Ahaan didn't answer. He just kept hitting the bag. Every punch whispered a word: Focus. Target. Lakshya.
Ahaan was twenty-two and had no idea what he wanted. While his friends cracked engineering exams and business school entrances, Ahaan spent his days scrolling through reels, clicking photos of stray dogs, and arguing with his father about "finding a real job."
Something cracked inside Ahaan. Not anger—clarity.
The final round. Ahaan against the defending champion—a brute with six wins. The first two rounds, Ahaan was battered. Blood dripped from his eyebrow. The crowd chanted for the champion.
That night, Meera hugged him tight. "You did it, bhai."
But late at night, alone in his room, the silence whispered a different truth. He was lost.
Not because he has something to prove. But because he knows: A life without a target is just noise. A life with one? That's a story worth telling.
