The bus shook as it moved to the rough road . dust came in through open window,but Sneha didn't bother closing it.She just held her books close to her chest and looked outside.the field stretched far on both sides,just like before.nothing has changed but Sneha had.she had left this village as a student .now she was coming back as daughter _one whose studied were over while her brother has just began in a big city she wasn't back because she is not smart enough she was back because she was a daughter.Sneha stood at her doorstep of her house watching her mother serve food the same mud walls the same old cot in the corner .it was as if she has never left but she had.she had seen the life in big city.A life she wasn't allowed to have.
Eat beta her mother said placing a plate in front of her.you must be tired after the journey .
She sat quietly she wanted to ask why him? why not me?but she already knew the answer .WE COULD ONLY EFFORD ONE
They had chosen her brother given him the better life and better school and better city but Sneha?she was back where she started.
Day passed but Sneha couldn't adjust .
In the morning she helped her mother with household chores.Scene: The Unexpected Offer
> The sun hung low in the sky as Sneha walked back from the fields, dust clinging to her feet. Another day spent helping her parents, another day where her dreams felt further away. She had accepted this life—or at least, she had tried to.
But fate had other plans.
A sleek black car stood at the edge of the village, its presence so out of place that people whispered in hushed voices. Sneha barely spared it a glance until the door opened, and a woman stepped out.
Dressed in an elegant saree, her sharp eyes scanned the village like she was inspecting something valuable. But when she spotted Sneha, she didn't just look—she observed.
"You," the woman said, her voice smooth and commanding. "You are Sneha, aren't you?"
Sneha hesitated. "Yes…"
The woman smiled, but it wasn't warm—it was calculating. "I've heard about you. Smart. Wasted potential. Would you like to change that?"
Sneha's heart pounded. No one had ever asked her that before. "What do you mean?"
The woman stepped closer. "I can give you a chance to chase your dream. But nothing comes for free. You'll have to work for me."
Sneha frowned. There had to be a catch. "What kind of work?"
The woman's smile widened. "You'll find out soon enough. All you need to know is this—if you come with me, you step into a world where the only rule is survival. If you win, you'll have everything. If you lose… well, let's just say, losing is not an option."
Sneha looked back at her village—at the small house, the fields, the same routine waiting for her tomorrow. Then she looked at the woman, at the open car door, at the unknown future in front of her.
For the first time in her life, she had a choice.
She took a deep breath. Then, with steady steps, she walked toward the carThe mansion was nothing like Sneha had ever seen before. Polished floors reflected the golden chandeliers, and the air smelled like power—like a world she didn't belong to. But she was here now. She had made her choice.
The rich lady walked ahead of her, leading her into a massive hall. At the far end, a boy sat slouched in a leather chair, flipping a pen between his fingers. He looked bored—like he had somewhere better to be.
"Rohan," the lady said. "Meet Sneha."
He barely glanced up. "And why do I care?"
Sneha's fists clenched. The arrogance in his voice made her skin crawl.
"Because she's your competition," the lady said smoothly. "The person standing between you and your family's approval."
That got his attention. Rohan's dark eyes flickered to Sneha, scanning her from head to toe. He smirked. "Her? You're joking."
Sneha lifted her chin. "You think I can't beat you?"
Rohan leaned back lazily, resting his hands behind his head. "I think you don't belong here."
Sneha's jaw tightened, but she refused to let him get to her. "We'll see about that."
The rich lady's smile was unreadable. "Good. I want both of you to fight like your life depends on it. Because in this world, only one of you can win."
And just like that, the war had begun.
Rohan sat in his father's office, his fingers tapping mindlessly against the desk. His father didn't look at him—not even once. He simply stared at the papers in front of him, his expression cold and unreadable.
"You will compete," his father finally said, flipping through the documents.
Rohan let out a slow sigh. "And if I don't?"
His father's hand stilled. The air in the room felt heavier. "Then you prove what we already know."
Rohan's jaw clenched. He knew exactly what that meant. He had heard it a thousand times, in a thousand different ways.
