Chapter 8: We tend to forget

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Ayush felt like a man on a tightrope, precariously balancing between academics and cricket

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Ayush felt like a man on a tightrope, precariously balancing between academics and cricket. Every spare moment was a decision - textbooks or bat? Library or nets?

The weight of expectation, both self-imposed and external, pressed down on him. He craved excellence in both spheres, and the relentless pursuit was starting to take its toll.

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(These scenes are flashbacks of the week which are bold*)

One afternoon, the aroma of samosas and laughter wafted from the canteen, a siren song to his rumbling stomach.

But just as he considered joining his friends, a mental image of his uncompleted science project flickered. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and started typing.

Guys, so sorry, occupied with a science project. Can't make it for lunch today. See you around!

He hit send, a pang of loneliness pricking at him, but the upcoming examinations loomed large. "Just a little longer," he muttered to himself, diving back into his studies.

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A few days later, his sister Aishwarya's birthday dawned. Ayush, caught in the throes of a particularly intense cricket practice session, lost track of time.

The coach was relentless, pushing them for that extra run, that perfect throw. By the time Ayush finally managed to break free, the clock struck 7:30 pm.

Disappointment gnawed at him. He raced home, visions of Aishwarya's disappointed face spurring him on. He burst through the door, ready to shower her with apologies and belated gifts, but the house was quiet.

The fairy lights twinkled, the remaining of birthday decorations drooped from the walls, and an empty cake plate sat on the table.

Aishwarya emerged from her room, her eyes red-rimmed. "Ayush Bhai," she said, her voice small. "Where were you?"

Shame washed over him. "Practice," he mumbled. "I lost track of time."

Aishwarya's shoulders slumped. "Everyone's gone. We even saved you some cake." She gestured to the plate with a forced smile.

Ayush felt a lump form in his throat. "I'm so sorry, Aishu. Happy birthday." He forced a smile, but it felt hollow. He'd missed a precious moment, another casualty in his relentless pursuit of excellence.

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Witnessing Ayush's struggle, a knot of worry tightened in the stomachs of his friends. They saw the dark circles under his eyes, the forced enthusiasm in his voice, the gaps in their once-frequent hangouts.

𝐈𝐈 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐈Where stories live. Discover now