The morning after Arjun's heroics, the headlines screamed his name.
> "Arjun Dev: Kerala's New Hope"
"The Rebirth of Indian Football?"
"Blasters' Prodigy Stuns East Bengal"
And in smaller print — but just as persistent:
> "Kalyani and Arjun: Real or Rumor?"
It wasn't just the football world that noticed now.
It was Bollywood.
It was gossip columns.
It was millions of fans dissecting a look, a smile, a moment.
---
Kalyani sat in her trailer, surrounded by chaos.
Makeup artists, costume assistants, assistant directors — all whispering. The set was buzzing not about the movie, but about her.
"Ma'am, do you want us to respond to the news?" her publicist asked nervously. "There's already over 200 posts combining your name with his. The producers are asking—"
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"No, but… they think he's using you."
She froze.
> "He'd never."
But she knew the industry. She'd grown up in it.
And public perception didn't care about truth — it only cared about narrative.
---
Meanwhile, at the Blasters camp, Arjun sat alone at the far corner of the cafeteria, untouched meal in front of him.
Everyone around him was buzzing, cheerful — but distant. The coaches had praised him, the fans had lifted him, but something in the locker room had shifted.
Especially with Faizan.
They didn't talk much that morning.
When Arjun tried to hand Faizan the ball during a simple drill, the return pass came harder than usual. No eye contact. No words.
And during the cooldown jog, Faizan trailed behind — silent.
---
Coach Sameer noticed. He called Arjun aside after the session.
"You're winning games. That's good. But don't lose your team."
"I haven't—"
"You haven't tried to keep them either," he said bluntly. "Sometimes when the light hits you, it casts shadows on others. Find a way to balance that."
Arjun nodded slowly. He knew the truth in that.
But how was he supposed to chase a destiny… and carry everyone with him?
---
That evening, he received a call from an unknown number.
When he picked up, it was her.
"Kalyani?"
"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Can we meet?"
---
They met near Marine Drive, in the back corner of a coffee shop where no one recognized them — yet.
The breeze carried the scent of salt and monsoon clouds. They sat opposite each other, the silence between them less awkward now. Just heavy.
"The gossip is getting worse," she began. "And I'm not afraid of it. But the film I'm doing — it's political. Conservative producers. Big money. If they think I'm 'dating a footballer'…"
She stopped herself.
"I get it," Arjun said.
She looked at him sharply. "Do you?"
He nodded. "You have your dream. I have mine. Neither of us should have to apologize for chasing it."
A pause.
"But I don't regret you being there," he added softly. "That moment… when I looked up after the goal and saw you... it grounded me."
Kalyani's eyes flickered. "I wasn't sure if I should've come."
"I was."
They sat in silence again. This time, warm.
"I'm not asking you to hide," she said finally. "Just… don't get dragged down by what people think we are."
"Let them think," he whispered. "Let them talk. But when I make it to Europe… I want you in the stands."
---
Back at the training camp, the assistant coach approached Faizan.
"You've got more skill than half the league. But you're letting your head get in the way."
Faizan stayed silent.
The assistant lowered his voice.
"Arjun didn't steal anything. He earned it. So can you. But only if you stop fighting ghosts."
That word again — ghosts.
Faizan clenched his jaw.
> "No one sees what I've survived to be here."
"No one knows what it feels like to be second when you were born to be first."
But deep down, even he couldn't deny it.
Arjun was playing on another level now — and that stung.
---
Later that night, Arjun stood on the hostel rooftop, the sea breeze tousling his hair, phone in hand.
No texts. No distractions. Just memories.
Flashes of his old life.
> Sitting in a European apartment, injured, alone. Watching football highlights on mute. No one calling. No one remembering.
And then—nothing.
Darkness.
He opened his journal.
> Chapter 3: When the world starts watching, remember why you began.
He stared at the stars.
> "Appa… I'm not lost this time."
"And I won't let her be either."
---