Episode 1

The screen of my old phone was cracked right down the middle, but the words in the email were perfectly clear.

Dear Ms. Riva Sahani, We are thrilled to offer you the position of Lead English Teacher at the Little Stars International Kindergarten in Seoul. Your visa sponsorship, flights, and fully furnished apartment are approved.

I had to read it three times before I remembered how to breathe. I pressed the phone to my chest, a massive smile breaking across my face.

I actually did it. My magical, silly animal stories had worked.

I am Riva. But in this house, I am just the eldest daughter. I am the one dragged into the kitchen by my mother to help with the endless cooking, constantly reminded that my cousin sister is already happily married and settled.

 I am twenty-four years old, and according to my family, my only real purpose is to make perfectly round rotis and eventually move into another kitchen just like this one.

That is the boundary drawn for my life. A safe, predictable circle that I am never allowed to step out of after 6:00 PM.

But today was different. I practically floated out of my bedroom, the printed offer letter clutched tightly in my hand.

As I walked downstairs, the familiar chaos of my house swallowed me. From the front courtyard, I could hear my father and my elder brother, Kabir, shouting instructions as they loaded heavy boxes of Haldiram chips and snacks for our family's wholesale distribution business.

Inside, the living room was just as loud. My sister-in-law, Neha, was running in circles trying to feed a bowl of dal to my two-year-old nephew, Aarav. On the sofa, my sixteen-year-old sister, Kavya, was glaring at her phone, while my twelve-year-old brother, Aryan, sat on the floor, looking completely defeated by his English textbook. He always struggled with reading, which was exactly why I had started inventing those interactive teaching stories in the first place.

I stood at the edge of the hallway, watching my father walk inside, wiping sweat from his forehead. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I just needed a little bit of courage.

It’s a massive salary, I told myself. A free apartment. A safe job. Once I tell them how much money I can send back home to help Aryan and Kavya with their studies, they will surely understand. They have to.

"Papa?" I called out softly, my voice trembling just a little.

He looked up, taking a glass of water from my mother who had just stepped out of the kitchen. "What is it, Riva? We have a large shipment going out today, make it quick."

I stepped forward, holding out the printed email like it was a piece of gold. "I got a job. A real job. As a Lead English Teacher at an international school."

My mother paused, wiping her hands on her dupatta. "A job? Where? At the local primary school?"

"No, Ma," I swallowed hard, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with my father. "In Seoul. South Korea. They are providing a fully furnished apartment, my visa, and the salary... Papa, the salary is enough that I can send money home every month. I can pay for Aryan's extra tuitions. I can help Kavya."

Silence fell over the living room. Even little Aarav stopped babbling. The air suddenly felt incredibly heavy.

My father didn’t even reach out to take the paper from my hand. His expression hardened, the exhaustion on his face turning into a strict, immovable wall.

"Seoul?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign and harsh in his mouth. "A twenty-four-year-old unmarried Sahani girl, living alone in another country? Absolutely not."

"But Papa, it's a safe facility! They loved my teaching portfolio. It's a huge opportunity to—"

"I said no, Riva," his voice boomed, echoing off the walls. "What will society say? What will our relatives think? That I cannot provide for my own family so I sent my eldest daughter across the world to work? Have you lost your mind?"

"I just want to build a career," I pleaded, feeling the hot sting of tears pooling in my eyes. "I want to do something different."

My mother stepped forward, her voice low and pleading, but not for me. "Listen to your father, Riva. Do not argue. You know very well your cousin sister just got settled. Your father and Kabir are already looking at profiles for you. We have a respected family coming to see you next month. A good, wealthy business family. Put this foolishness out of your head."

I stood frozen. The printed letter in my hand suddenly felt entirely worthless. Profiles. They were already planning to marry me off. They were going to pack me into a bridal lehenga and hand me over to another kitchen, to another strict set of rules, to another curfew.

"Go help Neha in kitchen," my father dismissed me, turning his back to walk out to the courtyard. "And I don't want to hear another word about Korea."

I didn't scream. I didn't throw a tantrum. I just slowly lowered my hand, turned around, and walked back up the stairs to my room.

I locked the door behind me and slid down against the wood, finally letting the tears fall. I looked at the crumpled acceptance letter in my hand. I looked at the strict, invisible boundary line they had drawn around my life.

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