The dimly lit one-bedroom apartment smelled of stale air and regret. Varun sat on the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the flickering tube light. His phone vibrated on the cracked table beside him. Another message. Another reminder of his miserable existence.
"EMI payment due in three days."
He let out a dry laugh. Three days? How was he supposed to pay when he barely had money for his next meal?
A Family That Never Cared
Varun was born and raised in Andhra Pradesh, in a lower-middle-class family that never considered him worth much. His father, Ramakrishna, was a bank clerk, a man who spent his life trapped in a cycle of routine and frustration, earning just enough to survive but never enough to dream. His mother, Lakshmi, was a homemaker—a woman who had spent her entire life serving her husband and children, but only one of them truly mattered to her.
His younger brother, Arjun, was the golden child of the family. An IIT graduate, brilliant, ambitious, and currently working for a top tech company in the United States. A son any parent would be proud of.
And they were.
"Arjun bought a house in California!"
"Arjun's company is giving him a bonus! Look how well he is doing!"
"Arjun is so lucky, he married such a beautiful and intelligent girl!"
Varun? He was just a shadow in the family.
After college, while his brother was getting international job offers, Varun struggled to even find a job. He graduated with an average finance degree and ended up working in a small finance company, making just enough to survive.
While his parents bragged about Arjun's success to every relative and neighbor, they never spoke about Varun. He was a disappointment—someone they tolerated but never acknowledged.
His father's cold gaze.
His mother's silent disappointment.
His brother's effortless success.
It was suffocating.
The One Who Left Him
The only thing that ever made Varun feel alive was Ananya.
They had been college sweethearts, inseparable, dreaming of a future together. She was his light in the darkness, the one person who made him believe he could be something.
Until she left him.
Her father arranged her marriage to a wealthy businessman, someone who could provide her with a secure, comfortable life.
"You don't understand, Varun," she had said, her voice filled with guilt but resolve. "Love doesn't pay bills. You can't afford me. I need security, a future. You… you can barely take care of yourself."
Her words cut deeper than any wound.
She was right. What future could he offer her? A life of struggle? A one-bedroom apartment and constant financial stress?
While she moved on to a life of luxury, Varun was left to rot in his reality.
The Daily Struggle
Every morning, he squeezed himself into overcrowded buses and reached his tiny, second-rate finance company, where his boss treated him like dirt.
"Varun, if you can't bring in more clients, why are you even here?"
"Your sales numbers are pathetic. Do you even want to work?"
"You're lucky we haven't fired you yet!"
Every day, he was insulted. Every day, he endured.
But why? Why was he even trying?
His salary barely covered his rent and bills. He had no savings, no dreams, no respect.
At 34, he had achieved nothing.
The Breaking Point
One evening, after another miserable day at work, Varun returned home and found a wedding invitation on his doorstep.
It was Ananya's first anniversary celebration.
A beautifully designed golden card. A mockery of his pain.
She had moved on. She had the life she wanted.
Varun clenched his fists as anger, regret, and exhaustion swirled inside him. His parents never cared. His brother was living the dream. The only person who ever mattered abandoned him.
He reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table and took a deep sip. The bitterness burned his throat, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
He looked around his tiny, suffocating apartment.
The peeling paint on the walls. The leaking tap in the kitchen. The pile of unpaid bills stacked on the table.
This was his life.
This was all he would ever have.
What was the point?
Varun walked to the balcony of his fourth-floor apartment and looked down. The streets of Hyderabad were alive—people rushing home, couples laughing, office workers grabbing a late chai.
They all had purpose. They all had lives.
And he? He was just an extra in the world's story.
He stepped onto the ledge.
For the first time in years, a strange sense of peace settled over him.
"Maybe in my next life, I won't be such a failure."
And then, he let go.
As his body plummeted, the last thing he heard was the distant sound of traffic—before everything went black.
