Soul Swap: Trapped Forever

The car moved smoothly along the highway, the rhythmic hum of the engine creating a lullaby-like effect. The journey had been long, and exhaustion had crept into both Tripti and Sarvagya. As soon as she settled into her seat, Tripti had drifted into sleep. The unfamiliar weight of the sindoor in her hairline and the slight tightness of her newly worn chooda on her wrists felt foreign, a reminder of the reality she had stepped into.

Sarvagya glanced at her peaceful face, noticing the slight furrow of her brows even in sleep. Was she dreaming? Or was she simply too exhausted to keep up the walls she had built around herself?

Sarvagya, too, had intended to stay alert, but fatigue won over. The stress of the past few days—dealing with Sejal, handling the unexpected marriage, and now this visit to Tripti's parents—had drained him. The contract with Keshav had at least lifted one major burden from his shoulders, ensuring that financial worries wouldn't overshadow their honeymoon. For now, he wanted nothing more than a few days of peace with Tripti.

A gentle nudge on his shoulder pulled him back to reality.

"Sir! Sir, wake up." The driver's voice came through the fog of sleep. "We've arrived."

Sarvagya rubbed his eyes and straightened in his seat. "Huh? Already?"

"Yes, sir. And look, madam's parents are already waiting outside."

Sarvagya glanced out the window. The car had stopped in front of an opulent mansion, its grand gates wide open. A well-manicured lawn led up to the main entrance, where Rahul and Manorama stood, their expressions unreadable. The air was thick with expectation.

He turned to Tripti, who was still fast asleep, her head resting against the car door. A small smile tugged at his lips—she looked peaceful, unaware of the storm she was about to walk into.

Gently, he cupped her cheek and whispered "Tripti, wake up."

She murmured something incoherent and turned her face away, snuggling deeper into her seat.

Sarvagya chuckled softly and shook her shoulder. "Come on, sleepyhead. We're here."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she looked lost. Then, as realization struck, sleep vanished from her eyes. She straightened up, rubbing her forehead.

"We're already here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.

Sarvagya smirked. "Unless you want to sleep here all night, I'd suggest you step out."

Tripti sighed, rubbing her forehead. This was not a place she wanted to be—not because of any nostalgia or longing, but because she knew exactly how things would unfold. The author had created this world in a way that ensured Tripti had no real emotional attachment to these people. She wasn't walking into a warm embrace; she was stepping into an environment where expectations would press down on her like an iron cage.

Still, she had no choice.

Sarvagya had already stepped out and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. Without a word, he extended his hand. She took it, feeling the warmth of his grip—a silent reassurance. Together, they approached her parents, bending down to touch their feet out of formality.

Rahul, ever the traditionalist, greeted Sarvagya with a measured nod. "Welcome, beta. I hope Tripti didn't trouble you too much on the way here."

Sarvagya's brows lifted slightly. He turned to look at Tripti, then back at Rahul. "Tripti isn't someone who causes trouble, uncle. If anything, you should be asking whether she faced any trouble with us—she had to adjust to a new home, new people, and a marriage she didn't plan for."

Tripti suppressed a smirk. Sarvagya knew exactly how to hit where it hurt, and he did it so effortlessly.

Rahul cleared his throat, clearly taken aback. "Yes, of course… I just meant—"

Manorama stepped in to smooth over the moment. "He meant that we just wanted to be sure she is fulfilling her responsibilities properly. A daughter should never give her new family a reason to complain. I hope she's waking up on time, handling household chores?"

Sarvagya's expression hardened. "She wakes up at four in the morning, aunty, but let me clarify something—there are servants in my house who are paid to handle work. Tripti didn't marry me to become unpaid labor. She's my wife, not a housemaid."

Rahul frowned. "It's not about being a maid. It's about responsibility. A daughter-in-law should learn to take care of her home. After all, her in-laws' happiness should be her priority. We raised Tripti to understand that."

Tripti's hands clenched into fists, but before she could retort, Sarvagya stepped closer, his voice dangerously calm.

"Her in-laws' happiness? And what about her own? Does she not deserve to be happy too?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Why do you think women owe their lives to the people around them? Why is a daughter-in-law expected to adjust, sacrifice, and serve, but a son-in-law is treated like royalty?"

Rahul looked frustrated. "That's how it's always been, Sarvagya. We work hard outside, and women manage the home. This balance has existed for generations."

"Balance?" Sarvagya scoffed. "It's only balanced when both have an equal say in what they want to do. If a woman chooses to be a homemaker, that's her right. But if she's forced into it under the guise of tradition, that's oppression. If a man doesn't want to work outside and prefers staying home, would you be as accepting? Would you respect his choice, or would you call him weak?"

There was silence.

Manorama shifted uncomfortably. "Tripti, beta, let's go to the kitchen. Help me prepare lunch."

Tripti's lips curled in a wry smile. "But why, Maa? Isn't this your home? Shouldn't I be treated as a guest? Or do only men deserve that privilege?"

Sarvagya smirked, barely holding back his laughter.

Rahul sighed in exasperation. "Tripti, don't argue. You're a daughter-in-law now. You have to learn to manage things like this."

"No, Papa," she interrupted, her voice firm. "For years, you told me that my place is in the kitchen, that I don't need education beyond graduation because my real job is to take care of a home. You made me believe I wasn't allowed to dream beyond these walls. But I was allowed. I just never realized it."

She turned to Sarvagya, her voice softer. "And now that I do, I won't let anyone make me forget it."

Sarvagya gave her an approving nod before turning back to Rahul.

"Uncle, this isn't about disrespecting traditions. It's about giving women the right to choose. If Tripti wants to handle the household, I will support her. But if she wants to study, work, or follow any dream of her own, then she will. And I'll still support her."

Rahul exhaled sharply, as if this conversation had drained him. Manorama looked uncomfortable, clearly unused to being challenged this way.

Sarvagya exhaled, then said, "We're not asking you to change overnight. Just… think about it. You want respect for your values, but respect should go both ways. If you truly care about Tripti, then let her live—not just exist."

Tripti looked at him then, a silent "thank you" passing between them. He had said everything she had wanted to for years.

As they walked toward Tripti's old room, Sarvagya leaned in and whispered, "Enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Tripti chuckled. "Immensely. But I enjoyed you proving a point even more."

Sarvagya grinned. "I can't help it. These gender debates just get to me."

Tripti shook her head. "Debates don't change things. Actions do."

Sarvagya's expression softened. "Exactly. And I meant what I said, Tripti. Whatever you choose, I'll stand by you."

For the first time since she had been trapped in this story, she felt something other than frustration—hope.

This world had been written by someone else, but maybe… just maybe, she could rewrite her story.

For the first time, she wasn't just a character. She was a force.