I arrived in Bhubaneswar with a suitcase, a dream, and crippling self-doubt.

The auto driver dropped me in front of Allen, where a massive banner displayed smiling toppers with AIRs so low they probably had Einstein’s brain in their DNA. Below them, in bold, motivational letters:

"YOU TOO CAN BE NEXT!"

"Bro, I couldn’t even be last in my batch, let alone next."

Dragging my suitcase to my hotel, I noticed the city had two types of people—those who studied at Allen and those who profited from those who studied at Allen. Every shop was either a PG, a tiffin center, or a photocopy shop selling last year’s NEET papers at 10 rupees per page.

I checked into my hotel, a small room with a bed, a table, and a tube light that flickered like my confidence. The receptionist barely looked up. He had seen too many students like me—full of hope in June, full of regret by December.

As I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my phone buzzed.

MOM: Beta, settle ho gaye? Kal se mehnat start karna!

DAD: This is your last chance. No distractions this time.

I turned my phone to Do Not Disturb. Because if I was going to ruin my future, I might as well do it in peace.

Tomorrow, Allen Bhubaneswar. My final attempt. It’s time.

My first morning at Allen Bhubaneswar began with three alarms, two snoozes, and one realization—I'm already late.

I rushed to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and grabbed my bag, barely checking if I had everything. Running down the hotel stairs, I saw other students walking calmly toward Allen, like they had their lives together. Meanwhile, I was the idiot sprinting like I was late for a flight.

By the time I reached the classroom, the lecture had already started. I pushed open the door slowly, hoping to sneak in unseen.

Big mistake.

The physics sir paused mid-sentence, staring straight at me. The entire class turned to look.

"Ah, perfect. Nothing like social anxiety first thing in the morning."

“New student?” the sir asked.

I nodded awkwardly.

“First day and already late?” He smirked. “Must be a future doctor.”

The class laughed. I forced a smile, dying inside.

I scanned the seats—all taken. Except for one… in the front row. The danger zone.

With no choice, I walked up and sat down, feeling the heat of a hundred judgmental eyes. The sir continued his lecture, writing equations faster than my brain could process.

Within ten minutes, I realized three things:

I had no clue what was happening.

The guy next to me had already solved five questions.

This was going to be a very long year.

At the break, I overheard two guys talking:

“Bro, this year’s NEET paper is going to be super tough.”

“Yeah, AIIMS-level. Only 700+ is safe.”

I choked on my water. 700+? Safe? Bro, I just want 600 and a peaceful death.

As I left the class, I got my first reality check—Allen Bhubaneswar was not just a coaching center. It was a battlefield.

And I? I was the unarmed soldier.

After barely surviving the first lecture, I dragged myself to the canteen, questioning every decision that led me here. Second drop. Struggling already. Future not looking bright.

I grabbed a samosa and sat alone when suddenly—

“Bhai, first day?”

I looked up to see a guy with messy hair, a laid-back expression, and an Allen ID card around his neck. He sat down without waiting for an answer.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Same,” he said, taking a big bite of his samosa. “I’m Aarav. Bio is chill, physics is a nightmare, and chemistry is just vibes.”

I blinked. Someone finally speaking my language.

“Aree, why do you look half-dead?” he laughed. “First lecture?”

“Yeah.”

“Which sir?”

I told him.

“RIP, bro,” he said, patting my back. “First day, and you got roasted already?”

“Yep. Front row too.”

Aarav laughed so hard he almost choked on his food. “Bro, you’re living the full Allen experience on day one.”

For the first time that day, I smiled. Maybe I wasn’t completely alone in this battle.

But then, my phone buzzed.

MOM: Beta, padhai kaisi chal rahi hai? Kal se aur mehnat karna!

DAD: Remember, this is your last chance.

Just like that, the moment was over. The pressure came crashing back.

Aarav noticed. “Tension mat le, bhai. Sabke upar pressure hai.”

I forced a smile. He didn’t know the half of it.

No one did.

And no one ever will.