### **Chapter 1: A New Beginning**
Darkness. That's all there was—an empty, suffocating abyss that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. No sound, no sensation, just nothingness. It was as though time had stopped, or maybe it had never existed in the first place.
Then, all at once, there was a flicker. A distant pulse, like the faint hum of something forgotten. Slowly, it grew louder, sharper, until it felt like a hand was pulling him up, dragging him out of the void. Light pierced through the darkness, and with it came a rush of sensation that nearly overwhelmed him.
He gasped, his chest heaving as if it had been starved for air. His eyes shot open, and the blinding brightness of daylight greeted him. He blinked rapidly, his heart hammering in his chest, every muscle tense as though his body had been jolted awake from a long slumber.
He was alive. But how?
He tried to sit up, his body feeling foreign and unsteady, as if the very act of moving was something he had to relearn. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—small cracks ran along the plaster, and a ceiling fan spun slowly, creaking with every lazy turn. The sound of distant traffic buzzed through the half-open window, mingling with the chirping of birds and the faint hum of city life.
He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. It was a small bedroom, cluttered but lived-in. Textbooks were strewn across the floor, some open, pages dog-eared and marked with highlighter. A worn desk sat by the window, cluttered with papers, pens, and what looked like exam study guides. His gaze lingered on a calendar pinned to the wall—it was May, just a few weeks before exam season.
Confusion settled in his chest like a heavy stone. Where was he? This room was familiar, but at the same time, it wasn't. He recognized the desk, the textbooks, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air… but this wasn't his life. Not *his* life.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him as he tried to steady himself. His mind was racing, fragments of memory crashing into each other like waves in a storm. His heart pounded louder with each passing second.
Then, it hit him all at once.
He wasn't who he used to be.
His breath caught in his throat as the realization settled over him. He had lived before. A full life, with its ups and downs, its triumphs and regrets. And yet, here he was, alive again, in a different body, a different life. His hands trembled as he stared down at them—slender, youthful hands, the hands of a boy.
"A boy," he muttered under his breath. "I'm… seventeen?"
The memories of this new life, *this* body, began to unfurl like a coiled thread. His name was Raghav Mehta, a seventeen-year-old student in his final year of high school. He was preparing for his board exams, an event that apparently held the weight of the world in this new reality. His mind struggled to reconcile the knowledge of his past self with the experiences of Raghav. They were both him, but also not him.
He stood up, his legs shaky, and walked toward the mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection that stared back at him was a stranger. A boy with messy black hair, slightly tanned skin, and eyes that still held the remnants of adolescence. Brown eyes, deep and curious, but carrying the weight of something older, something more knowing.
Raghav Mehta. That's who he was now.
But deep down, he still felt like the person he had been before, whoever that was. His past life was a blur—he could remember vague details, but nothing concrete. He knew he hadn't been a teenager preparing for exams. He had lived a different life, maybe even a full one. But now…
"What the hell is this?" Raghav muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He had no powers, no cheats, no extraordinary abilities that typically came with reincarnation in the stories he vaguely recalled. This wasn't some fantastical world where he could start anew with an advantage.
This was just… reality.
A sense of frustration and disbelief gnawed at him. What was the point of being reincarnated if there was no special system, no magic, no quest to save the world? He was just a regular boy in a regular world, with nothing but the knowledge of a life that no longer existed.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked open, and a woman peeked in. "Raghav? Are you awake?" she asked gently, her voice warm and familiar.
He blinked, recognizing her instantly—his mother. Well, *Raghav's* mother. She looked just like he remembered from the fragmented memories of this life. A kind face, slightly weary from years of taking care of the household, but her smile was as comforting as the morning light.
"Breakfast is ready," she added, her smile widening. "Don't forget, you have tutoring later."
Tutoring. Right. Because apparently, Raghav Mehta needed all the help he could get for these looming exams.
"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," Raghav replied, surprised at how naturally the words came out. It was as if his body had already adjusted to this life, while his mind was still catching up.
As she left, closing the door behind her, Raghav sat back down on the bed, running a hand over his face. The weight of the situation was beginning to sink in. He was alive, but in someone else's life. He had no grand mission, no hidden powers to unlock. Just school, exams, and the pressure to live up to the expectations of this new world.
Raghav Mehta was expected to ace his exams, get into a good college, and make something of himself in the eyes of society. It was mundane, ordinary, and painfully real.
He stood up again, this time heading to the small bathroom attached to the bedroom. The cold splash of water on his face did little to calm his racing thoughts. Staring at himself in the mirror again, he felt an odd sense of detachment. The boy in the reflection was him, but he also wasn't.
"What now?" he asked himself softly. "What's the point of this?"
No answer came, of course. There was no mysterious voice guiding him, no higher power to explain why he had been given a second chance. Just silence.
With a sigh, Raghav dried his face and glanced out the window. The city of Mumbai stretched out before him, vibrant and bustling. Life went on, indifferent to his inner turmoil.
"Alright, Raghav Mehta," he muttered to himself. "If this is it, then fine. Let's do this. No cheats, no powers—just you and your wits."
For now, all he could do was survive this ordinary world. And maybe, just maybe, find a way to make the most of this second life.
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