The highlighter in Vinna's hand had long gone dry, but she kept using it anyway, dragging the faded tip across lines she could no longer focus on. The textbook lay open like a battlefield—pages dog-eared, notes cramped in margins, and diagrams circled so many times the ink had bled through.

Her desk lamp flickered slightly, casting an uneven glow on the chaos. Outside, the city buzzed in its usual late-evening rhythm—horns, vendors, the occasional bark of a street dog—but inside their two-bedroom apartment, everything was silent except for the frantic scribble of her pen and the occasional sigh that escaped her lips.

"Beta, come eat something," her mother said softly from the door. She didn't step in. She had learned, over time, not to interrupt the rhythm of her daughter's frustration.

"I'll eat later," Vinna murmured, barely audible. Her voice was brittle.

Mrs. Basu watched her daughter for a few more seconds. She could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her jaw, the quiet panic in her eyes.

"She's only 21," she whispered to herself as she walked back to the kitchen. "Why do dreams have to be this heavy?"

Across the building courtyard, in flat 3B, Rishi Samtani leaned back on his chair, balancing it on two legs as he absentmindedly flipped a pencil between his fingers. He wasn't studying. Not at the moment. His JEE material lay in front of him, open, but his focus was on the music playing from his phone — low, instrumental, and steadying.

He liked nights like this. Quiet. No pressure from his mom, no calls from relatives asking "kitna syllabus ho gaya?" No distractions, no drama. Just a boy, his books, and the ticking clock.

He glanced at his physics notebook — not because he had to — but because he wanted to stay ahead. Physics was his comfort zone. The one subject he could always rely on. It made sense. It had rules. Life didn't.

Back in 2A, Vinna was at the edge of breaking again. She stared at the same concept diagram for the third time and still—nothing. Her NEET prep had been going fine until this chapter showed up like a wall she couldn't climb.

She finally closed the book with a frustrated sigh and whispered, "I'm not going to make it."

From the kitchen, her mother heard her. And this time, she didn't stay silent.

"Maybe you should ask for help," she said, stepping in gently. "You remember Mrs. Samtani's son, Rishi? He's also preparing. She once told me he's very good at physics..."

Vinna looked up, skeptical. "You mean the guy from upstairs?"

"Yes, that one. I'll message his mother—"

"No! That's—no. That's weird." Vinna flushed. Talking to strangers was bad enough. Asking one for help? A boy? A neighbor? Her anxiety was already rehearsing every awkward moment.

Her mother just smiled and left the room, already tapping out a message.