Sumaira's POV

As I packed my bags for Bangalore, my mother's voice echoed in my mind: "I knew that meri pyari gudiya would make me proud."

The past two months have been overwhelming. Losing my mother has left me entirely alone, and managing the demands of running the company while keeping up with my studies has been a constant struggle.

Raised in a middle-class family with an abusive father, my mother made the brave decision to leave him when I was young. We moved to Mumbai, where her relentless hard work eventually led to the success of her company. Now, with her gone, the weight of her legacy and the future of the company rest on my shoulders.

Every decision feels monumental, and the pressure is unrelenting. I often think about how she believed in me, but sometimes it feels like an impossible standard to meet.

If it weren't for Mamu, I would have been overwhelmed by the pressure. Though not related by blood, Mamu was like a brother to my mother. In this difficult time, while my biological uncle did not offer his support, Mamu stepped in to help. His presence has been a lifeline, guiding me through this challenging period.

Seeing how the demands of the company were affecting my studies, Mamu suggested that I complete my master's degree before fully taking over. He also appointed a trusted manager to oversee the company's operations in my absence, allowing me to focus on my education while ensuring that the business remains in capable hands.

And today was the day I was leaving Mumbai for Bangalore. I had been accepted into an elite college there, a new chapter that promised both opportunity and challenge.

The sudden ring of the doorbell jolted me back to reality.

I straightened my clothes and wiped my red, swollen eyes before opening the door. To my surprise, Tanvi Thapper and Kirti Gulati, my best friends, stood there, their faces bright with determination.

"You both came?" I asked, astonished. "I thought you might be busy."

"How could we miss the chance to see you off?" Tanvi replied with a reassuring smile.

Kirti nodded, adding, "But remember, we're not here to say goodbye. We're here to make sure you leave today with a promise to return after your master's."

After some time, it was finally time to leave.

Tanvi drove me to the airport. The drive was filled with a mix of laughter and quiet moments as we reminisced about our shared experiences and the times we had together. It was comforting to have her by my side, providing a sense of normalcy amid the whirlwind of changes.

As we arrived at the airport, the reality of the departure settled in. The bustling terminal was a stark contrast to the quiet, familiar streets of Mumbai I was leaving behind. Tanvi helped me with my luggage, and we headed toward the check-in counter.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Tanvi asked, her voice filled with concern yet brimming with encouragement.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. "I think so. It's just... everything is happening so fast."

Tanvi gave me a supportive smile. "You've got this. You've been through so much already, and this is just another step toward your future. Remember, we're all rooting for you."

We exchanged a heartfelt hug, her warmth a small comfort in the sea of unfamiliarity I was about to enter. Kirti joined us, and together they helped me with the final preparations before I went through security.

As I turned to wave goodbye, a mix of sadness and excitement washed over me. Tanvi and Kirti stood there, their faces a blend of pride and sadness, cheering me on as I walked toward the departure gate. Their presence had made this moment a little easier to bear, and I knew I would carry their support with me as I embarked on this new chapter.

With one last look back, I took a deep breath and stepped through the gate. As I walked toward my flight, I felt a strange sense of calm amidst the whirlwind. This journey to Bangalore was not just a move; it was a step toward discovering my own strength and fulfilling the dreams my mother had for me.

I sat in the flight, feelin' both excited and nervous. Leaving such good friends like Tanvi and Kirti made my heart sore but I knew that we'll stay in touch even though we are living a little far apart.

Tanvi belongs to a wealthy family. When I first moved to Mumbai I had nothing, I was a nobody. My mother had to work a lot to make the ends meet. She has been with me from all the happy and sad times

As the plane ascended, the cityscape of Mumbai gradually shrank below me, turning into a patchwork of lights and shadows. I gazed out the window, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of the change that lay ahead. The hum of the engines provided a steady rhythm, but my thoughts were anything but calm.

Bangalore was a new beginning, a fresh chapter that would demand a lot from me, but also offer opportunities I could only dream of. The elite college awaited, promising an environment that could propel me toward my goals. Yet, it was hard not to feel the weight of my mother's absence pressing heavily on my chest. Her voice, filled with pride and encouragement, seemed to linger in my memories, urging me forward even as I grappled with the enormity of my new responsibilities.

