"Hurry up, pack quickly!" Dad's voice boomed from downstairs, echoing like thunder. "I'll get the book. Be ready when I return!"

In the hostel's device-free confines, novels provided escape - portals into fantastical realms light years from institutional dreariness.

I packed meticulously, selecting foods that would bring the flavors of home to my hostel stay. There, breakfast meant mundane servings of plain milk and tasteless bread. Mixing Bournvita into milk and layering jam on bread made meals edible. Bananas and apples offered fleeting respites of sweetness amidst the institutional monotony. Homemade snacks like nimkis were a quiet rebellion against the hostel's regulations, each bite a connection to familial warmth and comfort.

Upstairs, Dad's call shattered the peace of my soccer video game, signaling my return to hostel routines. I soaked in the familiar home sights - neighborhood kids' laughter, mom's kitchen clanging below - bathed in warm sunset hues. Dad's commands blended with my brother's playful banter, creating a comforting chaos that I knew I would soon miss dearly.

In a few hours, I would exchange the spontaneity of home for the structured monotony of hostel life once more. Expecting tasteless meals, strict surveillance, and an unyielding routine—waking at 5 to the warden's abrupt alarm, enduring sleepless late-night study sessions, and grappling with restless nights in a cramped dorm—cast a shadow over my return.

As I packed, the clash between the comforts of home and the strictness of hostel life became clearer. Each item I placed in my bag felt like a piece of who I was, amidst the plain walls of the hostel. The smell of Mom's cooking hung in the air, reminding me of her nurturing love that I would soon leave behind. Amid the sounds of family laughter and arguments, I sensed a deep sense of belonging that would soon be replaced by solitude and routine.

Leaving home meant not just physical departure, but a journey into self-discovery. Each transition heightened my awareness of two contrasting worlds—the familiar embrace of home and the beckoning call of independence and personal growth. The structure and discipline of hostel life taught me resilience and discipline, qualities I knew would be essential for my future aspirations. Conversely, the warmth and spontaneity of home nurtured my creativity and sense of belonging, shaping the person I aspired to become—a blend of cherished roots and unfolding possibilities.

The dreaded day had arrived—it was time to return to the place that had defined my childhood in such a boring way, and it filled me with dread. While others saw 11th and 12th grades as the pinnacle of youth, for me, being stuck in that place felt like a cruel joke. Each hour there dragged on endlessly, and the thought of how long until I could leave again made me sick with resentment.

As I packed, I came across our school's 2020 annual magazine, Deepika, which added weight to my departure. Flipping through its worn pages, memories flooded back—laughter during breaks, lively debates in classrooms, and the bond with classmates who felt like family. Looking at the class photo, I recognized faces of friends who had become confidants, frozen in time with their smiles. Despite my disdain for the hostel, these friendships were gems I couldn't discard. But knowing some would move on to day colleges while I stayed behind cast a shadow over my nostalgia.

After finishing 10th grade, I had imagined attending a college near home—somewhere I could socialize freely, maybe even find a girlfriend whose texts would make me grin like a fool. This fantasy was my escape, especially since reality had always been more challenging. If talking to a girl were a graded subject, I would have failed nursery school, stumbling over the simplest interactions.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

"In our society, management isn't considered respectable," Dad's voice was firm, laced with concern.

"It's seen as a refuge for delinquents—rebellious youth who waste their potential," Mom added.

"Why can't I choose my path?" I pleaded, frustration tingeing my voice.

Mom hesitated, torn between my aspirations and societal expectations. "I want what's best for you, chhora" (Nepali word for son), she murmured, her gaze distant, reflecting the weight of our community's opinions. "Science offers stability and respectability."

Before we could reach a resolution, Eldest Maiju (Nepali word for mother's sister-in-law) and Mama (Nepali word for mother's brother) intervened with their wealth and influence, dominating our family discussions. Their affluent lifestyles and social status gave them authority. Their concerns went beyond my future; they feared the repercussions of me straying from societal norms, shaped by their own struggles for acceptance in our community.

"Management?" Maiju's tone was dismissive, dripping with condescension. "Do you want him to become another cautionary tale?"

Their once-admired influence turned to resentment when I learned they had manipulated my mother years ago to keep me imprisoned in the hostel. Now, their interference is compelling me into the science stream against my wishes.

"They're right, Mom," I argued, frustration simmering. "It's just a science stream. I can still pursue computer courses without returning to that hostel."

Despite my efforts to shape my future, their fears persisted. "Your son is impressionable," Maiju insisted, her tone laced with concern. "Day colleges pose too much risk."

Frustrated and feeling unheard, I asserted my bargaining power. "Fine," I declared firmly. "If I must do this, then I demand something in return."

A gaming laptop had been a childhood dream, a luxury we couldn't afford. In this standoff, I demanded it as a condition for compliance. After tense negotiations, they relented, and the prized possession finally rested in my hands. The elation of victory momentarily overshadowed the lingering sadness and frustration.

Yet, despite this small triumph, the day of departure loomed. Closing my childhood bedroom door, I felt the weight of expectation settle heavily on my shoulders. The decision was made, yet my heart wrestled with conflicting emotions. The hostel awaited like a prison, but amidst uncertainty, a quiet resolve kindled within—to navigate this chapter with resilience, to carve a path despite obstacles, and to cling to dreams that shimmered like distant stars in the night sky.

As I stood at the threshold of my home, the setting sun cast a bittersweet glow over everything familiar. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for the challenges ahead. With one last look at the place that had shaped me, I stepped into the waiting car, leaving behind echoes of laughter and the warmth of home.

The engine hummed as Dad called from the driver's seat, "Let's get going."

Glancing back at Mom in the doorway, tears welled in her eyes.

"Take care, chhora," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Mom's eyes welled with tears as I replied, "I'll miss you, Mamu."

Her smile wavered, filled with love and worry. "Remember, you'll be back during vacations. And I can call you weekly, okay?"

Turning to my younger brother, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, I tried to lighten the mood. "Ready to suffer in that hostel? They say the food's terrible."

He chuckled, trying to match my attempt at humor. "Oh, you'll manage. But don't forget, I'll be joining you soon."

Dad's patience wore thin as we bantered, urging us to hurry. Mom squeezed my hand one last time, her silent plea to remember home echoing in my heart.

...As the car pulled away, leaving behind familiar laughter and the warmth of home, a whirlwind of emotions swept through me. The hostel loomed ahead, a symbol of routine and rules that clashed with the spontaneity and love of home.

Transitioning from the comfort of family to the solitude ahead felt daunting. Each glance back at disappearing memories felt like leaving a piece of myself behind. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, I vowed to face this new chapter with the same determination that had carried me through hostel life before.

The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but I carried home's echoes within me - a talisman against the formidable journey of self-discovery to come. As we navigated the familiar streets, Dad's reassuring presence steadied my resolve. No matter how far I ventured, the tender moments just shared would forever bind me to that cherished world.