The morning sun streamed into the dining room, casting a warm glow over the family breakfast. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of parathas, chutney, and sizzling samosas. But the peace was about to be shattered by the age-old sibling war.

"Bhaiya, nahi! Yeh mera hai! Aapne apna kha liya hai!" Afiya's voice, a mix of indignation and playfulness, rang out. She was pointing a finger at the last, perfectly golden, crispy samosa on the platter.