Bade Sapne

◇ Part 4 ◇

Shubman's POV

I slammed the door of the apartment shut behind me, the sound reverberating through the empty hallway. My chest was heaving, and I was pissed. Actually, no—I was furious. At myself, at Vira, at the entire fucking situation. My fists clenched by my sides as I stormed into the living room, the image of Vira laughing with Ishan flashing in my mind like a bad highlight reel I couldn't shut off.

I threw my duffle bag across the room, not caring where it landed, and sank onto the couch, my face buried in my hands. Practice had been a disaster today, and it wasn’t the first time. I couldn’t focus. Every swing felt off, every move felt sluggish, like my body was in revolt. Every time I stepped onto the field, the only thing I could think about was her.

It was fucking pathetic. I was fucking pathetic.

Vira had this grip on me—this chokehold that I couldn’t shake. The more I tried to pull away, the tighter it got. And now? Now I was playing like shit, my teammates were frustrated with me, and I had Abhishek on my case constantly. Telling me to "move on," like it was that simple. Like there was an off switch for my emotions, and I could just flip it whenever I wanted.

I let out a growl of frustration, my hands tugging at my hair. Goddamnit, Shubman. Get your shit together.

The worst part? I wasn’t angry at Vira, or even at Ishan. I was angry at myself—for being stupid enough to fall for her in the first place. For thinking I could handle this. It was like every moment I spent distancing myself from her was actually pushing me deeper into this mess. The more I tried to act normal, the more not normal everything became.

I heard the door open behind me, and Abhishek walked in, his face serious. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching me from across the room like he was waiting for me to explode.

"How was practice?" he finally asked, his voice cautious, like he already knew the answer.

I didn’t even look at him. I just shook my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "A complete fucking disaster, that’s how."

Abhishek didn’t seem surprised. He dropped his keys on the table and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "What happened?"

"What didn’t happen?" I snapped, standing up and pacing the room. "I missed simple catches, botched passes, couldn’t even concentrate for five minutes straight. Coach pulled me aside and asked me if something’s wrong, and I couldn’t even fucking lie to him. I told him I was just 'off,' but you and I both know what’s going on, Abhi."

He watched me carefully, and then he sighed. "This thing with Vira, it's eating you from inside, man."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," I muttered, throwing myself back onto the couch. My legs bounced with restless energy as I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, running my hands through my hair again. "I tried, okay? I tried to stay away from her, to keep my distance, but it’s not working. The more I avoid her, the worse it gets. I’m falling for her even harder, and it’s screwing with everything. My head’s all over the place, and now I’m fucking up my career too."

Abhishek stayed quiet for a second, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "You can’t keep going on like this, Shub. It's not just your game. This is going to blow up in your face."

"You don’t think I know that?" I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. I wasn’t mad at Abhishek—I was mad at myself. "I know it’s going to blow up. It already is. And now, I can’t even look her in the eye without wanting to tell her everything. But I can’t tell her, Abhi! She’s with Ishan!"

Abhishek stepped closer, dropping onto the couch beside me. "Listen, bro. I get it. You’re in love with her, and yeah, it’s a shitty situation. But you’ve got to do something about it. You’re going to keep spiraling like this, if you don't tell her."