Bani's younger uncle and his wife couldn't help noticing the change in her. She was laughing more, speaking with confidence, and her dressing sense had improved. The transformation was obvious. A small flicker of jealousy crept in as they once again began talking about their own daughters.
"They should also get good opportunities like Bani," the aunt remarked. "She's earning lakhs now."
But they seemed to forget that their daughters were still in 5th and 6th standard.
Then Bani's younger uncle spoke a little firmly, "I also want to send my own daughter now—it's the right age for her to learn how to face society."
Bani's father's elder brother stepped in gently, choosing his words carefully so they didn't sound like a direct lecture.
"As for Bani, she got her chance through luck. Luck doesn't come often—when it does, we must embrace it. If such an opportunity comes for your girls, you can decide at that time. Of course, you will consider their wishes too, since you are their father."
Vani's father added with a smile, "And about Vani—yes, she is going to personality development classes, but only to build her confidence. She doesn't want to take the acting path like Bani. This is just her own choice."
The younger uncle shifted in his seat, trying to hide his envy, but the elder brothers noticed.
"Look," the eldest said gently, "both of us want the best for all the children. We aren't trying to keep anyone behind. Your daughters have just moved to the city; let them adjust. Focus on their studies first. Once school is finished, they'll be ready to take on these opportunities fully—and they'll understand and appreciate them more."
The younger uncle's lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to argue, but even he couldn't deny the calm certainty in their words. Still, jealousy clouded his mind, making it hard for him to see the care behind the advice.
Bani sipped her tea quietly, observing the unspoken dynamics. The elder brothers' patience, their ability to guide without hurting, and the younger brother's silent struggle—it was all part of the family's intricate balance.
The ride back from Bani's house was unusually quiet. Her younger uncle kept his eyes on the road, glancing at his wife from time to time, knowing she was fuming inside but trying to keep a semblance of calm.
As soon as the car reached their home and the engine stopped, the dam broke.
"Are you blind?" the aunt snapped, slapping the steering wheel for emphasis. "Did you see what they were doing? Laughing at us, showing off, talking about their children as if we've done nothing! You just sat there like a fool!"
Her husband opened his mouth to defend himself, but she cut him off with a sharp glare. "Defend yourself? Ha! You didn't say a word! Not a single thing! You let your brothers make us look like we don't know anything. Look at Bani—laughing, speaking confidently, dressed perfectly—and we're supposed to just smile and nod?"
He tried again, cautiously, "But… the elder brothers were only giving advice. They were calm—"
"Advice?" she scoffed, her voice rising. "They were teaching you a lesson! And you—sitting there like a country bumpkin yourself! Do you think just because you drive the car and pay the bills you can stand there quietly while your own children get ignored?"
Her husband sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's not that simple. They genuinely want what's best for all the children. They aren't competing with us."
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Genuinely want what's best? Don't make me laugh! They sit together, understand each other, make all the decisions. And you? You just follow along. If I had half their brains, our daughters would already be in the city, learning, preparing—like Bani!"
Her words were harsh, unfiltered, her jealousy spilling over in every sentence. "You don't see it, do you? You never see it. They're always united, always smarter, and you just… let it happen!"
Her husband remained silent, knowing that arguing now would only fuel the storm. He loved his wife, but he also knew this was a moment of venting—an outpouring of her insecurities and envy, directed at him more than anyone else.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the quiet of the city, Bani's father and elder brother's wisdom had already taken root—teaching patience, timing, and the subtle art of guiding children without force. It was a lesson the aunt would never fully grasp tonight, but her fury would simmer, shaping her thoughts and actions for days to come.
The day after the visit, Bani was busy revising lines from her personality class exercises. The house was calm, the sunlight streaming gently through the windows. Yet, far away in the younger uncle's home, the atmosphere was charged with quiet scheming.
The aunt had spent the night brooding. Every laugh, every confident gesture she had seen from Bani replayed in her mind. She whispered to her husband over breakfast, "We can't just wait for luck to fall on our daughters. Look at Bani—she got her chance by luck, and they all think it's natural! If we want our girls to succeed, we must take matters into our own hands."
Her husband tried to reason with her. "But they are still young. The elder brothers said clearly—they need time to adjust, finish school, gain knowledge. Rushing them now won't help."
"Adjust?" she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Adjusting doesn't earn them anything! Confidence doesn't grow by sitting quietly at home! I'll make sure our daughters get everything Bani has—maybe even more. And you? You better stand by and help, or I'll do it myself!"
Back at Bani's home, she noticed the tension whenever she spoke on the phone with her cousins. Something in the conversation seemed strained. Their laughter wasn't as free, their questions were sharper, more calculated. Bani shrugged it off at first, sensing the subtle differences but choosing to focus on her own growth.
Her father noticed her distraction and smiled knowingly. "Remember, Bani," he said, "some people react to others' success with envy, not understanding. Let them chase shadows while you build reality."
Bani nodded, absorbing the lesson. Her elder uncle had often told her, "Timing and patience are more powerful than force. Don't try to win by rushing; let the right moment come naturally."
Meanwhile, in the younger aunt's house, plans were taking shape. She had begun researching personality classes, city tutors, and even small acting workshops for her daughters. Her goal was clear: make sure her daughters appeared just as polished, just as confident, just as successful as Bani.
Yet in her single-minded pursuit, she overlooked something crucial—her daughters were still children. The foundation, patience, and understanding that Bani had gained through years of gradual exposure and guidance couldn't be replicated overnight.
And while the younger aunt plotted, the elder brothers maintained their calm, quietly ensuring that all the children grew at a pace suited to them. They knew envy would never build true confidence. Only guidance, patience, and timing could do that.
Bani, observing quietly, felt a surge of gratitude. She understood now more than ever that opportunities were rare, timing was everything, and wisdom often outshone frantic effort. She smiled to herself, ready to focus on her own path, letting the others chase what they could only imagine.