The mountain winds of Manali had long faded, but the memories lingered. Back in Hyderabad, Aarav should have felt recharged, ready to plunge into training camps and long net sessions. Instead, he found his mind drifting more often than it should. A sharp bouncer he bowled in practice brought not just the thud of leather on willow to his ears but also Kavitha's laugh echoing in his head. The sight of the red seam didn't ignite hunger—it reminded him of the way her scarf had fluttered against the cold breeze in Manali.
At first, no one noticed. A half-step late in his run-up, a ball straying down the leg side—it was easy to blame it on rust from the break. Coach Arjun, ever the disciplinarian, chalked it up to fatigue. "It'll take a week to get back into rhythm," he told the support staff. "Let the boy breathe."
But a week stretched into two. Aarav was bowling overs with effort but not fire. The snap in his wrist, the bite in his seam, the instinctive aggression—it all seemed dulled. His teammates sensed it too. Even Siraj, usually the joker in the group, pulled him aside one evening."Bhai, sab thik hai? (Brother, is everything fine?) You're bowling like you're half asleep."Aarav forced a grin, muttering something about needing more gym work. But deep down, he knew the truth.
It was on a humid evening under the floodlights of the practice nets that Coach Arjun finally lost patience. Aarav had just delivered a sluggish spell where even the junior batsmen played him comfortably. The coach folded his arms, eyes narrowing.
"Stop." His voice cut through the noise. "Everyone else—take five."
The nets fell silent. Aarav walked up nervously, sweat running down his back.
"Aarav," Arjun said quietly but firmly, "this isn't you. I know fatigue. I know rust. This isn't that. Your head is somewhere else. Out with it."
Aarav hesitated. For weeks, he had buried it. But under that piercing stare, he finally spoke. He told him about Manali, about meeting Kavitha, about how her presence lingered in his mind even now, distracting him at the crease.
For a moment, Arjun said nothing. Then his voice hardened."You think IPL bowlers get distracted by holiday romances? You think selectors care about your thoughts drifting to a girl when you're supposed to be hitting a length?"
Aarav lowered his gaze.
"You listen to me, boy," Arjun continued, his tone sharper now. "Cricket is jealous. It won't share you. If you want this career, you give it everything. If you want to daydream, do it after your overs. Right now, you don't just bowl for yourself—you bowl for Hyderabad, for every young player who'd kill for this chance. Get your head back in the game. Fast."
The words stung, but they landed where they needed to. Aarav clenched his fists, shame burning his face. He had let the game slip from his grasp without realizing it.
That night, he sat alone in his room, staring at the ball in his hand. The leather felt heavier than ever. Kavitha's smile was still there, tugging at the edges of his thoughts, but for the first time, he shoved it aside. There would be time for destiny later. Right now, cricket demanded everything.
He whispered to himself, as though making a vow:"Back to the game. Back to who I am."
And with that, Aarav resolved to train harder, sharper, and with the fire that had carried him this far.