Canvas of Love

Cracks in the Armor

The morning sun cast long shadows across the practice ground, signaling the start of another grueling day of training. 

Ishan's leg still ached from the hit he took the day before, but that didn't deter him. If anything, it fueled his determination. 

He wasn't about to let a bruise slow him down—not when he was set on proving his worth to Shubman and the rest of the team.

He walked into the dressing room, still turning the previous day's events over in his mind. 

The bouquet of sunflowers, the cryptic note about "pressure and passion" and the balm left on his table—whoever was behind these gestures was starting to get under his skin.

Ishan's thoughts were interrupted when Mayank and Abhishek entered, already deep in conversation. 

They stopped when they saw Ishan, their faces lighting up with mischievous smiles.

"Well, well, look who's here!" Abhishek teased, waggling his eyebrows. "Did your secret admirer drop off anything else overnight, or should we call for backup from Cupid?"

Ishan rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Knock it off, Abhishek. I don't have time for your drama this morning."

"Oh, come on, Ishan." Mayank chimed in, nudging his best friend. "You've got to admit, it's pretty interesting. A mysterious admirer, cryptic notes, and sunflowers of all things? It's like we're in a romance novel!"

"Or a mystery thriller." Abhishek added with a wink. "But let's be honest, it's way too romantic for a thriller. I think someone's got their eye on you, and they're just too shy to say it out loud."

Ishan snorted, shaking his head. "Shy, huh? I doubt it's anything like that. Probably one of you clowns trying to mess with me."

Mayank laughed. "You give us too much credit, Ishan. We're not that clever."

The banter between them continued as they made their way out to the practice field. Ishan's competitive spirit was in full swing, his focus sharper than ever.

 But the moment he spotted Shubman at the nets, his expression hardened.

Shubman was already at the crease, batting with his usual precision and intensity, every stroke calculated and powerful. 

There was a look of complete detachment on his face, as if the world around him didn't exist, and Ishan was just another player in the background.

Ishan clenched his jaw. Not today, Shubman, he thought to himself. He grabbed his bat and made his way to the neighboring net, determined to outshine his rival.

He started hitting the balls with newfound aggression, each swing of the bat sharp and forceful. Ishan's determination was palpable—he was playing like he had something to prove, not just to the team but to himself. 

The sharp crack of the bat meeting the ball echoed through the practice ground, drawing the attention of some of his teammates.

"Whoa, easy there, Ishan." Hardik called out with a laugh. "Trying to break the sound barrier or just the ball?"

"Both" Ishan shot back with a smirk, not taking his eyes off the bowler. He was relentless, pushing himself harder with every delivery, every shot more powerful than the last. Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn't care. 

He was playing for more than just the practice; he was playing to prove to Shubman that he wasn't someone to be underestimated.

From a distance, Shubman watched Ishan's intensity, his eyes narrowing slightly. His expression was as cold and unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of something else—something that no one else seemed to notice.