Every morning, I stand near the window before the world wakes up.
The sky is quiet at that time. No noise, no pressure, no expectations. Just soft light and slow air. From this window, I can see people rushing, buses stopping, and dreams moving fast—except mine. My dreams are still learning how to walk.
I am not special.
I am not rich.
I am not lucky.
I am just someone who decided not to give up.
People think life changes suddenly. Like one big moment fixes everything. But for people like me, life changes in very small steps. One decision. One habit. One silent promise made at 2 a.m.
I come from a simple home. My parents never asked me to become famous or powerful. They just wanted peace on my face. And that hurts more than pressure. Because when you love someone, you want to give them more than peace—you want to give them pride.
I still remember the days when I felt lost.
No clear future.
No strong background.
No roadmap.
Just questions.
"What will I become?"
"Am I doing enough?"
"Why does everyone else look so sure?"
Some days were good. I studied, planned, smiled.
Some days were heavy. I woke up tired before the day even started.
But even on my worst days, I did one thing.
I showed up.
I went to college even when my mind said no.
I studied even when results were slow.
I dreamed even when reality laughed.
People don't see this part. They only see success or failure. They don't see the in-between phase—the phase where you are building something with shaking hands and a hopeful heart.
At night, when the house slept, I sat with my thoughts. That silence was loud. It reminded me of everything I hadn't achieved yet. But it also reminded me of one thing clearly:
I don't want to live a life where I quit on myself.
So I started writing.
Not because I was perfect.
Not because I was confident.
But because I needed a place to breathe.
Writing became my window when the world felt closed.
Every word I wrote carried pieces of my life—fear, hope, pain, ambition. I wrote about dreams that scared me. About responsibilities that made me older than my age. About wanting to succeed not for applause, but for the smile on my parents' faces.
Sometimes I wondered, "Does anyone even care?"
Views were low.
Likes were silent.
Support was rare.
Still, I wrote.
Because this story wasn't just for readers.
It was for me.
One night, after posting a chapter, I closed my phone and stood by the window again. The city lights were bright, but my room was dark. I felt small—but not weak.
For the first time, I realized something important.
I may not have everything figured out,
but I am not standing still.
And that matters.
Just as I was about to turn away, my phone vibrated.
One notification.
From someone I didn't know.
I opened it slowly, not expecting much.
The message had only one line:
"Your story feels like my life. Don't stop writing. Someone is watching your journey."
My heart skipped.
I reread it again. And again.
Before I could reply, another notification popped up—this time from an unknown email ID.
Subject line:
"We need to talk about your future."
I froze.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Was this real?
Was this a joke?
Or was this the moment everything begins to change?
I took a deep breath…
and opened the mail.
But what I read next changed everything.
✨ End of Chapter 1 ✨