj held her pallu over her mouth, clearly laughing.

The car zoomed away before Mahua could even scold them.

Mahua’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need an explanation — she knew.
A revenge for the morning’s fight. Typical Bajajs.

She exhaled sharply and shook her head. “Classless people,” she muttered, picking up her bags and walking home with the dignity of a queen who’d just survived a storm.

As soon as Mahua entered the Roy living room, Ipsita Roy looked up from her magazine.
“Arrey, Didi ! What happened to you?”

Mahua glared. “That idiot Kartik splashed mud on me — and his grandmother was sitting beside him, laughing.”

Ipsita’s eyes widened, then narrowed with pure, offended Bengali fury.
“Oh, they think they’re smart, huh? Wait. I’ll show them what real revenge looks like.”

Before Mahua could stop her, Ipsita stormed toward the terrace.
“Where are you going?” Mahua called out.
“To teach some Marwadi manners!” Ipsita declared.

The Roy and Bajaj terraces were barely a few feet apart — close enough to share gossip, or, in this case, vengeance.

Ipsita grabbed a small bucket, filled it with muddy water from a pot near the railing, and looked over at the Bajaj side.
Freshly washed bedsheets, shirts, and sarees fluttered happily on the clothesline.

A wicked smile curled on her lips.
“Perfect,” she whispered.

With one swift motion, she tossed the entire bucket.
SPLASH!

Brown droplets rained down on the Bajaj laundry.

From below came a distant voice — Dhriti Bajaj, shocked:
“Who ruined my washing?!”

Ipsita clapped her hands together like a victorious warrior and shouted back sweetly,
“Maybe the wind carried some mud from your son’s car, Dhriti ji!”

The nearby neighbours peeked from balconies, whispering and giggling — another episode of The Roy–Bajaj Show unfolding live.

Mahua stood below, shaking her head but smiling a little despite herself.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “And this war will never end.”

Ipsita returned . The house, however, was alive with celebration. Tonight was special—the day their Priyanshi had been born. The Bengali household was in full swing, preparing traditional delicacies: Luchi, Cholar Dal, and the ever-loved Payesh. The aroma of freshly cooked dishes filled every corner of the home.

In the living room, Durga Prasad was busy blowing up balloons while Dhruva, with Anwesh and Mihiksha’s help, was arranging decorations. In the kitchen, Mihiksha carefully prepared a cake, a heartfelt gift for her sister. Priyanshi, in her excitement, was vlogging the entire process, capturing every little gesture that made her day special.

From the store, Santanu had brought Rasgulla, while Anirban arrived with gifts, poppers, and candles. Bhumi was beside her daughter-in-law, sharing tips on making the perfect Luchi, while they welcomed neighbors who had come to join the celebration.

Yet, conspicuously absent were the Bajajs. Despite the house being full of laughter, love, and festivity, their presence was missed—but the family chose to focus on the joy surrounding Priyanshi instead.

The living room of the Bajaj household was filled with a calm afternoon light. Yamini, Dhriti, and Deepali sat together with Panditji, who was carefully studying Vaibhav’s kundli.

As the air hummed softly with the sound of his turning pages, Dhriti finally asked,

“Panditji, when is our Vaibhav’s marriage destined to happen?”

Panditji adjusted his glasses and peered at the chart. “Bahurani,” he said with a knowing smile, “it appears his marriage is written within this very year—quite soon, in fact.”

Yamini let out a long sigh of relief. “Finally! The boy will get married,” she said, joy glinting in her aged eyes.

Deepali chuckled softly. “Well, Maa ji, you’re right. Our Vaibhav is such a young man—and still without a girlfriend at this age—”

“What are you saying, Deepali babu!” Yamini interrupted sharply. Her old-fashioned sensibilities bristled at the mention of girlfriends and boyfriends.

“Sorry, Maa ji,” Deepali murmured quickly, not wanting to offend her mother-in-law.

“You’d better not use your brain for such nonsense,” Yamini continued firmly. “Now you all should focus on finding a good wife for our Vaibhav—someone pure Marwari, from a respectable family with values like ours. Their status must match ours, and they should respect our traditions and the entire family.”

