The carefree joy of the drive back to Ahmedabad was shattered by a jarring ring. Shubman, reached out and answered the car's Bluetooth.
"Hello, Yash," he said, his voice cautious.
Yash's voice, usually brimming with cheer, crackled through the speaker, laced with a sharp edge. "Hello? Velo chodo, kahan marr gaye salo?"
Ishaan, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush of their secret escapade, couldn't resist a playful jab. "We drove to Mount Abu, you missed out because you were busy sleeping," he teased, a nervous undercurrent colouring his voice.
The response was immediate, and not what Ishaan had expected. "Mount Abu?" Yash shrieked. "Yahan Rohit bhai tumhare abbu yaad dila denge tumko!"
A cold dread seeped into the car. Dev choked out, "Rohit bhai ko pata chal gaya?"
"Tum log yahan dikhe nahi toh they asked around and finally they went to the reception and found out you took the hotel car and are yet to return," Rutu explained rapidly over the phone.
Yash's voice, laced with a mixture of anger and concern, cut through the tense silence. "Aur tum log pagal ho gaye ho kya? Rajasthan kon jata hai ghoomne raat ko? Itni chul machhani thi to IPL ka wait karte mai ghuma lata, abhi jaldi aa jao!"
The phone call ended abruptly, leaving an even heavier silence in its wake. Shubman stared at Ishaan, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. "Marr gaye," he muttered, the weight of their impulsive decision settling in.
In the back seat, Abhi tried to calm down a hyperventilating Dev, his own heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
The hotel lobby greeted them with an unsettling quiet, a stark contrast to the carefree energy that had filled the car just moments ago. They surrendered the car key, a collective sigh escaping their lips as they stepped into the elevator. Their only hope was to reach their floor unnoticed, to avoid the inevitable confrontation with the two captains.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans. As the elevator doors slid open, revealing their designated floor, they were met with a sight that sent shivers down their spines. Standing there, arms crossed and expressions thunderous, were Rohit and Virat.
"Kidhar?" Rohit boomed, his voice echoing in the sterile hallway.
The air crackled with tension. The boys, faces pale and eyes downcast, could only shuffle their feet in response.
"Saare chup chap mere kamre chalo," Rohit instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument.
With the weight of their transgression pressing down on them, they followed like obedient sheep, heads hung low in a show of remorse.
Inside the room, Virat, ever the more composed of the two, took charge. "Kahan gaye the tum log?" he asked, his voice firm but laced with a hint of concern.
A beat of silence stretched, thick with unspoken defiance. Finally, Abhi stammered out a weak, "Yahani par virat bhai,"
Rohit's eyes narrowed. "Dekho, jhooth mat bolo," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. But the boys remained silent, a wall of silence they hoped would somehow protect them from the inevitable storm.
Virat, sensing their fear, pressed on. "Dev Bacche batao," he urged gently.
Dev, his voice barely a whisper, broke the tense silence. "Mount Abu," he confessed.
Virat frowned. "Kahan?"
"Mount Abu," Dev repeated, a touch louder this time, a flicker of defiance entering his voice.
"Rajasthan?" Virat echoed, disbelief colouring his tone.
The question hung heavy in the air. Then, Rohit exploded. "Rajasthan??" he roared, his voice shaking the very walls of the room. "Ja maila mera bat kidhar hai? Raat ko? Pagal kuthe ne kata hai kya tumko?"
The boys flinched at his outburst, scrambling to their feet in a desperate attempt to appease him. But Rohit's anger was a raging inferno, fueled by a cocktail of worry and betrayal.
"Akal vakal kute tumcha haan? Abu ABU??" he thundered, his voice laced with a terrifying mix of fury and fear. "Shant, Rohit," Virat interjected, placing a placating hand on his shoulder. "Shant kai shaant? Inko kuch ho jaata toh?"
An hour later, the boys emerged from Rohit's room, their ears ringing from the lecture and their spirits dampened by the gruelling extra training session promised as punishment. The weight of their transgression hung heavy in the air as they shuffled towards their own room, the once exciting adventure now a source of regret. With a flight to catch in an hour, packing became a hurried affair, punctuated only by remorseful sighs and stolen glances.
Just as Shubman finished shoving clothes into his bag, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. A glimmer of normalcy flickered in his eyes as he saw the name flash on the screen - Armaan, his cousin.
"Armaan, what's up? Bade din baad yaad aayi meri, how's Australia treating you, buddy?" he greeted, his voice laced with a forced cheer.
"Great, tu kaisa hai?" Armaan replied, his voice carrying across the miles.
"I am fine, only. I have a flight for Mumbai in 3 hours, so I am getting ready," Shubman answered, his fingers instinctively fiddling with the zipper of his bag.
"Will you be free around 5 today?" Armaan's question hung in the air.
"Yeah? Anything urgent?" Shubman asked, a spark of curiosity flickering amongst the lingering worry.
"Not urgent, but important. I'll call you then. Also, heads up, a friend Anya will be on the call too," Armaan said before the line went dead.
Shubman stared at his phone, the weight of his recent escapade momentarily forgotten. As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, only one question bothered him " Who the hell is anya?"
YOU ARE READING
ENCHANTED, shubman gill
Fanfiction"Growing up, you worshipped Tendulkar like a god, while I was a die-hard Ponting fan, I'm not sure this will work out" or When an F1 journalist crosses paths with a star cricketer, sparks ignite. But there's a hurdle: she proudly sports the colour...
