As the years passed, change swept through our family like a tide.
My sister Shalini moved ahead with her higher education, stepping closer to the dreams everyone admired. I, on the other hand, was shifted to a new school, a place where everything felt unfamiliar. My brother Karthik became busier, buried in tuitions and studies, while my father grew more consumed by work. Everyone seemed to have a direction, a purpose, a place they belonged.
And then there was me.
I tried hard to prove myself, to show I could shine like Shalini. I pushed into things that weren't truly mine — subjects I had no love for, activities I didn't enjoy — only to convince myself and others that I, too, could be someone. I picked up hobbies, tried to focus on academics, even forced myself into my sister's path. But I wasn't good at either. I was average, neither excelling in studies nor standing out in anything else.
My family, worried that I was "too sensitive," restricted my outings. Little by little, my world shrank until it became just two places — home and school. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into years. I became, in a way, under house arrest. I told myself this was life, but deep inside, I felt something was slipping away.
My mother, Vamika, who had once been my quiet source of comfort, grew more anxious too. Her mind was always occupied with our futures, with what would happen to me, to Shalini, to Karthik. She worried endlessly, but her worry often came in the form of rules and restrictions.
And so, I drifted further into silence, into invisibility.
Time passed, and eventually, I completed my Master's degree in computers. But the degree gave me little more than a piece of paper. Rejections piled higher than my hopes. Every application I sent out seemed to return with silence, or worse, a rejection. My inbox became a graveyard of failed chances.
Each day began to feel like survival, not living. I began to believe I was cursed with bad luck — a failure in a family where everyone else was moving forward. Shalini had her education and career, Karthik his promise and ambition, even my parents their pride in the children who were shining. And me? I was just… there.
And then, finally, it happened.
I secured a job.
To outsiders, it might have looked small, but to me, it was everything — my first real chance, my time to shine. For once, I felt the weight lifting, the hope rising. I told myself this was the beginning of a new chapter, that maybe my life was finally ready to change.
On the morning of my first day, I dressed carefully, my heart racing with nervous excitement. Will this job change my life? Will they finally see my worth? The questions circled endlessly in my mind as I hurried toward the office.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice the world around me.
And then, while crossing the road, it happened.
I collided with someone, stumbled, muttered a quick "sorry," and looked up.
In that instant, my world froze.
The girl standing in front of me looked exactly like me. The same eyes, the same face, the same startled expression staring back. For a heartbeat, I thought I had stumbled into a mirror placed in the middle of the street.
A thousand questions rushed through my mind.. Who is she? Why does she look like me? What is happening?
But I didn't ask. I couldn't. As much as I wanted to stop her, to demand answers, there was something else pulling me harder — my job. My very first day. The one chance I had been waiting for, struggling for.
So I swallowed my confusion, turned my eyes away, and moved forward.
Yet the questions did not leave me. They followed me, clinging to every step, pounding louder with every heartbeat. Who was that girl? Why did she carry my face, my very existence, in hers?
I kept walking, but inside, I carried an uncontrollable storm of doubt, fear, and curiosity.
That was the day my life, which I thought was finally beginning, started to unravel instead.