The game continued.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAAeUjxmAeKP
It stopped being subtle.
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Praise arrived first in fragments—an approving nod, a softened tone, my name said without comparison. Then it gathered momentum, the way weather does when pressure shifts quietly and suddenly the sky gives in.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAZqLsCsmBCy
“Good,” sir said one day, looking directly at me.
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Not Devika’s sister.
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Just me.
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After that, it rained.
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Correct answers were acknowledged. Explanations were called clear. My notebooks were lifted, pages turned slowly, margins traced with interest. Sometimes he repeated my words to the class, as if they carried authority now that they had passed through him.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAsIHDdeW9EV
I learned the exact shape of praise.
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It was never loud. Never excessive. It came trimmed and controlled, the way approval often does when it believes itself earned. “This is how it should be done.” “Notice this approach.” “Yes—exactly.”
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Each sentence landed cleanly. Each one counted.
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I kept playing.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAxtOamrNNPD
I didn’t rush victories. I spaced them. I let others answer first when it served me. I chose moments that mattered—questions that shaped the lesson instead of filling it. I learned when to simplify and when to complicate. When to speak for clarity. When to speak for dominance.
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Slowly, the comparison shifted.
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It didn’t disappear.
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It inverted.
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“Devika is talented,” sir would say, almost out of habit now, and then pause. “But Niharika—”
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The pause mattered more than the sentence that followed.
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“She thinks differently.”
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“She’s consistent.”
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“She understands.”
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I noticed how my sister’s name began to arrive with qualifiers, while mine arrived with certainty. How her achievements were explained, while mine were assumed. How effort became invisible again—only this time, it worked in my favor.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAgkC27J0uJQ
I didn’t feel triumph.
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I felt alignment.
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The system responded the way systems do when fed correctly. Predictably. Reliably. Almost gratefully.
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At some point, I was no longer catching up.
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I was ahead.
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Not louder. Not flashier. Just unmistakable.
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I watched the room adjust around me—the way attention tilted, the way expectations recalibrated. I watched myself become the reference point.
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And still, I played.
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Because winning once wasn’t enough.
56Please respect copyright.PENANAeFsaX7iWLM
Games like this don’t end when you surpass someone else.
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They end when you stop needing the score.
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