“Yes, Maa ji,” Dhriti agreed, her eyes lighting up. “We should start looking for a girl right away.”

Panditji, still seated, smiled. “Yamini ji, if you permit, I have someone in mind. The family is very traditional, just like yours. They’re into business, and the girl is their only daughter—she has two elder brothers. Her father is well known in your society.”

Yamini’s face brightened. “Yes, yes, Panditji! You can speak to them. Our Vaibhav is very special, you know. If they went looking for a boy like him, it would take them years! I only hope the girl is sweet and obedient.”

Panditji nodded respectfully. “Of course, Yamini ji.”

After some more polite conversation, Panditji took his leave.

Not long after, Kartik came home from college. “Maa, I’m hungry!” he called out as he entered.

“Go freshen up, beta,” Dhriti replied. “I’ll serve lunch.”

A few minutes later, Utkarsh also walked in. Deepali approached him affectionately. “Do you want something to eat, beta?”

Utkarsh shook his head. “Later, Maa. I just had something with my friends.” He went upstairs to his room.

As Kartik ate his food, Yamini smiled at him and asked teasingly, “Kartik beta, what would you think if we brought a bhabhi for you?”

Kartik looked up mid-bite. “What? Who’s getting married?”

“Your Vaibhav bhaiya,” Yamini replied proudly. “We’re looking for a girl for him.”

“That’s a great idea, Dadi,” Kartik said with a grin. “But Bhaiya will never agree.”

“Why not?” Dhriti asked, surprised.

“Because Bhaiya said he’ll only get married after setting up all the business properly. That’ll take at least four or five years! He said he’ll teach me everything about the business too. Even Utkarsh bhaiya is still learning. So yeah, I don’t think Bhaiya will agree—and you know, Dadi, even Hansika tried to ask him out once!”

Yamini’s eyebrows rose. “Who is this Hansika, Kartik?” Dhriti asked curiously.

“Oh Maa, she works in our company—in a senior position. And she’s really beautiful too,” Kartik said, still chewing his food.

Just then, Utkarsh came downstairs, dressed neatly. Deepali noticed and asked, “Where are you going all dressed up?”

“Maa, it’s my friend Kaiz’s birthday today. I told you in the morning,” he replied.

“Oh yes,” Deepali said, smiling faintly. “I’d forgotten. Go on, enjoy yourself.”

Afternoon

The day after the Roys’ cheerful celebration, the Bajaj mansion was wrapped in its usual calm. Yamini Bajaj sat on the veranda, sipping her tea and fanning herself lazily. The faint sound of laughter drifted in from the neighboring Roy house — faint, but impossible to ignore.

“Hmm,” Yamini murmured, squinting toward the balcony next door where colourful balloons still hung.

Just then, Mrs. Mehra, the neighborhood’s most devoted gossip-bearer, stopped by the gate.
“Yamini ji! Did you see the Roys yesterday?” she began, excitement bubbling in her voice.
“They celebrated Anwesha’s birthday — such a big party! So many guests, and that cake—arre wah! The aroma of Payesh was reaching till our lane!”

Yamini froze, teacup midair. “What? Anwesha’s birthday?”
Mrs. Mehra nodded proudly, pleased to have delivered prime news. “Yes, yes! Full celebration — music, lights, everything. Such enthusiasm!”

“Hmm…” Yamini’s expression turned thoughtful — and ever so slightly competitive. “Thank you, Mehra ji. That will be all.”

The moment the lady left, Yamini stood up with new purpose and marched inside.

Dhriti and Deepali were arranging freshly washed curtains when Yamini entered with that familiar glint in her eyes.

“Dhriti! Deepali! Do you know what I just heard?”

Both bahus paused, alarmed — the tone suggested either a family emergency or a neighborhood scandal.

“What happened, Maa ji?” Dhriti asked.

Yamini folded her arms dramatically. “Those Roys — they celebrated Anwesha’s birthday yesterday! Full party! Music, decorations, food! Everyone invited!”

Deepali blinked. “Oh… that’s nice, Maa ji.”

“Nice?” Yamini exclaimed, incredulous. “They think they can show off like that while we sit quiet? We should also celebrate something!”

