Chapter One: The End of the Line
The third NEET result came in at 4:13 PM.
Rohan stared at the screen, blinking at the cold, impersonal red letters: “Not Qualified.”
It felt quieter than failure should. The fan hummed above him, spinning lazily like time itself had given up. Outside his window, life went on—vendors shouting, scooters coughing smoke, someone arguing about cricket. But inside, it was a vacuum. His body was in that room, but his soul… had slipped somewhere else.
Three years of his life. Gone in the endless loops of mock tests, sleepless nights, and that dull ache of trying to prove he was “worth something.” His parents hadn’t said anything yet—they were still at work—but he could already hear their silence louder than any words: “Maybe medicine wasn’t meant for you.”
Rohan wasn’t angry. Not anymore. Anger was too loud, too alive. He felt numb. Like someone had pressed mute on his emotions and left only static behind.
By 6:30, he had packed a small bag. Just his wallet, phone, and a single handwritten note folded inside his old biology notebook:
“Sorry. I tried.”
He left the house without telling anyone. Walked down the cracked lanes of his neighborhood, past the chai stall uncle who always greeted him, past the coaching center where his name had once been pinned under “Top Scorer – Mock Test 3.” He didn’t look back.
The station was nearly empty. Just a few people waiting, their eyes glued to their phones, their lives. The sun had dipped behind the buildings, painting the sky with streaks of orange and grey. The world was moving on. But Rohan wasn’t.
He stood near the edge of the platform, the rails buzzing faintly beneath his feet. A train would come soon. The last local of the evening. One step, he thought. That’s all it would take. Not even pain. Just silence. Rest.
And then—
“Don’t.”
A voice, raw and close.
Rohan turned, startled. A girl stood beside him, breathless like she’d been running. She looked no older than him, wearing a faded hoodie and clutching a small backpack like it held everything she owned. Her eyes weren’t curious. They were desperate.
“You drop that bag,” she said, voice cracking, “and I swear I’ll jump with you.”
He stared at her, heart thudding for the first time in hours.
“What are you talking about?” he muttered.
“I came here to do the same thing,” she said, eyes welling. “But then I saw you. And suddenly I couldn’t go through with it. Not if it meant watching someone else… someone like me… vanish too.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The train roared in the distance, headlights cutting through the dusk.
Two strangers. One moment. One choice.
And just like that, what was supposed to be the end… became something else. A pause. A question.
Maybe even a beginning.
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