### **Chapter 2: The Pressure of Expectations**
The smell of hot parathas and fresh tea greeted Raghav as he descended the narrow staircase, his feet moving almost mechanically as he followed the familiar path to the dining area. His stomach grumbled in anticipation, a strange feeling given the storm of thoughts still swirling in his head. How could everything feel so… normal? So routine? The warm breakfast, the distant sounds of car horns blaring, and the sight of his family going about their morning as if nothing had changed.
But for him, everything had changed.
He pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table, his mind still lost in a haze. His mother bustled around the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she placed a plate of parathas in front of him. The smell was mouthwatering, but Raghav could barely muster a smile.
"Eat up, Raghav," she said with a gentle smile, her voice filled with the casual warmth of years of habit. "You've got a long day ahead of you. Don't forget you've got a mock test coming up soon. And your tutor is coming over at three. We'll need to pick up your scores if you want to crack the entrance exams."
Raghav stared at the plate, his appetite dulled by the weight of those words. The exams. Of course. In this world, they were the ultimate goal, the path to success, and the measure of your worth. Raghav's new memories painted a bleak picture—endless hours spent studying, cramming formulas, facts, and figures into a mind already stretched thin by pressure. And now, it seemed, that was his reality.
"Right," he mumbled, reaching for the food more out of habit than hunger.
As he ate in silence, his mother sat down across from him, sipping her tea. "You've been doing well lately," she said, her voice laced with both encouragement and caution. "But we need to stay focused. This is your future, after all. No distractions. I know it's hard, but once the exams are over, you'll have all the time in the world to relax."
Raghav nodded, though her words barely registered. The expectations of this life were suffocating. He could feel the weight of them pressing down on him, demanding that he perform, that he excel. The memory of long nights spent poring over textbooks and practice tests was still fresh, even though they weren't truly *his* memories. It was like stepping into someone else's shoes and finding them too tight, too constricting.
"Mom, can I ask you something?" he said suddenly, setting down his fork.
His mother looked up from her tea, a curious expression on her face. "Of course, beta. What is it?"
Raghav hesitated, the words forming slowly in his mind. How could he explain what he was feeling? How could he make sense of the fact that he was someone else in a world where no one would ever believe him? Instead, he went for something simpler.
"Do you ever… wonder if all of this is worth it?" he asked, his voice quiet but sincere. "The exams, the studying, the pressure… what if we're all just chasing something that doesn't really matter?"
His mother frowned slightly, clearly taken aback by the question. "Where is this coming from, Raghav? Of course, it's worth it. This is your future we're talking about. The exams are your ticket to a good college, and a good college leads to a stable career. That's what matters, isn't it?"
Raghav looked away, unsure of how to respond. Was it really that simple? Was this life—the grind, the endless pursuit of success—really all there was? In his past life, he couldn't remember if he had chased the same goals. All he knew was that the world he was in now seemed to revolve around one thing: making it through the next hurdle, the next test.
"I guess," he muttered, not wanting to press the issue further. He had no idea how to explain what was gnawing at him from the inside, how out of place he felt in this life of exams and expectations. He finished his breakfast in silence, pushing down the rest of his thoughts.
***
After breakfast, Raghav found himself back in his bedroom, staring at the textbooks that lay scattered across his desk. The clock ticked away, reminding him that time was always running out. His mother's words echoed in his head: *No distractions. This is your future.*
He sighed and sat down, opening one of the thick textbooks. It was filled with equations, formulas, and diagrams that made his head spin. Raghav knew the material—at least, Raghav Mehta did. The new memories in his head provided all the information he needed, but he couldn't summon the energy to care. What was the point?
His eyes drifted toward the window, where the afternoon sun streamed in, casting golden light across the room. Outside, he could hear the faint sounds of children playing, their laughter carrying through the air like a distant melody. A pang of longing stirred in his chest, the desire for something more than this monotonous routine.
But what? What could he possibly do in this world? This was no fantasy where he could find a magical power or embark on a grand adventure. No secret systems or skills had come with his reincarnation. There was only this life—the life of a seventeen-year-old student burdened by the expectations of everyone around him.
With a frustrated groan, Raghav leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. His mind drifted, replaying the events of the morning over and over. He had never asked for this. Reincarnation was supposed to be a fresh start, wasn't it? A chance to live again, maybe even live better. But here he was, stuck in a world that felt suffocatingly mundane.
His phone buzzed on the desk, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen. It was a message from his friend, Rajat.
**Rajat**: Hey bro, coming to the library later? Need help with some physics stuff.
Raghav stared at the message for a moment, his fingers hovering over the screen. Rajat. He knew him well from Raghav's memories. A classmate, a friend, someone who shared the same burden of expectations and exams. But today, Raghav couldn't find it in himself to care about physics or study sessions.
**Raghav**: Can't today. Got stuff to do.
He sent the message and tossed the phone onto the bed, feeling a pang of guilt. Rajat was probably struggling as much as he was, but what could he do? He didn't even know how to handle his own life, let alone help someone else with theirs.
The hours ticked by slowly as Raghav tried to focus on his studies, but his mind kept wandering. The equations blurred together, and his thoughts spiraled deeper into confusion. The pressure of this life, the weight of expectations—it was all too much. He had been given a second chance, but for what? To relive the same stresses and struggles as before?
As the afternoon wore on, Raghav found himself standing by the window, watching the world go by outside. The laughter of the children had faded, replaced by the low hum of the city. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, a deep sigh escaping his lips.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered to himself. "What's the point of all this?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
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