After I freshen up, and mom gives me cha, I feel so nostalgic.
As I watch my brother, Abhi, engrossed in his book, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over me. "What's the matter, Abhi?" I ask with a playful smile. "You, reading books?"
He looks up, a little embarrassed but also determined. "Well, I'm not as smart as you," he says, referring to my academic success, "but I want to pass this test."
I laugh gently, feeling a sense of pride swell in my chest. "That's the spirit," I encourage him. "And who knows, maybe you'll even surpass me one day."
He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he says, but there's a spark in his gaze that tells me he's taking it to heart.
I glance over at the floating, glowing rectangle Cuyle mentioned, It seems only I can see it. "What's that?" I ask aloud, though I suspect I already know.
"It's your status window," one voice echoed in my mind, It got me in surprise. "It will help you navigate your new life."
The rectangle flickers, showing various statistics and information. "Wow," I murmur, taking in the sight. "So, I can check my history and everything?"
"Everything," she confirms.
"So when's the test?" I ask Abhi, trying to keep the conversation light.
He blinks at me, his eyes wide. "What do you mean, 'when's the test'? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just... joking," I say, a little too quickly. "It's just today, right?"
"Yeah," he says, looking at me like I've lost my mind. "It's starting in an hour. Did you forget?"
I look down at the status window, heart racing. It's true, the exam is today. "No, no," I manage to say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Just checking. I'll help you get ready."
"Cuyle," I murmur, my eyes still on the status window, "why did you send me to the day of the exam without any preparation? I'm going to fail."
The window flickers and the same soothing voice that had comforted me earlier responds, "You are not alone, Master."
"But what do you mean?" I ask, desperation creeping in.
"I am with you," the voice says calmly. "I contain all the knowledge and memories you've accumulated until now. Trust in me, and I will guide you through this challenge."
I nod, trying to hold onto the semblance of calm that she's offering. "Okay, I'll do my best," I murmur.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"I don't have a name, You can call me, System, Status, or anything you like." She replies.
"Okay. Then from today, you are 'L'." I told.
"As your command." L replay.
I take a deep breath, letting her words wash over me. "Thank you, L," I say, giving the status window a nod of respect.
Abhi looks at me, his curiosity piqued by my sudden interest in his schoolwork. "What's gotten into you?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of suspicion and hope.
"Just remembering the old days," I say with a smile, trying to sound casual. "How about you let me help you study for the test today?"
He raises an eyebrow but nods. "Sure, if you think you can handle it," he says, passing me the book with a smirk.
"Okay then tell me the answer to the first question. Who wrote A Tale of Two Cities?"
As I open the book, the words on the pages seem to rearrange themselves into a pattern that makes sense to me. I glance at the status window and see 'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens, along with a brief synopsis.
"It's by Charles Dickens," I say with confidence, watching Abhi's eyes widen. "And it's a great story. It's about love, sacrifice, and the power of resilience during the French Revolution."
Abhi stares at me, his mouth hanging open. "How do you know all this?" he asks, his voice filled with wonder.
"Well," I say, tapping my head, "I guess I just have a good memory."
He laughs, a little embarrassed, and goes back to studying. But I can see the spark of interest in his eyes, the beginnings of a bond forming between us.
"Hey Abhi," I say, my voice casual as I sit beside him, watching him struggle with his homework.
He looks up, his eyes weary from his late-night study session. "What's up, bro?"
"I noticed you're having a bit of trouble with the book," I say, nodding towards 'A Tale of Two Cities'.
"Yeah," he sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I just can't seem to remember who wrote it."
"Forget about that," I say, trying to sound dismissive. "That's not even going to be on the test."
Abhi looks at me quizzically, his brow furrowed. "How do you know?"
"I just have a hunch," I reply with a knowing smile. "But tell me, what do you think about the themes of the book?"
Abhi pauses, his mind racing to remember the discussions we had in the past. "It's about the French Revolution," he starts, his voice gaining momentum. "And the contrast between the lives of people in Paris and London. And how love and sacrifice can bring people together in the darkest of times."
I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and guilt. This was a moment from my past that I had never experienced, and now, thanks to Cuyle, I had the chance to share it with my brother. "That's right," I say, patting him on the back. "You're going to do great on this test, Abhi. Just focus on those themes and you'll be fine."
He smiles, a hint of doubt in his eyes. "Thanks, Jain," he says. "I'll do my best."
As I watch him study, the gravity of my situation starts to sink in. The knowledge I possess isn't just for my benefit; it's a gift that can help my brother, too.
We quickly get dressed and leave the warm embrace of our home, our mother's loving wishes trailing us as we step into the cool morning. The feeling of nostalgia hits me like a wave when we enter the school gates. The memories are so vivid that a tear escapes my eye.
One firm slam on my back jolts me back to the present. "What's up, space cadet?" Dev's familiar voice echoes through the corridor, his grin wide.
"Just remembering old times," I reply with a chuckle.
"Let's go," Abhi says, his voice filled with the excitement of a child who's eager to prove himself. "The test is about to start."
"Don't worry," I tell Dev, slapping him on the shoulder. "You're going to do fine. We've all got this."
"Thanks," Dev says, though his voice is tinged with doubt. "But what about you, Abhi?"
"I'm okay," Abhi replies, his confidence bolstered by our shared study session.
"That's my boy," I say proudly, ruffling his hair.
"Just remember Abhi, the Last question answer is option 4." I whisper into his ear.
"What?"
"Nothing, Let's go."
The bell rings, signaling the start of the test. As we take our seats, I shoot a grateful look towards the invisible 'L'. Without her, I'd be just as lost as Dev and Abhi. But with her help, I feel like I can conquer the world, or at least pass a high school exam.
