As I sat under the old mango tree, the warm sun casting a dwindled shadow, my mind wandered back to the village's bustling market. The vibrant colors, the cacophony of sounds, and the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread still lingered in my memory. I had left that life behind, chasing a better future in the city. But the constant struggle to make ends meet had taken its toll. The part-time job barely covered my rent, and my grades were beginning to slip. I sighed, feeling like I was stuck between two worlds, belonging to neither. The mango tree's leaves rustled, as if urging me to keep pushing, reminding me that even the strongest trees take time to grow.