The rain had eased by the time Ruhaan, Rohit, and Virat returned to the locker room. The squad announcement had long since ended, and most of the team had dispersed. Ruhaan sat on one of the benches, still drenched and staring at the floor, his mind racing. He could feel his seniors' watchful gazes, the concern in their eyes weighing heavily on him.

Rohit broke the silence first. “Tujhe ab aur chup nahi dekha jaata, Ruhaan. Bata, kya soch raha hai?”

Ruhaan exhaled deeply, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “Main bas… main bas samajh nahi paa raha ki aur kya karna padega, Rohit bhai. Sab kuch diya maine iss game ke liye. Phir bhi—” He stopped, his voice faltering.

Virat, standing nearby with his arms crossed, shifted uncomfortably. “Ruhaan,” he started slowly, his voice hesitant, “ek baat boloon?”

Ruhaan looked up at him, his brows furrowed. “Haan, bhaiya. Boliye.”

Virat sighed, glancing at Rohit briefly before continuing. “Mujhe lagta hai... shayad tujhe Ria ke saath date karna chahiye.”

The words hit Ruhaan like a slap. He stared at Virat, his expression frozen in disbelief. “Kya?”

“Sun, Ruhaan,” Virat said, raising a hand to placate him. “Main bas yeh keh raha hoon ki agar tu ek baar uske saath jaa kar dekhe, toh sab theek ho sakta hai. Vivek ka pressure kam ho jayega. Squad mein wapas aa jaayega tu. Aur tu jo form mein hai na, ek baar wapas aa gaya, toh selectors tujhe kabhi ignore nahi kar paayenge.”

Rohit frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. “Virat, yeh thoda zyada nahi ho gaya?”

“Main bas practical baat kar raha hoon,” Virat defended, his tone calm but firm. “Dekho, ek baar Ria ke saath jaane se na Ruhaan ka career bachega aur woh Vivek bhi chup ho jayega. Aur phir kuch mahine baad, jab sab settle ho jaaye, tu usse break-up kar sakta hai. Agar uske baad bhi selectors ignore karein, toh fans samajh jaayenge ki politics chal rahi hai. Tab Vivek ke paas tujhe side-line karne ka risk lene ka scope nahi bachega.”

Ruhaan felt his stomach churn. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. The room seemed to close in on him as Virat’s words echoed in his mind.

Rohit placed a hand on Ruhaan’s shoulder. “Dekh, Ruhaan, Virat jo keh raha hai woh ek tareeka ho sakta hai, lekin—”

“Main nahi kar sakta,” Ruhaan interrupted, his voice low but resolute.

Virat stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “Ruhaan, main samajh sakta hoon ki tujhe ajeeb lag raha hoga, lekin soch ke dekh. Yeh bas ek strategy hai. Tu cricket ke liye yeh kar sakta hai.”

Ruhaan clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. How could he explain to his beloved bhaiya that this wasn’t an option for him? That he couldn’t go on even one date with Ria because he was already married?

“Virat bhaiya,” he said carefully, his throat dry, “kya aap mujhe samay de sakte ho? Main—main is baare mein abhi nahi soch sakta.”

Virat frowned but nodded. “Theek hai. Soch le. Bas ek baar apne future ke baare mein zarur sochna.”

Ruhaan nodded mutely, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tell them. Not yet. The truth would only complicate things further, and he wasn’t ready to deal with that.

As Virat and Rohit left him alone to gather his thoughts, Ruhaan leaned back against the bench, staring up at the ceiling. He felt trapped in a web of lies and secrets, his loyalty to his team pulling him in one direction and his love for Roohi anchoring him in another.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages until he found one from Roohi. It was a picture of her latest painting—a serene landscape, full of color and life.

For a moment, the chaos in his mind quieted. Roohi was his world, the one constant in his life. And no matter how difficult things got, he wouldn’t betray her. Not for cricket, not for anything.

But how long could he keep this secret from the people who cared about him the most?

As Ruhaan walked through the door of their apartment, the familiar, comforting smell of Roohi’s cooking greeted him. The house was warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He watched as Roohi, graceful as ever, gave instructions to the helper on setting the dinner table. She had always been the one to manage the house with such care, always making sure everything was just right. But tonight, something felt off. 