You're not like your siblings.
You're a waste of potential.
You'll never amount to anything.
"This is our legacy, Rohan," his father continued, voice sharp. "Your siblings have already made their mark. And you? You've done nothing."
Rohan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe that's because I don't care."
His father finally looked at him then. His eyes were filled with quiet disappointment—almost worse than anger. "You will do this," he said. "Because losing to that girl would be a disgrace."
Rohan didn't flinch, but something inside him twisted.
That girl? She wasn't even from their world. She was an outsider, a nobody. And yet, his family saw her as a threat.
He hated that.
He hated that they thought she might be better than him.
And more than anything, he hated that they might be right.
The city lights blurred as Rohan leaned against his balcony, earbuds in, lost in the beat of his own unfinished lyrics. His fingers tapped against the railing, following a rhythm only he could hear.
"They say I'm drowning in gold, but I feel broke inside,
Born with a name, but I got no pride.
They write my story, I don't hold the pen,
But I swear one day, I'll be me again."
He exhaled sharply, yanking the earbuds out. What was the point? No one would ever hear his words.
"Music isn't a career," his father had scoffed once. "It's a hobby for the untalented."
But it's the only thing that feels real.
Now, instead of chasing beats, he was being forced into this stupid competition—forced to prove he belonged in a world he wanted no part of.
And the worst part?
If he lost, it wouldn't just be his father's disappointment. It would be proof that they were right about him all along.
The city was louder than she remembered. Cars, voices, flashing lights—so different from the quiet nights in her village. But in all the noise, Sneha felt alone.
She had fought for this. A chance. A way out. But why did it feel like a cage?
The rich lady had given her an opportunity, but in return, she had taken everything else—her freedom, her choices, her voice. Every step Sneha took felt like she was walking on a path someone else had built for her.
She sat by the window of her small, cold apartment, staring at the city lights. She should have felt happy. She was closer to her dream than ever.
"You look like hell," Rohan muttered, leaning against the railing where Sneha sat, staring at the empty street below.
She didn't look at him. "I feel like it."
He smirked, but there was no teasing in his voice when he spoke next. "Thinking of running away?"
"And go where?" she asked, voice flat. "The village I left behind? The city that doesn't want me?" She exhaled sharply. "There's nowhere to go."
For once, Rohan didn't have a smart remark. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring out at the same dark street.
"Yeah," he finally said. "I get that."
She turned to him, surprised. The arrogance in his eyes was gone, replaced with something else—something familiar.
"What do you have to run from?" she asked, almost accusingly. "You have everything."
Rohan let out a dry laugh. "Everything but a choice."
Silence stretched between them. For the first time, they weren't competitors. They weren't enemies. They were just two people—two people stuck in lives they didn't choose.
"We're both trapped, aren't we?" Sneha murmured.
"Looks like it," Rohan said. Then, after a pause, "Might as well be trapped together."
But why did it feel like she was still trapped?
Sneha sat on the rooftop, hugging her knees as the city lights flickered below. Rohan sat beside her, phone in hand, earphones tangled around his fingers. He hesitated before speaking.
"You ever feel like… you have so much to say, but no one's listening?" he asked.
Sneha huffed. "All the time."
He smirked, then unlocked his phone. "Wrote something. About all this… the pressure, the expectations." He glanced at her. "Wanna hear?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You actually wrote something deep?"
"Shut up and listen." He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against his knee in rhythm. Then, softly, he rapped:
"Born with gold chains, but I can't break free,
Livin' in a house that don't feel like me.
They say I'm lucky, got it all laid out,
But my dreams ain't rich, so they throw 'em out."
"You fight for a place, I fight to escape,
Both stuck in a game we were forced to play.
If I win, I lose—if I lose, I'm done,
Tell me, Sneha, how do I outrun the sun?"
The last word faded into silence. Rohan stared at his hands, as if embarrassed to look at her.
Sneha, for once, didn't have a sharp response. She just sat there, letting the words sink in. Then, quietly, she said,
"That's… really good."
