WICKETS AND WIDGETS

Back To Mumbai

She sat up abruptly, disbelief written all over her face. "What do you have to do with him anymore? He hurt you, Aryan. He broke your trust. Why would you go back to him, especially now?" Her words cut through me, a mix of concern and frustration.

"I don't know, okay!" My frustration erupted into a shout, tears welling up in my eyes. "I can't just sit here and pretend everything's fine while he's fighting for his life. I can't, Mom. I know it doesn't make sense, it's probably stupid, but I can't shake this feeling. I have to go."

Her gaze softened, but determination hardened her features. "Fine, then. Go ahead. You've already made up your mind."

In that moment, nothing else mattered. I turned away, my heart heavy with conflicting emotions, and rushed upstairs to pack my belongings and arrange a flight. The urgency of the situation drowned out any doubts or hesitations.

Late into the night, I found myself at the airport, boarding a flight bound for Mumbai. Taking my seat, a storm of emotions churned within me. Regret, anger, hatred, fear, and anxiety intertwined, creating a tangled web of conflicting feelings. I closed my eyes, seeking a moment of calm amidst the turbulent sea of emotions before reaching my destination.

As the plane took off, I couldn't shake off the heavy weight of emotions that seemed to suffocate me. Memories flashed before my closed eyes, each one a sharp reminder of the tumultuous journey that had brought me here.

Hours passed in a blur, the city lights of Mumbai coming into view as the plane descended. With each passing minute, my resolve strengthened, and by the time I landed, a sense of determination had replaced the chaotic mix of emotions that had plagued me earlier. I was ready to face whatever awaited me at the hospital, for better or for worse.

Exiting the airport, bag in hand, I breathed in the familiar air of Mumbai. "Back to where I ran away from," I murmured to myself. With my phone in hand, I dialed Siraj's number. "Hey, where should I head to?"

His voice sounded surprised. "You're already here?"

I hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for him to provide the address of the hospital. After a brief exchange about Kabir's condition, the call ended. I hailed a cab and gave the driver directions to the hospital, my mind racing with thoughts of what awaited me there.

As I entered the hospital ward where Kabir was admitted, the first person I saw was Sana, her tear-streaked face instantly grabbing my attention. Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, widened as they met mine. Without a moment's hesitation, she jumped up from her chair and rushed over, enveloping me in a tight hug. "Where were you, Singh? Why didn't you return any of my calls?" she asked, her voice filled with concern and a hint of frustration.

"I, uh..." I struggled to find the right words.

Raghav approached, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You're okay, right?" he inquired, his eyes scanning me for any signs of distress.

"Yeah," I nodded, though my heart wasn't fully in it. I glanced between Sana and Raghav, feeling the weight of their worry and support. "Um, could I go and see Kabir now?"

Sana nodded eagerly, stepping back to give me space. With a deep breath, I made my way to Kabir's room. As I reached for the door handle, a sense of apprehension washed over me. Pushing the door open, I instantly regretted my decision as six pairs of eyes turned towards me, leaving me feeling utterly exposed and trapped.

As I glanced around, I caught sight of familiar faces like Siraj and Yashasvi. I nodded towards them in acknowledgment before turning to face the unfamiliar ones. Though I knew who they were—after all, they were famous—I was a stranger to them.

"I am—" I began, only to be swiftly cut off by Ishan, the shortest among them.

"We know who you are," he said, his tone curt.

"Right," I muttered, my words trailing off.

Rohit, the captain of Team India, stepped forward, his expression serious. "You're aware of everything that transpired here, aren't you?" His gaze bore into me, adding to the weight of their collective scrutiny.

I nodded, feeling the gravity of the situation intensify with each passing second.

"This must stay within these walls. The media can't catch wind of it," Rohit emphasized, his words a reminder of the delicate balance we were treading.

Once again, I nodded in agreement, the weight of their expectations settling heavily upon my shoulders.

"Also, don't try anything funny because we're keeping an eye on you. You've hurt him before, and I doubt any of us will let you do it again," Rohit said, his gaze intense and accusing.

I frowned, momentarily forgetting the celebrity status of the person in front of me. "Hey, you're going a bit overboard, don't you think? I respect you and all, but accusing me like this and using that tone—it's not right."

He looked taken aback, clearly not expecting me to push back.

Ishan stepped in, starting to defend Rohit, but I interrupted. "No, I understand. Kabir looks all fragile and sad, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. Because obviously, he's a saint who never makes mistakes. He's signed up for a lifetime of pain without ever hurting anyone else, right?" I gestured towards Kabir lying in the hospital bed, connected to tubes and monitors, his innocent appearance contrasting with the complexities of our situation.

"Aryan, let's not get agitated," Yashasvi intervened calmly. "We just need to understand what happened."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, frustration bubbling inside me. "And that's precisely why none of you should be pointing fingers at me. You don't even know the full story. For your information, Rohit," I locked eyes with him, "Your young player was the one who messed up. He ended things with me, made mistakes, and now he's lying there like a victim. But despite all that, I rushed here the moment Siraj called because I genuinely care. I care!" My words were laced with a mix of anger and hurt, the emotions raw and palpable in the tense atmosphere.

He rubbed his temples and took a step back, muttering, "Alright, note to self: steer clear of love matters."

I couldn't help but crack a small smile at his reaction. The tension in the room eased as I visibly relaxed. "Listen, everyone," I addressed the group, "I apologize for coming across like a grumpy old man with indigestion issues. The truth is, I was also upset, and I genuinely care about Kabir just like all of you. You don't need to worry about me violating his privacy or causing any trouble because that's not who I am."

"Yeah, guys," Siraj chimed in, his tone carrying a sense of familiarity. "That's the Aryan I know. He's usually so kind and gentle."

Ishan nodded cautiously, adding, "Unless he's genuinely upset."

I managed a nervous smile, realizing that my anger could be quite intense. But then again, they had unfairly accused me, so maybe they needed a bit of a wake-up call.

As they left one by one, I was finally alone with Kabir, who seemed unaware of the tension. Before Siraj could leave, I pulled him aside quietly. "What happened?"

He hesitated, then admitted, "He took some pills. He should be okay by morning."

I nodded, the gravity of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. After Siraj departed and closed the door, I moved towards Kabir's bed, my face a mask of conflicting emotions. With a gentle touch, I brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, my voice barely above a whisper. "I"Just give me one reason not to hate you, Kabir," I whispered to myself. "Just one, a single reason to love you, to stay by your side, and to not carry this resentment for the rest of my life."

As I sat beside his bed, watching him sleep, I couldn't help but ponder how, even after all this time, I found myself drawn back to the man who had brought me so much pain. It felt like fate was conspiring to keep us connected, despite the tumultuous history between us. Yet, at the same time, I couldn't ignore that this very person lying here was the cause of my father's absence from my life.

"I want to hate you forever, but my heart won't let me. Your suffering shows me that you regret your actions more than you admit." Closing my eyes, I murmured, "No matter how much I try, I just can't bring myself to hate you."