Chapter 2: Chapter 2
She was pulling ahead. The validation from Rohan and the team was a steady hum in her veins, but the real shift came on a Friday morning when her phone chimed with a notification. Her first official salary had landed: ₹45,000. It wasn’t just a number; it was a foundation. Combined with the ₹62,400 from her fitness clients and another ₹18,000 from the small software debugging gigs she’d picked up on freelance platforms, her bank balance felt like a physical force. It was freedom, solidified.
The idea had been simmering for weeks. On Saturday, she scrolled through listings for used Royal Enfield Bullets, the classic 350cc models. She found one, a 2018 model in matte black, owned by a doctor who’d barely ridden it. The price was fair. She transferred the booking amount without a second thought.
On Tuesday, she texted Rohan. Not the whole team. Just him.
The bike gets delivered tomorrow evening. 7 PM, outside my place. Want to come see?
His reply came faster than she expected. Sure. Send me the address.
The bike was already there when he arrived, gleaming under the streetlamp like a promise kept. Vanshika was standing beside it, one hand resting lightly on the fuel tank. She wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, and she looked utterly at home.
“You bought a Bullet,” Rohan said, his voice a mix of awe and something else. Concern, maybe. He walked around it, admiring the lines. “It’s beautiful. Congratulations, Vanshika. Really.”
“Thanks. I’ve always wanted one.”
“It’s a big purchase for a first salary,” he said gently, shoving his hands into his pockets. The mentor in him couldn’t help but surface. “Just… be careful with the money, you know? It’s easy to get carried away at the start. Building savings is important.”
She leaned against the bike, the metal still warm from the day’s heat. A slow smile touched her lips. “I know. I am being careful.”
“It’s just that on a starting salary, even a good one…”
“My starting salary is ₹45,000,” she said, her tone calm and factual. “But that’s not what bought the bike.”
He looked at her, his head tilting. The streetlight caught the confusion in his eyes.
“I have four in-person fitness clients,” she began, counting them off on her fingers. “That’s about thirty-two thousand, after the gym’s cut. Then I have two individual online clients and a group of seven for evening sessions. That’s another thirty thousand, roughly. And I’ve been taking on small software contracts—bug fixes, mostly, some automation scripts. That adds another eighteen or twenty thousand a month.”
She paused, letting the numbers hang in the humid evening air. “So all together, it’s a bit over one point two lakhs. After expenses.”
Rohan was silent. The kind of silence that was heavy with recalculation. His own salary, after his recent promotion to senior, was a solid ₹90,000. He was proud of it. It had felt like an achievement. He looked from her face, which was utterly serene, to the powerful machine she’d just paid for in cash, and then back to her face. The math was simple and utterly devastating. She wasn’t just keeping up. She was lapping him.
He let out a soft, breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You earn more than I do.”
Vanshika just shrugged, her hand stroking the bike’s tank. “It’s just money.”
But it wasn’t. It was a new map, and she was already drawing the lines.