𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐚𝐣𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐗 𝐉𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧.
In a world that screams, I stand in despair,
My voice drowned out, lost in the air.
Chains of tradition tighten each day,
I long to escape, but I'm forced to stay.
Each breath I take feels...
Hello lovelies, I just wanted to clarify that the motivation for writing this story is not only fiction, but also to raise awareness of a sensitive topic. So you may feel bored with the first chapter, but I ask that you read the first ten chapters before deciding whether or not to continue. This is the first chapter of 'SECRET & SCARS'. Enjoy Reading and Don't forget to do comments & Votes.
Before starting, a question Have you read "Love Til Eternity?"
If not, go read the book; Vivaan is a supporting character.
Let's start.
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JHANVI
It was the start of a new semester at Mumbai Institute of Business and Commerce, a place where dreams met reality, where the wealthy rubbed shoulders with the hardworking middle-class like me. Getting into this university had been no small feat; it was the kind of place where most students came with silver spoons, their futures already paved with luxuries I could only dream of. But for me, every day here was a testament to my hard work and the sacrifices I'd made to reach this point.
I took a deep breath as I stood by the towering glass entrance, watching students pour in through the gates. Designer bags, branded clothes, the casual confidence that wealth seemed to bring-it was all around me. And yet, here I was, wearing my usual attire, carefully ironed and chosen to look professional but nothing like the casual opulence of my peers. There was a quiet pride in knowing that I had earned my place here purely on merit, as one of the few scholarship students. The pressure to excel was high, but so was the desire to prove myself.
I checked my watch. Ten minutes before class. I could feel a slight nervousness bubbling within, a mix of excitement and anticipation that came with every new semester. This year, I promised myself, I'd focus on building connections, getting involved, maybe even letting myself enjoy the journey.
As I walked toward the business department, my mind drifted to home. My family was supportive but cautious. They knew I was out of place among the children of CEOs and politicians, but they believed in me. My Mumma'swords echoed in my mind, as they did every morning, "Keep your head high, baccha. You've earned this."
