I still remember being seven, so excited about my birthday. I ran to my dadi and said, "This year, I’ll turn eight!" hoping she’d share my excitement. But instead, she looked at me, shocked.

"Why are you growing up so fast?" she said. Before I could process it, my father, sitting beside her, sighed and said,

"Just 12-13 years left… then we’ll have to get you married. You’ll leave this house forever."

And just like that, my excitement died.

I was only a kid — happy of my birthday — but they were already counting down the years until I’d be given away. I didn’t think of it back then, but deep down, it stayed with me. It made me overthink. Every time I looked at myself growing older, I felt like I was walking towards a future I didn’t even want.

But then something unexpected happened.

My marks started improving in school, and suddenly my father’s tone changed. He no longer talked about my marriage. Instead, he proudly said, "She’s doing well... I think she can achieve something. he started seeing potential in me.

And that’s when I realized — a single sheet of paper can actually decide your future.

Not my birth certificate.

Not my marriage certificate.

But my report card.

The better my grades got, the lesser the pressure of marriage became. It was like my academic success silenced the conversation about my future being tied to someone else.

That’s when I promised myself —

I don’t want to end up like my mother, married off in her early 20s with unfulfilled dreams.

I don’t want my life to be measured in “when will she get married?”.

I want it to be measured in “how far can she go?”.

So now, when I think about my future — I don’t see a wedding.

I see a career.

I see independence.

I see a life where I decide my own fate.

And I know one thing for sure — I’m not here to leave this house for someone else.

I’m here to build my own house