Dhriti, trying to suppress a smile, asked gently, “But Maa ji, whose birthday is coming up?”

Both women exchanged quick glances, trying to recall. Then Deepali’s face lit up. “Only Vaibhav’s birthday is near — at the end of this month.”

Yamini straightened immediately, as if destiny itself had spoken. “Perfect! We’ll celebrate it grandly. I’ll show these Roys how Bajajs throw a party! Dhriti, start listing the guests. Deepali, think of the menu. Everything should be proper Marwari style — no less!”

The two bahus smiled knowingly, half amused, half resigned. Once Yamini Bajaj made up her mind, there was no turning back.

They had just begun discussing themes — gold drapes or red? live music or DJ? — when the sound of a door creaking interrupted them.

Mahendra Bajaj walked out of his room, adjusting his glasses, unaware of the brewing storm of planning.
“Yamini,” he called, “when will lunch be ready? I’ve been waiting since noon.”

All three women froze.

Yamini’s face changed instantly from fiery general to flustered housewife. “Arrey, I completely forgot about lunch!” she exclaimed, clutching her forehead.

Dhriti bit her lip to hide a laugh. “I’ll bring it right away, Maa ji,” she said quickly, hurrying to the kitchen.

Deepali followed, whispering as she passed Yamini, “So, Maa ji — first birthday plan or first lunch?”

Yamini waved her hand with mock irritation. “First lunch, then party! Even celebrations need food to begin!”

Mahendra, shaking his head in quiet amusement, muttered, “These women… one gossip from next door, and my lunch disappears.”

The house filled with laughter — and beneath it all, the first sparks of the Bajaj Birthday Battle had begun.

Hospital Parking Area

The clock struck past ten. The corridors of CityCare Hospital had finally quieted down. After a long shift, Dr. Mihiksha Roy stretched her arms, feeling the exhaustion seep from her bones. The night air outside was cool, the city lights blinking in the distance.

She walked toward the parking lot, heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, the smell of antiseptic slowly giving way to the faint scent of rain and petrol.

Just as she turned the corner toward her car, she froze.

Near the silver hatchback — her car — a couple was practically glued to each other.
The man’s hand was pressed against the car window, the woman’s fingers tangled in his hair. They were kissing with a kind of wild urgency that made Mihiksha’s jaw drop.

“Ugh…” she muttered under her breath, instantly turning around.
Seriously? In the hospital parking lot?

She waited for a few seconds, pretending to scroll through her phone, hoping they’d leave. But no — if anything, they seemed more... invested.

Finally, with a deep sigh, she turned back, marched toward them, and cleared her throat loudly.
“Excuse me!”

The couple startled, jumping apart like school kids caught by the principal. The man turned his face away, while the woman blinked, flustered and trying to fix her hair.

Mihiksha’s eyes narrowed slightly — and then widened in surprise.
The woman… she knew her.

“Anusha?” she blurted out. “We were in the same college, right?”

Anusha looked mortified. “Mihiksha! Oh my god—uh—hi!” she stammered, trying to gather her purse. The man beside her mumbled something under his breath and quickly straightened his shirt.

Before Mihiksha could even say another word, both of them hurried away — disappearing into the dark lane like a pair of guilty spirits.

She stood there for a second, blinking, utterly speechless.
Then she sighed, rubbing her temples, and unlocked her car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and shook her head with an exhausted smile.
“Kya kya log hote hain… hospital ke parking lot ko bhi garden bana diya,” she muttered to herself.

As the car rolled out of the lot, the faint hum of her favorite playlist filled the silence — and the night swallowed the scene like nothing ever happened.

Sneak peek-Chapter 5

“These are the profiles I have received,” the pandit said carefully, placing the pictures on the table. “I have spoken to Mr. Goyenka as well. He said their family would like to meet Vaibhav before the marriage is discussed further.”

Yamini’s expression hardened instantly.

“What is this, Panditji?” she said sharply. “We are the boy’s family. It is our place to visit first. How can they forget that?”

Dhriti and Deepali exchanged brief glances but remained silent.

“The boy’s family has always held the higher position,” Yamini continued, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument.