Asmita had always been an open book for her followers. Her poetry resonated with their raw emotions, her words becoming their escape from life’s chaos. But behind the curated words and perfect verses was a girl battling the weight of her own expectations.

It was another late night in her tiny room, the warm glow of fairy lights flickering against her laptop screen. A notification popped up on her Instagram.

“Can you write something for us? Something real? Something you feel?”

The message wasn’t unusual. Asmita often received requests from her followers, but this one struck a chord. She stared at the message for a long time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“How do I share what I can barely admit to myself?” she whispered.

Across the city, Rohan was battling his...