End of Chapter 1
This version now aligns with Varun's background in Andhra Pradesh, keeping the emotions raw and impactful. Let me know if you want any refinements or if I should move to Chapter 2: His Rebirth in 2010. 🚀
4oYou said:no it should be his brother's first anniversery.ChatGPT said:Chapter 1: A Life Not Worth Living
The dimly lit one-bedroom apartment smelled of stale air and regret. Varun sat on the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the flickering tube light. His phone vibrated on the cracked table beside him. Another message. Another reminder of his miserable existence.
"EMI payment due in three days."
He let out a dry laugh. Three days? How was he supposed to pay when he barely had money for his next meal?
A Family That Never Cared
Varun was born and raised in Andhra Pradesh, in a lower-middle-class family that never considered him worth much. His father, Ramakrishna, was a bank clerk, a man who spent his life trapped in a cycle of routine and frustration, earning just enough to survive but never enough to dream. His mother, Lakshmi, was a homemaker—a woman who had spent her entire life serving her husband and children, but only one of them truly mattered to her.
His younger brother, Arjun, was the golden child of the family. An IIT graduate, brilliant, ambitious, and currently working for a top tech company in the United States. A son any parent would be proud of.
And they were.
"Arjun bought a house in California!"
"Arjun's company is giving him a bonus! Look how well he is doing!"
"Arjun is so lucky, he married such a beautiful and intelligent girl!"
Varun? He was just a shadow in the family.
After college, while his brother was getting international job offers, Varun struggled to even find a job. He graduated with an average finance degree and ended up working in a small finance company, making just enough to survive.
While his parents bragged about Arjun's success to every relative and neighbor, they never spoke about Varun. He was a disappointment—someone they tolerated but never acknowledged.
His father's cold gaze.
His mother's silent disappointment.
His brother's effortless success.
It was suffocating.
The One Who Left Him
The only thing that ever made Varun feel alive was Ananya.
They had been college sweethearts, inseparable, dreaming of a future together. She was his light in the darkness, the one person who made him believe he could be something.
Until she left him.
Her father arranged her marriage to a wealthy businessman, someone who could provide her with a secure, comfortable life.
"You don't understand, Varun," she had said, her voice filled with guilt but resolve. "Love doesn't pay bills. You can't afford me. I need security, a future. You… you can barely take care of yourself."
Her words cut deeper than any wound.
She was right. What future could he offer her? A life of struggle? A one-bedroom apartment and constant financial stress?
While she moved on to a life of luxury, Varun was left to rot in his reality.
The Daily Struggle
Every morning, he squeezed himself into overcrowded buses and reached his tiny, second-rate finance company, where his boss treated him like dirt.
"Varun, if you can't bring in more clients, why are you even here?"
"Your sales numbers are pathetic. Do you even want to work?"
"You're lucky we haven't fired you yet!"
Every day, he was insulted. Every day, he endured.
But why? Why was he even trying?
His salary barely covered his rent and bills. He had no savings, no dreams, no respect.
At 34, he had achieved nothing.
The Breaking Point
One evening, after another miserable day at work, Varun returned home and found a wedding invitation on his doorstep.
It was Arjun's first wedding anniversary celebration.
A beautifully designed golden card. A mockery of his pain.
His parents were so proud of Arjun and his perfect wife. They had organized a grand celebration and didn't even bother to call Varun personally.
They only sent him an invitation out of formality.
Varun clenched his fists as anger, regret, and exhaustion swirled inside him. His parents never cared. His brother was living the dream. The only person who ever mattered abandoned him.
He reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table and took a deep sip. The bitterness burned his throat, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
He looked around his tiny, suffocating apartment.
The peeling paint on the walls. The leaking tap in the kitchen. The pile of unpaid bills stacked on the table.
This was his life.
This was all he would ever have.
What was the point?
Varun walked to the balcony of his fourth-floor apartment and looked down. The streets of Hyderabad were alive—people rushing home, couples laughing, office workers grabbing a late chai.
They all had purpose. They all had lives.
And he? He was just an extra in the world's story.
He stepped onto the ledge.
For the first time in years, a strange sense of peace settled over him.
"Maybe in my next life, I won't be such a failure."
And then, he let go.
As his body plummeted, the last thing he heard was the distant sound of traffic—before everything went black.