Canvas of Love

The fire ignites

The early morning mist hung low over the training grounds as the Indian Cricket Team assembled for another grueling practice session. 

The air was still, charged with anticipation for the match that lay ahead. But today, something was different—something in Ishan Kishan's eyes had changed.

Gone was the usual playful spark, replaced by a steely resolve that burned hotter than ever. Ishan's jaw was set, his shoulders squared, and his focus was sharper than the edge of a blade. He wasn't here to joke around or take things lightly today. He was here to prove a point—not just to himself but to Shubman Gill.

As Ishan picked up his bat, he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. The memory of Shubman's cold dismissal still echoed in his mind, fueling his determination. 

Shubman thought he was untouchable, that he could just brush off Ishan like he was nothing. Well, today, Ishan was going to make him eat those thoughts.

Without waiting for his turn, Ishan stepped into the nets, his eyes fixed on the bowler. 

The team around him noticed the shift in his demeanor, the way his usual lighthearted banter had vanished, replaced by a fierce intensity.

The first delivery came fast, but Ishan was faster. With a swift, powerful swing, he sent the ball crashing to the boundary. 

The shot was clean, effortless, but there was an edge to it—something raw and aggressive.

Another ball, another shot to the ropes. And then another, and another. Ishan was in a zone, playing with a ferocity that none of his teammates had seen before. 

He wasn't just practicing; he was attacking, as if each ball represented his frustration, his determination to be seen, to be acknowledged.

"Whoa, Ishan's on fire today." Hardik said, watching with wide eyes as Ishan sent yet another delivery to the boundary.

"Yeah, no kidding." Rahul agreed, shaking his head in amazement. "It's like he's playing with something to prove."

Rohit and Virat exchanged a glance, both of them nodding in silent agreement. They knew what it was like to have that fire, that drive to prove yourself against all odds. 

But even they were taken aback by the sheer intensity Ishan was bringing to the nets.

Ishan's aggressive streak continued to build, each shot more powerful than the last. His breath came in sharp bursts, his muscles tensed with each swing. 

He was relentless, refusing to stop, refusing to let up. Every ball that came his way was an opportunity to prove he was more than what Shubman thought of him.

The rest of the ICT watched in a mix of awe and concern. Even Abhishek, who was usually the first to crack a joke, stayed silent, his eyes glued to Ishan's every move. "I think Ishan's really trying to send a message today." Abhishek said quietly to Mayank.

"Yeah" Mayank replied, a hint of worry in his voice. "But I'm not sure if he's playing to prove a point to Shubman or to himself."

"Either way, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that fire." Abhishek said with a nervous chuckle.

As Ishan continued to smash the ball to all corners of the ground, his frustration only seemed to grow. 

He wasn't satisfied with just playing well—he wanted to dominate, to obliterate the image of the carefree cricketer everyone thought he was.

Shubman, standing at the edge of the nets, watched Ishan's display with his usual stoic expression. His arms were crossed, his face unreadable, but his eyes never left Ishan.