Ruhaan was halfway through his net session, his bat connecting with the ball in powerful, determined strokes, when the security personnel walked into the practice area. His teammates paused mid-drill, exchanging curious glances as the security guard approached Ruhaan with a package in hand. 

“Ruhaan Sharma?” the guard asked, holding up a plain brown envelope. 

Ruhaan took a moment to remove his gloves, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he accepted the envelope. 

The guard nodded and walked away, leaving Ruhaan standing in the middle of the pitch with a growing sense of unease. 

“What’s that?” Hardik called out from the sidelines, his voice laced with curiosity. 

“No idea,” Ruhaan muttered, tearing open the envelope. As he unfolded the letter inside, his eyes scanned the bold official heading: **Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI).** 

His stomach dropped. 

The more he read, the colder his blood ran. The letter was a formal notice from the BCCI, accusing him of bribing the selection committee to secure a spot on the national team. The allegations included the misuse of his influence to arrange deals and hinted at further investigation into his connections. 

“Ruhaan?” Virat’s voice cut through the haze as he approached, concern etched across his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Ruhaan didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were glued to the page, disbelief and anger coursing through him in equal measure. Finally, he handed the letter to Virat without a word. 

Virat read it quickly, his expression darkening with each line. “What the hell is this?” he hissed, turning to look at Rohit, who was walking over to join them. 

“What’s going on?” Rohit asked, his gaze shifting between Virat and Ruhaan. 

Virat handed him the letter, and as Rohit read it, his face hardened. “This is nonsense,” Rohit said sharply. “Who’s behind this?” 

Ruhaan’s grip on his bat tightened. “Ria,” he said through gritted teeth. “This has her written all over it. She must have leaked something to frame me.” 

“Why would she do that?” Hardik chimed in, now fully aware that something serious was happening. 

Ruhaan exhaled heavily, his frustration boiling over. “Because I refused to play along with her games. I told her I wasn’t going to that red carpet event she begged me to attend with her. I was clear—no relationship, no public appearances. This is her way of retaliating.” 

Rohit’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t just petty revenge, Ruhaan. These are serious allegations. If this gains traction, it could ruin your career.” 

“I know,” Ruhaan muttered, running a hand through his hair. His mind was spinning with thoughts of Roohi. How could he explain this to her? She’d want answers, and he wasn’t sure he could give her any that would make sense. 

Virat stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We’ll handle this, but first, you need to keep a clear head. Don’t say anything to anyone about this—not even the media. Let the lawyers and the management deal with it.” 

Ruhaan nodded, though his fists remained clenched. “What if it’s too late? What if they’ve already made up their minds?” 

Rohit placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too late. We’ll fight this. You’ve done nothing wrong, Ruhaan, and we’ll prove it. But you need to trust us and focus on your game.” 

As the practice session resumed, Ruhaan couldn’t shake the weight of the accusations hanging over him. His swings at the ball were angrier, his movements more aggressive. His teammates gave him space, sensing his simmering rage. 

By the time practice ended, Ruhaan was drained, both physically and mentally. As he sat in the locker room, staring at the letter in his hands, he thought of Roohi. Her gentle smile, her unwavering support—it was her love that had kept him going through the darkest times. 

He couldn’t let her find out about this. Not yet. This storm was his to weather, and he’d be damned if he let it touch her.