He glanced at her. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "Yeah." Then, a small smirk. "Didn't know you had a brain after all."
He rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face. For the first time, he felt like someone had actually heard himSneha didn't know much about rap. But she knew about words that hit hard. Words that felt like they came straight from the heart.
And Rohan's rap? It wasn't just music. It was everything he couldn't say out loud.
She leaned back on her hands, staring at the sky. "You ever think about showing this to people?"
Rohan let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. And then I remember my family would bury me alive."
"You're not your family."
He glanced at her, surprised. No one had ever said that to him before.
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "At least you're fighting for something you actually want."
Sneha scoffed. "Fighting? More like being controlled. The lady gave me this chance, but she owns me now."
"So we're both stuck in cages," Rohan said, voice quiet.
She nodded. "Yeah. But at least you found a way to be free, even if it's just in your words."
He looked down at his phone, thumb hovering over his lyrics. Then, after a pause, he slid the device toward her. "Here. Keep it."
Sneha blinked. "What?"
"That song," he said. "It's yours now. Just in case you ever need to hear that someone else gets it."
She hesitated before taking the phone, fingers brushing the screen like it was something fragile.
"Thanks," she murmured.
He nudged her shoulder. "Don't get all emotional on me now."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. And for the first time, she didn't feel so alone.
The weight on Sneha's chest felt lighter that night. Not gone, but lighter.
Rohan wasn't just some spoiled rich guy anymore. He wasn't just her competition. He was… someone who understood. Someone who was trapped just like her.
And somehow, knowing that made it easier to keep going.
Rohan, on the other hand, felt something shift too. He had never cared about this competition. But now? Now he wasn't just fighting for his family's approval.
He was fighting because, for the first time, he had a friend in this.
Whether they won or lost, one thing was clear—
They weren't alone anymore.
The Final Showdown
The grand hall buzzed with tension as Sneha and Rohan stood side by side, waiting for the final decision. The competition had been brutal, pushing them both to their limits. They had fought, struggled, and even secretly helped each other, but now only one of them would win.
The judges announced the results.
"The winner is… Sneha."
A wave of silence passed through the room, followed by scattered applause. The rich lady, who had backed Sneha, smiled victoriously. Rohan's family, however, sat in stony silence, their disappointment evident.
Sneha exhaled, gripping the edges of the podium. She had done it. She had won.
She turned to Rohan, expecting bitterness, but he just smirked. "Looks like you were always better at this," he said casually. But there was something different about his voice—it wasn't resentment. It was relief.
Rohan Walks Away
His parents rose from their seats, their expressions cold. His father gave him one last look, as if assessing whether he was worth any more of their time. Deciding he wasn't, he turned away.
"So, that's it?" Rohan asked, shaking his head. "One loss, and I'm out of the family?"
His mother's lips barely moved. "You were out the moment you disgraced us."
Sneha watched as Rohan processed their words, but instead of anger or sadness, he just chuckled. "Perfect. I was tired of playing your game anyway."
He turned to Sneha, hands in his pockets. "You're going to do great things, Sneha. But this?" He gestured to the business world, the competition, the power struggles. "This was never my stage."
Sneha opened her mouth to say something, but he just grinned. "Don't miss me too much."
And with that, Rohan walked away—out of the hall, out of his family's control, out of the life he never wanted.
Years Later…
Sneha stood by the window of her office, staring at the city skyline. She had built something real. She had fought for her place, and now she was using it to help people like her—those who never got chances.
A notification lit up her phone. A new song had just dropped.
"Rohan – Out of the Cage."
Curious, she clicked play. A deep beat filled the room, followed by Rohan's voice.
"They told me I was nothing, made me fight for their crown,
But I took my own road, flipped the whole game around."
Sneha listened, a smile forming. He had done it. He had walked away from everything, and he had won his own way.
They had been rivals once. They had fought for the same dream. But in the end, they had both found their own paths.
And somehow, that made them both winners.