Ruhaan dropped his bag by the door, barely acknowledging the helper’s nod as he walked past. He wasn’t sure what it was—whether it was the weight of his conversation with Virat or the frustration of being repeatedly overlooked by the selectors—but something had shifted inside him. 

During dinner, he could barely bring himself to engage in conversation. Roohi noticed it immediately, the usual light in his eyes gone, replaced by an unsettling emptiness. She tried to make small talk, asking about his day and the practice session, but his responses were brief, mechanical. 

“Ruhaan, kya hua?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. She placed her spoon down, studying his face, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on his plate. 

He mumbled a response, barely audible, “Nothing.” 

Roohi’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her heart heavy with the nagging feeling that something was wrong. He had always been open with her, and this sudden withdrawal felt like a wall had gone up between them. She reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on his. “Ruhaan… What’s going on?” 

He didn’t look up, his jaw clenched. Roohi sighed softly. She knew him too well. If he didn’t want to talk, she couldn’t push him. But something told her this was more than just a bad day at practice. 

“Is this about the squad announcement?” she asked, her voice quiet but direct. 

Ruhaan’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t answer. He could feel her gaze on him, searching for an answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to share the truth. He couldn’t bring himself to admit how deep the pain went. 

Roohi’s suspicion grew. She knew he’d been dealing with the pressure, but this was different. “Ruhaan,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with concern, “what is it? What do you know about the squad announcement?” 

Ruhaan’s chest tightened. He couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. But telling her would mean exposing the weight of everything—the pressure, the fear of losing everything he had worked so hard for, and the shame of his failure. 

His silence stretched out, and Roohi squeezed his hand gently. “Please… talk to me.” 

Finally, Ruhaan met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He exhaled sharply and looked down at his lap, his voice barely a whisper. 

“I wasn’t in the squad, Roohi.” 

Her heart sank, but she kept her composure, her voice soft. “I know. I heard it on TV earlier.” 

“No, it’s not just that,” Ruhaan continued, his voice faltering. “I wasn’t even in the reserves for the Test series against New Zealand. Not in the T20 squad for Bangladesh either. Every time I play well, every time I show them what I’m capable of, it’s like they just ignore me. They’re pretending I don’t exist.” 

Roohi’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his cheek. “But you’ve been playing so well, Ruhaan. They’ll see it. They have to.” 

Ruhaan shook his head, his frustration building again. “It’s not about the performance anymore, Roohi. I… I’m being kept out on purpose. It’s not just my form, it’s politics, it’s favoritism, it’s…” His voice trailed off as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. 

Roohi frowned, trying to understand. “What do you mean?” 

He looked away, not wanting to share the full details—the conversation with Virat earlier had unsettled him enough. He wasn’t ready to burden her with the idea of making deals or dating someone to get ahead. The thought of it made his stomach turn. 

Virat had suggested dating Ria, the daughter of Vivek Agarwal, a powerful member of the selection committee. In return, he was promised his place in the squad. Ruhaan didn’t know how to explain it, how to justify something so foreign to his nature. 

“I just… don’t know what to do, Roohi,” he finally said, his voice hollow. “I’ve been trying everything, but it feels like it’s all falling apart.” 

Roohi leaned forward, her gaze softening. “You’re not alone in this, Ruhaan. You’ve never been alone. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Don’t let them take that from you.” 

He met her eyes, seeing the trust and unwavering support in them. For a moment, he wanted to spill everything—to tell her about the pressure to date Ria, to make sacrifices just to stay in the game. But the weight of it all felt too much to carry, let alone share. 

“I just don’t know how to fight this,” he said quietly. 

Roohi’s hand moved to his, her touch reassuring. “You don’t have to fight it alone. Whatever it is, whatever they want you to do, we’ll find a way through it together.” 

Ruhaan swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t deserve her. The thought of dragging her into this mess, into the politics of cricket, made him feel ashamed. 

But then he realized—she was already in it with him. She had been from the very beginning, standing by his side through everything. And if there was anyone he could trust to help him through this, it was her. 

“I’ll figure it out, Roohi,” he said finally, his voice steadier than before. “But I need you. I can’t do this without you.” 

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’ll never have to, Ruhaan.” 

For the first time that evening, Ruhaan allowed himself to relax, just for a moment. He was still lost in the storm of uncertainty, but with Roohi by his side, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could weather it.