Whispers of the Willow

Chapter 2 - Echo of Chimes

The room was shrouded in a comforting darkness, but a faint sliver of moonlight managed to slip through the partly drawn curtains. It painted a delicate pattern on the walls, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the space. The soft glow from the window danced upon Rudrakshi's face, casting a serene light on her features. The room was so quiet that she could hear the gentle rustling of leaves outside.

As the night went on, Rudrakshi's sleep had been disturbed, and she had tossed and turned, trying not to disturb Smriti, who lay soundly asleep beside her. Rudrakshi's movements were slow and deliberate, as if she was afraid of waking the peaceful slumber of her teammate. She watched as the soft moonlight fell on Smriti's face, highlighting her delicate features. Smriti looked like an innocent child, a slight smile gracing her lips, even in her sleep.

They hadn't talked much about the match when they returned to the room. It was more the laughter and joking, about the countless messages to reply to and the video calls with their families. The camaraderie and warmth they shared had always been a source of comfort in the midst of the intense tournament.

She faintly recalled Smriti leaving for dinner as she lay on the soft, her mind restless. And somehow, despite the restlessness, she had fallen asleep only to wake up in the middle of the night like this.

Quietly, Rudrakshi reached for the remote and switched on the TV at a low volume. The soft glow from the screen illuminated the room in a gentle, bluish hue, and she couldn't help but marvel at the way the artificial light interplayed with the moon's radiance. Perhaps watching the men's team win the match would lift her spirits.

She glanced around the room, the soft light from the television casting faint shadows on the walls. It was evident that she had probably slept through the entire evening, the darkness outside indicating the lateness of the hour. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, she noticed the untouched dinner tray on the table and remembered declining the invitation earlier.

The cricket match on the television had entered a crucial phase, probably in the last few overs of the second innings. Rudrakshi's eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell open in utter disbelief. Her expression was a picture-perfect "caught in the headlights" moment. The sight of Virat Kohli preparing to bowl the final over left her both surprised and slightly amused, as if she had stumbled upon a hidden treasure in the cricketing world. The required run rate was hovering around 8.00, and it seemed that he had even picked up a wicket.

Her thoughts began to drift from the match itself, focusing more on a certain Mr. Kohli. Quickly, she grabbed her phone, her fingers deftly navigating to search for the scorecard. The wicket must have been challenging to play on, perhaps due to the dew, which had likely increased since their women's team played earlier in the afternoon. Nevertheless, Virat Kohli stood as the top scorer, a true Mr. Invincible, entrusted with both scoring the runs and defending them in the final over.

The room's darkness, the glow from the TV, and the anticipation of the match created a unique ambiance, making her forget the earlier sense of restlessness. As she became more engrossed in the match, the noise from the TV distracted her from delving further into her thoughts.

Rudrakshi's attention shifted entirely to the television screen, and she watched with bated breath as Virat Kohli bowled the first ball of the last over.

The stadium was a breathtaking spectacle, illuminated with a sea of bright lights that danced across the stands. Indian fans, with their faces painted in the tricolour and the national flag flying high, exuded a palpable energy. Emotions ran high, from nail-biting tension to unbridled excitement. Every eye in the crowd was fixed on the man of the hour, Virat Kohli.

Virat's intense gaze was a sight to behold, his eyes filled with fiery determination. His dark, penetrating eyes seemed to pierce through the high-pressure atmosphere of the stadium, as if he could will the victory into existence.