3am in a small town is the loneliest kind of quiet — just me, a highlighter, and the fear of letting down people who sacrificed for my fees. Whoever else is awake grinding for something nobody can see yet: I see you. Keep going.

Comparison is the quiet killer in exam life — someone always cleared younger, studied longer, cried less. I've started closing the app that shows other people's results. My race, my lane, my timing. Still learning to fully believe it.

My parents keep getting proposals for me, and I keep saying 'after the exam'. The aunties whisper that I'm wasting my best years on books. Maybe. But I'd rather marry after I can look at myself with some respect first.

Missed the cut-off by 1.5 marks last year. One and a half. I know exactly which two questions I second-guessed and I'll carry them to my grave. But I've reapplied, because quitting hurts more than one more year of trying.

Third MPSC attempt, and the age on my Aadhaar feels louder every single year. Twelve hours in a Chandrapur study room where the fan is louder than my confidence. Some days the syllabus feels like an ocean and I've been handed a spoon.