The Topper and the Rebel

The sobs tore through me, raw and ugly. "I want to die!" The words escaped, heavy with the weight of a crushed dream. A week into college and I was already breaking. This wasn't the golden ticket I'd fought for; it was a prison of buses, exhaustion, and disappointment, all because my parents listened to the stupidest advice.

My friend Meera sat beside me, a comforting presence in the empty classroom, her murmurs of solace distant against the storm in my chest. I was trapped, falling behind, and the physical and mental strain was unbearable. My delicate assignment model, crushed by a stranger on the bus, lay in ruins on the desk—a perfect symbol of how everything was falling apart.

I just couldn't get up. I wanted it all to end. Then, through my tears, a figure appeared, a pair of hands resting steadily on the desk before me. A silver kada glinted in the light. I looked up to see Arjun, a classmate I barely knew, his gaze steady, asking, "What happened?"