Stuck Voyage of 20's

The Monday morning air buzzed with energy as Avantika stepped into the corporate office for the second week of her internship. The clacking of heels, the murmur of coffee-fueled conversations, and the clicking of keyboards created a rhythm she was slowly syncing with. At first, the environment had overwhelmed her—a mix of professional jargon, rigid schedules, and unfamiliar faces. But now, she was beginning to feel the current instead of fighting it.

"Morning, intern!" Rishabh, the associate manager from the marketing team, gave her a nod as she passed by.

"Good morning, sir," she smiled, still not used to being called "intern" like it was her new name.

Avantika settled into her desk, a small corner near the window. From there, she could see the city stretch out into a blur of honking cars and scattered buildings. It reminded her of how vast the world was—and how tiny yet significant her presence in this office felt.

Her mentor, Priya, a sharp-eyed woman in her early thirties, walked over with a coffee in hand. "Got a task for you today. We're planning a digital pitch for an FMCG client—social media campaign. I want your fresh take on the brand. Gen Z insights. Think beyond likes and hashtags."

Avantika nodded, her heart thudding with both fear and excitement. This was real work, not fetching printouts or taking meeting notes.

She opened the brand brief, scanning through the product's core values—sustainability, minimalism, affordability. Her mind started running in five different directions. She scribbled rough ideas in her notebook, deleting, rethinking, doodling her way through thoughts. Her old college instincts kicked in—research, ideate, visualize.

By noon, she had a rough campaign concept called "Real Over Perfect"—a digital series showcasing raw, unfiltered daily moments of people using the product, breaking the idealistic beauty standards.

She nervously pitched it to Priya.

After a moment of silence, Priya tilted her head and said, "This... is not bad. Needs polishing, but the core idea is strong. We'll present this to the team tomorrow."

Avantika blinked. "Really?"

"Don't look so surprised. You have a voice. Use it."

For the first time since the internship began, Avantika felt seen. Not as a student, not as someone learning, but as someone capable.

Later that day, she bumped into Anay near the vending machine. He was the guy from finance she'd occasionally see during lunch breaks. Smart, silent, with a dry wit and a weird obsession with black coffee.

"Coffee again?" she teased, grabbing a tea sachet.

"It's my only toxic trait," he shrugged.

They sat on the breakroom bench, talking about the usual—long hours, unpaid internships, the mystery of who keeps stealing the good cookies.

"You seem different today," he said, taking a sip. "Confident."

She smiled. "I pitched an idea. They're taking it seriously."

"Nice. Feels good, huh? When your mind turns into something real."

That line stayed with her all day.

That evening, while returning home on the bus, Avantika thought about how far she had come in just a few weeks. The first few days were full of self-doubt. She'd stare at the emails multiple times before hitting send. She constantly wondered if her ideas were too naïve, too theoretical. But she was starting to learn that everyone here had once been where she was.

She checked her phone. A message from Dhruv blinked on the screen.

Dhruv: How's the corporate queen doing?

She smiled.

Avantika: Still surviving. I pitched an idea today. They liked it!

Dhruv: Of course they did. I knew you'd kill it. I'm proud of you.

That made her heart swell a little. In this messy, confusing journey of figuring out life in her 20s, Dhruv was her calm. They hadn't met in person for a few weeks now—his basketball tournaments were in full swing—but they stayed in touch, even if just to complain about sore muscles or cold coffee.

Back at home, Avantika sat on her bed, laptop open, refining the campaign deck for the next day. She adjusted colors, aligned slides, inserted quotes. It was 1:47 a.m. when she finally shut her screen.

She didn't feel exhausted. She felt... fulfilled.

Not because she was being productive, but because she was slowly discovering her place in the chaos. She wasn't lost—she was in motion.

And that, to her, felt like progress.