Stuck Voyage of 20's

It was the kind of morning that carried a sense of something about to happen.

Avantika stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her ID card lanyard like it was some kind of armor. Today wasn't about looking perfect — it was about showing up.

She had been selected as the lead presenter for her college's annual Business Innovation Symposium — the first time the panel was allowing undergraduates to present in the final round. Her topic? "Purpose-Driven Branding in Modern India."

A mouthful, yes.

But it wasn't the topic that made her stomach twist. It was the moment.

Because this was the first time she wasn't presenting for grades or faculty applause.

This was for herself.

---

The auditorium buzzed with quiet anticipation. Rows of students, professors, and industry mentors filled the seats. Avantika stood backstage, notes in hand — but she wasn't reading them.

Instead, she was repeating to herself:

> "I am enough. I am prepared. I belong here."

And somewhere deep inside, she actually believed it.

---

When they called her name, she walked onto the stage — her kurta simple, her voice steady, her presence confident.

She began her talk.

No stutters.

No panic.

Just her — speaking like she meant every word.

> "In a world full of loud campaigns and louder promises, people don't just buy products — they buy stories. They buy trust. They buy meaning.

And for that to happen, businesses must first know why they exist.

The same way people must."

Her voice didn't tremble when she said that last line.

Because she wasn't just talking about brands anymore.

She was talking about herself.

---

The applause that followed was polite at first, then louder. The panel nodded. One of the industry mentors even smiled and whispered something to another judge.

As she walked off stage, her professor caught her arm and said, "Avantika, that was… incredibly clear. You've found your voice."

She smiled.

And for once, she didn't deflect the compliment. She just said, "Thank you."

---

Later that evening, back home, she sat with her journal again. This time she wrote:

> *Today, I didn't fall in love.

I didn't break down.

I didn't get rescued.

I showed up. I spoke. I stood tall.

And that is the kind of story I want to keep telling.*

Just then, her phone buzzed.

Dhruv: "Heard from your classmate you killed it today. Proud of you, Avantika."

She smiled, typing a reply slowly.

> *"Thanks. It felt like… me.

Not the version everyone expected. Just the real one."*