Bani's smile didn't falter. "Shame? Oh, I have plenty of it. That's exactly why I'm here—returning what doesn't belong to me." Her gaze shifted pointedly to Piyush's mother. "Speaking of which, where are my earrings? The ones you 'borrowed' for your nephew's wedding but conveniently forgot to return?"
Piyush's mother gasped, as though she'd been accused of a mortal crime. "Borrowed? Forgot? Are you calling me a thief?"
Before Bani could respond, her brother interjected, his tone light but cutting. "Let's not overreact. She didn't call you a thief. She said 'borrower with memory issues.'"
Piyush's mother shot him a glare sharp enough to curdle milk. "And what about the things you gave us? The chain, the plate, the… what do you call it? The luxury glass set! All given out of love—not obligation. Love!"
"Oh, the glass set?" Bani's brother smirked. "You mean the one I saw in your daughter's room last week?"
"In her room?!" Piyush's mother spluttered. "It's in storage! Safe storage!"
"Safe? As in around her neck and wrists?" Bani asked, feigning innocence as she crossed her arms.
Piyush's mother puffed up with indignation. "Now you're accusing me of hoarding! Is this how you repay us after we fed you, clothed you, and treated you like a queen?"
Calmly, Bani opened a folder from her bag. "Speaking of feeding me, here are the grocery bills from last year. Paid from my salary. By the way, I'd like that money returned—with interest. Or should I hand this over to the police?"