In the days that followed, Rahul stayed home diligently, barely stepping out of his apartment as he focused entirely on editing his videos.
First, he released the complete follow-up to Samina's story—the dramatic rescue at the police station and the coffee shop farewell. A few days later, he released Anjali's arc, focusing on the amusement park date and the emotional goodbye at the Mutton Pilaf restaurant.
Finally, he finished editing all the footage of the twin sisters, Anisha and Anika.
These subsequent videos hit the trending lists on both YouTube and Instagram with explosive force. Rahul's subscriber count on YouTube surged past 450,000, and his Instagram following broke through 380,000.
Reaching this scale with only a handful of videos about Bangladesh was practically unheard of in the travel vlogging space. But Rahul knew exactly why it was happening: he had struck a massive cultural nerve with male netizens, and his striking looks had drawn in a fiercely loyal female fanbase.
He calculated that once the algorithms fully optimized the "Twin Sisters" episode, his total followers across all platforms would easily exceed 1.2 million!
During this intense editing phase, Rahul completely cut off social interaction. He checked WhatsApp briefly once a day, ignoring the barrage of messages from long-lost classmates and acquaintances.
Those "friends" who had tried to get close to his newfound fame gradually lost interest when he didn't reply to their group texts or private messages. Instead, they gathered in smaller, private groups to gossip about him behind his back.
In this society, there are far too many people who simply cannot stomach seeing someone else succeed. Kabir secretly reported all of this petty gossip to Rahul. But Rahul felt nothing. The moment he decided to become a public figure, he knew he had to endure the rumors and the jealousy. If you don't have a thick skin, you can't survive in the media business.
His plan was simple: after the house transfer was complete and the funds hit his account, he would return to his parents' home in Punjab. After spending time with them and returning their money, he would begin his next international journey.
That morning, just as Rahul was about to call Amit, the real estate agent, to ask for an update, his phone rang. It was Amit.
"Rahul sir, the paperwork has cleared. It's time for the final transfer."
"Are you at the office? I'll come down now."
Ten minutes later, Rahul was sitting in the back of an auto-rickshaw, bumping along toward the sub-registrar's office.
The prospective groom was already waiting near the entrance. Rahul was still wearing a surgical mask, but the honest man buying the house suddenly became inexplicably excited when he saw Rahul approach.
He had clearly watched the videos Rahul had posted.
As Rahul walked up, the man practically bounced on his heels. "Bhai! I saw your videos! I can't believe the guy selling this flat is actually you!"
"You are a literal legend for Indian men! Why didn't you marry that billionaire girl from Dhaka? She offered a 1.5 Crore dowry! If it were me, I would have signed the marriage certificate right there!"
Faced with the man's overwhelming excitement, Rahul just smiled politely behind his mask.
Amit and the man's pregnant fiancée looked incredibly confused.
"Oh, you don't know?" the man explained eagerly. "This is Rahul Bhai! He's a massive YouTube star! He has almost half a million subscribers!"
Amit's eyes widened instantly. The fiancée's expression shifted from her usual sour look to one of sudden, pleasant surprise.
Rahul, however, kept his cool. "It's nothing major, I'm just trying out vlogging. Don't worry about the internet stuff. Let's go handle the transfer."
But the man had already pulled out his phone, showing Rahul his YouTube app. "Bhai, I'm subscribed! Can we take a selfie? I swear, if I wasn't getting married right now, I'd pack a bag and go to Bangladesh too!"
Hearing this, Rahul felt a sudden, heavy burden settle on his shoulders. His fans watched his videos and actually wanted to imitate his reckless behavior. If someone got hurt or scammed trying to recreate his journey, he'd feel responsible.
It seems that after the Dhaka series is fully published, I need to do a live stream to set some boundaries.
Rahul pulled down his mask and offered a warm but serious smile. "Thank you for the support. A photo is fine, but please, do not imitate my trip. It can be very chaotic and dangerous abroad if you don't know what you're doing. It's better to focus on your life here."
The man held up his phone and snapped a selfie. The fiancée quickly nudged her way in, asking for a picture too. Rahul obliged politely, then immediately put his mask back on.
"Alright, let's head inside and finish the paperwork," Amit reminded them.
Two hours later, the final stamp was placed. That small suburban apartment no longer belonged to Rahul. The heavy burden of the mortgage was officially transferred from Rahul's shoulders to the honest man's.
With the down payment he had originally put down, plus the months of heavy EMIs he had paid, Rahul had sunk a lot of cash into the property. But after deducting the remaining bank loan, processing fees, bridging fees, and the agent's commission, Rahul only received ₹40 Lakhs in cash.
In this transaction, he had lost nearly ₹20 Lakhs in equity over the course of two years. It was a massive financial hit.
But Rahul felt a strange sense of freedom. He had cut his losses early; if he had held on to the falling asset, he would have bled even more money. He planned to transfer this money directly to his parents' retirement account the moment he got home.
As the group walked out of the registrar's office, the dynamic had shifted. While inside, the fiancée had spent her time scrolling through Rahul's YouTube channel. The initial excitement of meeting an "influencer" had vanished, replaced by a look of deep, visceral disgust when she looked at him.
Rahul, however, didn't notice or care. He hailed a cab and took the couple and Amit back to the apartment to hand over the keys.
Standing in the small living room, Rahul pointed to the simple furniture. "Alright, from now on, this is your home. I don't want any of this furniture; you can do whatever you want with it."
"Thanks, Bhai! This furniture looks solid, we don't need to replace it," the honest man—whose name was Aman—replied gratefully.
But his fiancée's expression soured instantly. "I don't want this secondhand junk! This is our new marital home; we are buying everything brand new!"
Rahul ignored her and looked at Aman. "I'll pack my personal bags and leave."
Rahul walked into the bedroom. He didn't have much left—just his travel backpack, his camera gear, and his laptop. Unburdened by ties, he slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and walked back out.
"Bhai, when is the next episode dropping?" Aman asked eagerly. "I really liked Anjali. She seems so pure, like a first love!"
Faced with a fan demanding updates in real life, Rahul offered a small white lie. "Soon. I'm heading back to my hometown to finish the edits."
Upon hearing Aman mention "pure first love," the fiancée jumped up as if she had been slapped.
"What 'first love' nonsense are you talking about?!" she snapped at Aman. "What kind of skill is it for a man to live off women's money? Aman, stop watching this useless garbage, do you hear me?!"
Aman immediately stepped forward, looking embarrassed, and tried to quiet her down. "Sorry, Bhai. She's just tired."
Rahul normally wouldn't bother arguing with a woman like this. He knew exactly why she was so angry. By showing Indian men the outside world—where women actually valued and spent money on men—he was threatening the financial leverage and the "rice bowls" of women just like her.
He was breaking the matrix.
Rahul turned to Aman, his voice calm but piercing. "Don't unsubscribe, Aman. My next trip is to a country with an even higher ratio of women to men."
"Remember this: Men have the right to see the world, too. And we have the right to be valued."
Without looking back at the furious fiancée, Rahul walked out the door, ready for whatever came next.