This is a story of a girl who loves cricket and a guy who is a budding cricketer.
Akshara Sharma is a diehard fan of cricket. and Vikram Krishna is a budding cricketer.
what will happen when they cross paths? will they start a like or hate relati...
Dear readers,I want to start by saying how sorry I am for the unexpected hiatus. It's been two long months since I last uploaded a chapter, leaving you all hanging!🥺.To be honest, life had other plans. I've been navigating through some challenging times, and your patience and understanding mean the world to me.As a token of my apology and gratitude, I'm releasing the entire story in its entirety. You'll finally get to experience the culmination of the journey that's kept you invested.Thank you for sticking with me through the silence.
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Ara's POV:
The next morning, I wake up with a throbbing headache and a sense of overwhelming confusion. The events of the previous night are a hazy blur, but I remember the warmth of Vicky's presence. I had hoped we'd have a chance to talk and work things out, but when I check the time, I realize it's already late morning.
Panicked, I rush around the apartment, searching for any sign of Vicky. There's no note, no message—just an empty space where he should be. My heart sinks, and I feel a wave of guilt and sadness wash over me.
I glance at the calendar and the date hits me like a ton of bricks. How could I have forgotten? Tears begin to flow down my face, a mix of shame and sorrow.
I grab my keys and head out, buying a bouquet of flowers on the way. Driving to the cemetery, I feel the weight of my regrets pressing down on me. I lay the flowers gently on the grave and sit beside it, my heart heavy with guilt. "I'm so sorry for forgetting you," I say, my voice trembling.
"So much has been going on, and I lost track of the days. I didn't mean to forget."
I talk about everything that's been happening in my life, the struggles, and the confusion. My voice wavers as I recount the recent turmoil with Vicky and how everything seems to be falling apart. "There's someone in my life who's become incredibly important to me, but I've messed everything up. I wish I could make things right between us."
As I sit there, lost in my thoughts, a stranger approaches. He's an older man with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He takes a seat beside me and looks at the flowers. "Beautiful flowers," he says softly. "Are they for someone special?"
I nod, wiping my tears. "Yes, they're for someone I've lost. I've been struggling a lot lately, and I just feel so lost."
The man gazes at me with a thoughtful expression. "Sometimes, it's the people we care about the most who need to hear that we love them. Regret and guilt can cloud our judgment, but it's never too late to make things right."
His words cut through the fog of my emotions, and I feel a flicker of realization. "Do you think... Do you think it's too late to fix things with someone I care about?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
The man smiles gently. "If they mean a lot to you, then it's never too late. Actions speak louder than words, but a sincere heart can make a difference. Don't let fear or pride keep you from expressing what you truly feel."
As he stands up to leave, he places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Life is short. Don't wait for the right moment. Make it right now."
I watch as he walks away, his words echoing in my mind. I realize that Vicky has become such a significant part of my life, and I've been too stubborn and scared to admit my feelings. The realization hits me hard: I do love Vicky, and I need to make things right before it's too late.
I will talk to Vicky as soon as I go home, but I have places to be right now.
I spend the rest of the day running errands and trying to clear my mind, but the words of the stranger stick with me. I can't shake the feeling that I need to make things right with Vicky. As the sun sets, I know I need to head back home, but I also have some other places to be. The hours slip by, and I end up leaving only after 2 a.m., feeling both determined and anxious.
When I finally get home, the apartment is eerily quiet. I open the door, hoping to find Vicky waiting for me. Instead, I see him sitting on the couch, his expression a mix of frustration and worry. His arms are crossed, and he's clearly been waiting up for me.
"Where have you been?" Vicky's voice is sharp, and his tone carries the weight of his concern and anger. "It's after 2 a.m.!"I take a deep breath, feeling a pang of guilt.
"I'm sorry, Vicky. I had some things to take care of. I needed time to think."
He stands up, his frustration evident. "You think you can just disappear for hours and come back as if nothing happened? We need to talk, Ara. I've been worried sick!"
I wince at the harshness of his words, but I know they're coming from a place of care. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I just... I had to sort things out in my own head."
Vicky's expression softens slightly, but his frustration remains. "You could have at least let me know where you were. I was starting to think something happened to you."
"I didn't think it would be such a big deal," I respond, my voice tinged with defensiveness. "I needed space to think about everything that's been going on. It's been a lot, and I was trying to figure things out."
Vicky's eyes narrow as he takes a step closer. "And did you figure things out? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been avoiding the issue."
I scoff at Vicky's accusation, feeling a surge of frustration. "I've been avoiding!? I did try to talk to you! You shut the door on my face! You shut me out! Don't you dare say it was me who's been avoiding when you've been nothing but a coward to face me!"
The words leave my mouth in a rush, and as soon as I see the hurt in his eyes, I feel a wave of regret. My anger fades, replaced by a deep pang of guilt.
Vicky's face falls, the hurt evident in his expression. For a moment, the intensity of the argument hangs in the air, and I can see the pain in his eyes. I want to take back my harsh words, but it's too late now.
Vicky takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn't say anything else, just turns and walks towards the door.
I watch as he leaves, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on my shoulders. I feel a mix of sorrow and helplessness as I stand there, the silence of the apartment now feeling unbearably heavy.
I sink onto the couch, staring blankly at the door through which he just walked out. The tension and unresolved feelings between us seem to stretch out endlessly, and I'm left alone with my thoughts and regrets. I know we both have a lot to work through, but right now, it feels like we're both too broken to bridge the gap.
I hope that somehow, we can find a way to mend what's been torn, but as I sit there, the silence and the weight of the night's events press down on me.
