Chapter 2: Life Inside the Coaching Centre

Life inside the coaching centre was nothing like what she had imagined.

From the very first day, she struggled to adjust to the strict routine where students were only allowed to study. The place felt less like a learning centre and more like a tightly controlled machine where every minute of the day was planned.

There was no entertainment at all — no phones, no games, no music, nothing that reminded them of normal teenage life. Even laughter felt out of place there.

Sleeping time was fixed. Mess time was fixed. Study time was fixed.

Everything was fixed.

The food made things worse. It was bland, tasteless, and often served cold. Every meal felt like a punishment rather than comfort. She would sit in the mess hall, staring at her plate, forcing herself to swallow each bite while silently remembering her mother's warm, home-cooked meals. The memory of those meals made her chest ache with homesickness.

Her classmates were always buried in books. They rarely spoke about anything except marks, ranks, and tests. Every conversation somehow turned into competition.

"How much did you score?"

"What was your rank?"

"How many questions did you get correct?"

Marks had become their identity.

In that place, students only had value if they had good marks. Nothing else mattered — not kindness, not effort, not emotions.

Even the janitor, while passing through the corridor with her cleaning bucket, would casually ask,

"What was your monthly mock test score?"

At first, she had been shocked. Later, she simply lowered her head and answered quietly.

There was pressure everywhere.

More pressure.

More frustration.

More sleepless nights.

Bathrooms were another daily battle. Long queues formed early in the morning, with girls standing silently, clutching towels and buckets, waiting for their turn. Each student was allowed only five minutes inside. Five minutes — no more, no less. Any delay meant angry knocks on the door and sharp warnings from the wardens.

Most of the day was spent sitting at the study table. They were allowed to leave only during meals, bathroom breaks, or sleep time. Even stretching for too long attracted suspicious glances.

Festivals came and went without celebration. No lights. No sweets. No laughter. Days that once brought joy now passed like ordinary, colorless hours.

Rules were everywhere.

Girls and boys were not allowed to mingle.

Juniors and seniors were not allowed to bond.

Friendships were discouraged. Conversations were limited.

It felt like living inside invisible walls.

Slowly, loneliness began to creep into her heart.

At night, when the lights went off and silence filled the dormitory, homesickness hit her the hardest. She missed her parents — her mother's comforting voice, her father's gentle encouragement, the warmth of her home.

Some nights, tears slipped quietly down her cheeks.

No one noticed.

No one asked.

In those lonely moments, doubts started whispering inside her mind.

Was she wasting her years here?

Was her dream of becoming a doctor worth this suffering?

Had she made the wrong decision?

Every day, people compared students — comparing marks, comparing ranks, comparing worth. It felt like a never-ending race where stopping even for a second meant falling behind.

The pressure kept building.

The frustration kept growing.

And sleep became a luxury she could rarely afford.

Yet somewhere deep inside her heart, a tiny spark still remained — fragile, but not completely extinguished.

A spark that whispered:

"You started this journey for a reason."

But whether that spark would survive the suffocating routine of the coaching centre…

She did not know yet.

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