In the bustling city of Mumbai, Aahan Shubman Gill, a training cricketer, lives a life driven by ambition and discipline. His days are filled with board meetings, high-stakes negotiations, and the constant pursuit of success. Despite his achievement...
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Ahaan sat on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, completely uninterested in the cricket match playing on the TV. Shubman, seated nearby, noticed his son's lack of attention but chose not to say anything at first. Aadhya and Sara, on the other hand, were watching the game intently, commenting on the batsmen's moves, but Ahaan remained oblivious. This match was crucial—it held valuable lessons for Ahaan as a young cricketer, but his mind was elsewhere.
As the match progressed, Ahaan still didn't lift his eyes from the phone. Shubman's frustration grew, though he stayed silent. When the game ended, Shubman stood up and left the room, his disappointment evident. This match could've helped Ahaan improve his skills, yet he seemed indifferent.
Later, when Shubman came back downstairs, nothing had changed—Ahaan was still engrossed in his phone. Shubman, now unable to contain his frustration, strode over, snatching the phone from Ahaan's hand.
"No phones from today," Shubman said sternly, his voice filled with controlled anger.
Ahaan looked up, startled. "Why?"
"Because you're distracted all the time!" Shubman's voice rose as he held the phone tightly. His patience had run thin.
Ahaan, feeling cornered, retorted, "You never took Aadhya's phone away! Why am I the one getting punished?"
Shubman shot back, "Because she does her work when she needs to. Don't compare yourself to her. Focus on yourself!"
The room fell silent, the tension between father and son hanging in the air. Shubman's words stung, and Ahaan felt the weight of the comparison. His jaw clenched as he stood up abruptly, his hands balled into fists.
"You always think she's perfect!" Ahaan shouted, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I'm never good enough, right?"
Shubman took a deep breath, his disappointment evident. "That's not what this is about, Ahaan. You need to take responsibility."
Ahaan stormed off, his chest tight with frustration. He slammed his door shut, seething. Aadhya, who had been quietly watching, followed him to his room a few minutes later, hoping to calm him down.
"Hey," she said softly, knocking on his door. "It's okay. Dad's just worried about you."
"Worried? He's always on my case!" Ahaan snapped, his voice sharper than intended. "You're the golden child. You never mess up, do you?"
Aadhya frowned, hurt by his words. "That's not fair, Ahaan. I mess up too. Dad's just trying to help you."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't feel like help," Ahaan shot back, his frustration boiling over. "You're always the one who does everything right. I'm the one who has to work twice as hard just to be noticed!"
Aadhya stepped closer, trying to stay calm. "Ahaan, this isn't about me. It's about you focusing on what's important. You know Dad only wants what's best for you."