Everyone look so nervous. Techer come and give us paper. and bell ring and exam start.
The classroom falls into a hushed silence as the teacher walks in, the rustling of papers and shuffling of feet the only sounds.
"Good morning, class," Mr. Sharma says, his voice stern as he places the exam papers on each desk. "You have three hours to complete this test. No talking, no passing notes, and no leaving the room without permission."
The tension in the room is palpable, each student's heart racing. I glance over at Abhi, who looks like he's about to burst with anxiety. I give him a reassuring nod, trying to convey my belief in him.
The bell rings out, piercing the quiet. It's a cue that sends everyone's pens to paper, scribbling away. I watch as Dev bites his lip, his brow furrowed in concentration. It's strange, knowing all the answers while everyone else struggles. But I can't let them know that. This is their test, their challenge to overcome.
I take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The words on the paper blur for a moment before snapping back into focus. The questions are straightforward, but I know that's not what's really important here. It's the journey, the experience of helping them grow and learn.
And with that thought in mind, I dive into the exam, ready to face whatever comes my way.
As the clock ticks down, Abhi's eyes dart around the room, his expression growing more and more confused. He catches my gaze and holds up two fingers, his eyes questioning.
I understand immediately. He's stuck on question eleven, asking for the author of 'A Tale of Two Cities'. He just read this morning he still forgot. With a small smile, I hold up three fingers in response. It's a simple gesture for no 13, It's a question about Charles Dickens.
Abhi's face lights up with relief, and he scribbles down 'Charles Dickens' on his paper. He shoots me a grateful look, and I give him a nod of encouragement. The bond between us feels stronger than ever, and I'm reminded of the responsibility that comes with the gift of knowledge.
The rest of the exam goes smoothly, with 'L' providing subtle hints when needed. The bell finally rings, signaling the end.
"Pen down," Mr. Sharma calls out, collecting the papers. "Good luck, everyone."
The class collectively sighs with relief, the tension dissipating like smoke in the wind. As we file out of the room, Abhi grabs my arm, his eyes shining. "Thanks, bro," he whispers. "Couldn't have done it without you."
"No problem," I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Let's go grab some lunch and celebrate."
The three of us - Abhi, Dev, and I - head to the school's canteen, the aroma of samosas and chai filling the air. It's a simple pleasure, one that feels infinitely more precious than any of the material things I could've wished for.
As we sit down, I can't help but think about the future that lies ahead, filled with possibilities and the promise of a new path. The journey isn't going to be easy, but with 'L' by my side and the love of my family, I'm ready to face whatever comes my way.
Over lunch, the buzz of conversation fills the cafeteria. Most of the students are discussing the difficulty of the exam, some complaining, others feeling hopeful. Abhi's eyes dart around, trying to catch bits of information.
"The paper was so hard!" A girl named Ruchika says to her friends, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips.
"Yeah," another student agrees, "especially that last question on the French Revolution!"
"The last question was totally a trick," Dev chimes in, his eyes widening. "Someone said the answer's number three."
Abhi's eyes meet mine, and he frowns. "But you said it was number four," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the clatter of plates and cutlery.
"Yes," I reply with a knowing smile, "it is."
With a glint in his eye, Abhi stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. He makes his way to the group, his book tucked under his arm. I watch, amusement bubbling up inside me, as he confidently tells them, "You're wrong. The answer is number four, not three."
The group looks at him, surprised, but when they check their papers, they realize he's right. The cafeteria erupts in laughter, and Abhi's cheeks turn a bright shade of red.
"Thanks, bro," he says, sliding back into his seat, his voice filled with excitement. "You totally saved me."
"It's nothing," I reply, trying to downplay my involvement. "Just remember, knowledge is power."
The three of us share a laugh, the sound echoing through the crowded room. It's a small victory, but one that feels monumental. In this moment, I realize that perhaps the most significant wishes I could've made were the ones that brought me closer to the people who truly matter.
After the exhaustion of the exam, I make my way home with Abhi and Dev, feeling more like myself than I have in years. The evening sun casts a warm glow over the city as we walk, and I can't help but feel a sense of peace settle over me.
When we reach the apartment, I head straight to the shower, eager to wash off the stress of the day. Looking at my reflection, I can't help but notice the stark contrast between my current state and the one from this morning. "Euuu," I murmur, taking in my slim frame and terrible haircut. "What happened to me?"
Mom has already set the table with a feast of homemade food - roti, dal, and a special surprise of chicken biryani. The aroma fills the room, making my stomach growl. "Abhi," she calls out, "go take your shower. Dinner's almost ready."
"But Mom, I'll do it at night," he protests, his eyes on the food.
"No," I say, chuckling. "Do as she says. She's not going to let you eat without getting clean."
Mom chuckles, shaking her head. "Why do you talk like that?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You're just a kid."
"It's just something I picked up," I say with a shrug. It's a close call. I'm not really a kid anymore, but I can't reveal my true age.
"Well, sit down," she says, gesturing to the table. "You both must be starving."
I take a seat, the warmth of the room enveloping me like a comforting blanket. As I reach for a roti, I feel a sense of belonging, of being exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"Thanks, Mom," I say, my voice filled with genuine gratitude.
"What for?" she asks, her eyes twinkling.
"For everything," I reply, my gaze drifting to Abhi. "For giving me a second chance to get it right."
The room falls silent, the only sound the clinking of spoons against plates. And in that moment, I know that no matter what challenges the future holds, I have the support of the people who mean the most to me.