The flight attendants moved gracefully through the aisle, serving drinks and snacks. I accepted a cup of coffee, hoping it would offer a jolt of energy to match the whirlwind of emotions inside me. As I sipped the hot beverage, I reflected on the support system I had back in Mumbai—Tanvi, Kirti, and Mamu. Their encouragement had been a steady source of strength, and I knew their faith in me was something I had to honor.

The plane began its descent into Bangalore, and the city lights emerged against the dark canvas of the night sky. My heart quickened as I anticipated the arrival. This city, known for its tech industry and vibrant culture, was about to become my new home. I had heard so much about it, but experiencing it firsthand was bound to be a whole new adventure.

After a smooth landing and a brief wait at baggage claim, I finally stepped into the arrivals area. The air felt different—cooler, fresher. I spotted a driver holding a sign with my name and approached him. He greeted me warmly and helped with my luggage, and soon we were on our way to the college.

The drive to the campus gave me a glimpse of Bangalore's night life—busy streets lined with eateries, shops, and the occasional café. It felt like a city that never truly slept, and I hoped this energy would be a good omen for the days to come.

The cool night air brushed against my skin as I stepped out of the cab, the only light coming from a distant streetlamp. I gathered my bags and paid the driver, feeling the weight of the long journey.

"You'll have to walk from here, ma'am. The college doesn't allow any outdoor vehicles past this point," the driver informed me.

I sighed, trying to muster the last bit of patience I had left. "Alright, thank you."

I looked around. The street was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant city I had just seen through the cab window. The college was so close, yet I had to navigate this final stretch on foot.

Adjusting my grip on my bags, I took a deep breath. My traditional saree, a deep blue with intricate gold embroidery, felt like a comfort and a burden all at once. My long, dark hair was neatly braided, though a few strands had escaped, softly framing my face. As I walked, my fair complexion and the shimmer of the saree caught what little light there was, making me feel both elegant and out of place in the dimly lit street.

I had heard so much about this college, and now it was time to begin a new chapter. The mix of determination and apprehension I felt was palpable. This was more than just starting a new academic journey; it was about finding my place in a world that was both familiar and foreign.

As I approached the college gates, I could see the faint outline of the campus, a promise of new beginnings. I hoped that, amidst the challenges and changes, I would find a sense of belonging and a way to honor my family's legacy.

Here, in this new city, under a sky filled with stars and the faint hum of distant city lights, I was ready to begin my journey.

I went to my room, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. The door was ajar, and the space was empty, suggesting that my roommate had gone out. I pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

The room was modest but charming, with a large window letting in the soft, ambient light from the street below. I set my bags down and took a moment to soak in the new environment. The walls were painted a calming shade of blue, and a few pieces of simple furniture were arranged thoughtfully, creating a cozy, welcoming atmosphere.

I began unpacking my belongings.

After finishing up the unpacking, I took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and gather my thoughts. The room was beginning to feel more like my own, though the reality of my new surroundings was still settling in.

I glanced around the room, noting the small touches that made it feel more personal: a framed photo of my mother, a few favorite books, and a small plant I had brought along for a touch of familiarity. Even though the space was modest, it was beginning to take shape as a sanctuary.

The day had been long and emotionally taxing. The excitement of moving to Bangalore was overshadowed by the exhaustion of the journey and the weight of the transition. I was ready for rest.

I changed into my pajamas, feeling the comfort of the soft fabric against my skin. Climbing into bed, I adjusted the pillow and pulled the blanket over me. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, a small but welcome comfort amidst the newness of it all.

As I closed my eyes, I tried to push away the anxieties and uncertainties that had been swirling in my mind. Instead, I focused on the possibilities that lay ahead—new friendships, academic achievements, and personal growth. The journey to Bangalore was not just a physical relocation; it was a step toward becoming the person I wanted to be.

Gradually, the day's events and the emotional strain began to fade into the background as sleep gently pulled me under. I drifted off with a sense of cautious optimism, ready to face whatever the next day might bring.