Shadows Of The Stumps

Chapter - 50

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Day 2 of the test match dawned with an electrifying sense of anticipation. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden hue over the stadium. Meera arrived early, her heart racing with excitement for another day of cricket.

As she prepared for the day ahead, she noticed the officials whispering among themselves, casting sideways glances in her direction. The weight of their judgment hung thick in the air, making her feel acutely aware of her presence.

A senior official approached her, his expression stern. “Meera, can we have a word?” he said, gesturing for her to step aside.

A sense of dread washed over her as she followed him to a quieter corner. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with the players,” he began, his tone clipped. “I need to remind you that maintaining professionalism is essential. You’re here to support the team, not socialize with them.”

Meera’s heart sank. Heat rose to her cheeks as she nodded, trying to mask her frustration. “I understand, sir. I’m just trying to help in any way I can.”

As he walked away, she took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his reprimand settle heavily on her shoulders. This environment was so different from the missions at the academy, where her team understood the stakes, the seriousness, and the thrill of their tasks. Here, she felt like an outsider, bound by rules that stifled her spirit. The joy she found in her interactions with the players—sharing a laugh, discussing strategies—had suddenly become a liability.

As the players began to arrive at the stadium, a palpable energy filled the air. The buzz of excitement mixed with the scent of fresh grass and the sound of cricket bats thudding against balls.

“Good luck today, everyone!” she called out, her voice bright and enthusiastic. “Let’s make it a good one!”

“Thanks, Meera!” Yashasvi replied, flashing her a thumbs-up as he jogged past. Rishabh winked at her, and Shubman nodded appreciatively, their spirits visibly lifted by her presence.

When Virat approached, his expression shifted from intense focus to a softer warmth. “Hey, Meera! Why don’t you join us in the dressing room for the match?” he suggested, a hint of camaraderie in his voice.

Meera hesitated, her mind racing. “I appreciate the invite, but I think it’s better if I stay out here."

Rahul exchanged a curious glance with Virat, both sensing something off. Rohit noticed too but decided to take this conversation later, as Yashasvi and Shubman walked up to the crease, ready to bat.

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The lunch bell echoed across the stadium, signaling a break in what had been a brutal first session for India. They were 107 for 7, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Meera stood a little away from the team, her hands clasped behind her back, watching the players with a quiet sense of concern. It had been a disastrous session—everything had gone wrong, from poor shot selection to misjudged deliveries.

“107 for 7,” Rahul muttered under his breath, slumping down onto a bench in the dugout. “What a nightmare.”

Virat leaned against the railing, his jaw tight, tapping his fingers impatiently on the metal bar. “We can’t afford another day like this. One more wicket and we’re done,” he growled, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Rohit sat with his elbows on his knees, head bowed. “Feels like we’re throwing the match away.”

Just then, a fan broke through the outer barricade, sprinting toward the players in a frenzy, shouting their names.