BarHeen - From Ashes to Embrace

Signs of Change

The air was thick with tension, though no one was saying it out loud. The whispers around the Pakistan Cricket Board had been growing louder with every passing week, and while Babar Azam kept a calm exterior, inside, the unease was gnawing at him. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in the way certain board members had started avoiding eye contact, in the vague answers he received when he asked about future plans for the team.

Management was changing. Slowly, but surely, something was shifting behind the scenes, and Babar didn’t like it.

Sitting in the captain’s office, Babar tapped his fingers against the desk, lost in thought. Across from him, Shaheen Afridi leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, looking as relaxed as ever. But there was something different in the way he carried himself lately—something Babar couldn’t quite put his finger on. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, chalking it up to stress or fatigue. But now... it seemed more than that.

“Yaar, you’ve been quiet lately,” Babar said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Shaheen. “Everything okay?”

Shaheen looked up quickly, as if pulled from his own thoughts. “Huh? Yeah, of course,” he said, flashing a quick smile. “Just thinking about tomorrow’s practice.”

Babar nodded, though the explanation didn’t feel entirely convincing. Still, he dismissed it, refusing to let his mind wander too far down that path. Shaheen had always been a bit unpredictable, always in his own world when it came to cricket. That’s what made him so dangerous on the field—he lived in the moment, trusted his instincts. Babar had always admired that about him.

But lately, Shaheen’s behavior felt different. He was more distant, less involved in their usual conversations. Babar noticed it in the small things—Shaheen staying back after meetings with certain board members, skipping their usual dinners together, the quick glances he threw at Babar when he thought he wasn’t looking. Babar didn’t want to read into it. Shaheen was his friend. His closest friend. He wouldn’t...

No, it was nothing. It had to be.

“Anyway,” Babar said, clearing his throat and shifting the conversation. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Something’s been going on with the board. They’re being cagey about plans for the World Cup, like they’re hiding something.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... it feels like they’re cooking something behind my back.”

Shaheen’s expression faltered for just a second—so brief that Babar almost didn’t catch it. Almost.

“You think so?” Shaheen asked, his voice steady, though there was an edge to it. He moved from the wall and sat down, leaning forward slightly. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Babar admitted, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration seeping into his tone. “It’s just a feeling. They’ve been different lately. I’ve heard a few things, whispers mostly, but no one’s saying anything directly to me. And some of the decisions they’re making... they don’t add up.”

He looked at Shaheen, searching for reassurance, for that familiar camaraderie that had always been there between them. Shaheen was his sounding board, the one person he trusted to speak the truth. And yet, today, there was something off about the way Shaheen was reacting.

Shaheen looked away for a moment, his fingers tapping against his leg. Babar didn’t notice the subtle tension in his jaw, or the way his eyes darkened with guilt.

“Look, PCB has always been like this,” Shaheen said finally, trying to keep his tone casual. “You know how they are—always playing games, keeping people in the dark. But don’t worry about it, Babar. They know you’re the best captain for the team. You’ve led us through thick and thin.”

There was an odd hesitance in his words, but Babar, desperate for someone to tell him he was overthinking, nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “I’m just on edge lately.”

Shaheen shifted in his seat, the guilt gnawing at him now. He hated this. Babar was more than a captain to him. He was a friend, a brother. And here he was, playing a part in something that would break him. The board had approached Shaheen a few weeks back, subtly hinting at Babar’s potential resignation. They had painted it as a natural transition, but Shaheen knew better. This wasn’t about cricket; this was about politics.

He never wanted to betray Babar, but the temptation had been there. Captaincy. The dream of leading the national team. It was something he had always wanted, and it felt so close now. Too close to resist. He had told himself that Babar would never find out, that it was just a matter of time before the change happened. But now, sitting here, with Babar pouring out his concerns, Shaheen felt the weight of what he was doing crushing him.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the management,” Shaheen said, forcing a smile. “Focus on the World Cup. That’s all that matters right now.”

Babar nodded again, but his eyes remained distant, clouded with doubt. “I know... you’re right. It’s just... I can’t shake this feeling that something’s coming. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Shaheen’s heart clenched, but he said nothing. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Babar that the storm was already here.

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