𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 [ Yashasvi Jaiswal ]

30

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆
Cringey and Couple-ly stuff

Do not read if you are not comfortable and single . I have only added sweet and some what cringey parts so skip if u hate fluff.

Yashasvi Jaiswal lay nestled in the cocoon of his bed, the remnants of a peaceful dream about cricket lingering in his mind. In his reverie, he found himself on the lush green grounds of the Sawai Mansingh Stadium, the home ground of the Rajasthan Royals. The sun bathed the stadium in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows that danced along the pitch.

Yashasvi could feel the weight of his bat in his hands, its familiar heft grounding him in the moment. He stood at the crease, the bowler in his approach, eyes fixed on the red cherry hurtling towards him. With practiced precision, he executed a perfect cover drive, the ball sailing effortlessly past the fielders into the boundary. The crowd erupted in cheers, a symphony of encouragement and support that washed over him like a wave of pure exhilaration.

As he ran between the wickets, each step felt lighter, freer. He glanced towards the stands, catching a glimpse of Divya, his physiotherapist, smiling proudly. Her presence on the sidelines always gave him an extra burst of motivation. Her belief in him mirrored his own passion for the sport, and in that shared devotion, they found a connection that transcended the boundaries of their professional roles.

Yashasvi relived his finest innings, each shot a testament to his dedication and skill. The game flowed seamlessly, his movements fluid and decisive. He felt unstoppable, every stroke of the bat resonating with power and precision.

But just as he prepared to launch another soaring shot over the boundary, a distant sound intruded upon his dream—a persistent ringing that grew louder with each passing second. Yashasvi frowned, trying to cling to the remnants of his cricketing fantasy, but reality tugged at him insistently.

The doorbell.

With a reluctant sigh, Yashasvi's eyes fluttered open, his dream slipping away like morning mist under the rising sun. He lay in bed for a moment, disoriented by the abrupt transition from the cricket field to his bedroom. The echo of the doorbell persisted, a persistent reminder of the world outside his dreams.

Pushing himself upright, Yashasvi ran a hand through his tousled hair and scratching his bare chest , his mind still clouded with the remnants of his cricket dream, blinked away the last traces of sleep as the doorbell persisted in its insistent ringing. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool floor. The warmth and comfort of his dream slowly gave way to the reality of another day.

Stretching his arms overhead, Yashasvi stood up, his tall frame towering over the bed. He glanced around his room, still half-lit with the early morning light filtering through the curtains. The echoes of his dream lingered—a mix of the exhilaration of playing at Sawai Mansingh Stadium and the presence of Divya, his physiotherapist, whose smile had been a beacon of support even in his subconscious.

As the doorbell continued its persistent chime, Yashasvi padded across the room, his steps light but purposeful. The ringing grew louder, punctuating the quiet of his hotel room .

Reaching the front door, Yashasvi hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. He wondered who could be at his door so early in the morning. His teammates occasionally dropped by, but this was too early for  them since they returned late last night