Shadows Of The Stumps

Chapter - 61

Athiya rushed through the stadium, her heart pounding as Meera’s urgent call echoed in her mind. The atmosphere was thick with tension, officials whispering anxiously, their faces grim. She spotted Meera at one corner, standing tense and silent, her bandaged hand a stark reminder that something had gone horribly wrong.

Before she could reach her, Rohit approached, his expression serious, his eyes shadowed with concern. “Athiya, listen,” he began softly, ushering her forward as they walked toward the quarters where Rahul lay. “There was an attack—someone got close to him with a knife. Meera managed to intervene, but Rahul hit his head. He’s unconscious, but he’ll be fine.” His tone was gentle but held a weight that settled like a stone in Athiya’s chest.

As they entered the quarters, her gaze landed on Rahul, lying still and pale. Virat sat beside him, his hand resting on Rahul’s shoulder as though anchoring him in this moment. Athiya’s heart twisted painfully. This wasn’t just an accident or a sports injury—it was an attack, all because of Rahul’s dedication, his performances on the field. How had things escalated to this point?

She couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt. Maybe she should have talked to Rahul about the trolls more openly, or convinced him to take a step back until the pressure eased. And though she knew Meera had done all she could, there was a part of her that wished her sister-in-law could have somehow prevented this. But these thoughts quickly fell away, replaced by the overwhelming relief that Rahul was alive and breathing.

Athiya’s legs felt weak, and she stumbled slightly. Rohit steadied her, and Virat looked up, his gaze understanding. “Athiya, he’ll be okay. He’s a fighter,” Virat said, his voice steady but gentle, as though reassuring her as much as himself.

Athiya knelt beside Rahul, brushing a hand over his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, her silent tears reflecting both relief and fear. “I was so scared,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone in particular. Rohit placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Virat squeezed her hand, grounding her.

Colonel catches Meera’s eye just as she prepares to continue with the formalities. His voice cuts through the tense air, firm yet unexpectedly gentle.

“Go ahead, Meera. Take Rahul, Athiya, and everyone else home. We’ll handle the rest here.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in Meera’s expression, a reflex born from years of disciplined responsibility. But the colonel’s look is steady, a silent reassurance that the weight of the situation doesn’t fall on her alone.

______________________

As the cars pulled up to Rahul’s place, Virat, Rohit, Shubman, and Rishabh stayed back, the others somehow persuaded to go home and rest. Ritika and Anushka had arrived as well, with their children in tow, a small sense of family warmth against the tense atmosphere.

Rahul had been given his privacy with Athiya by his side, still unconscious but finally home. Virat sat slumped on the couch, looking more vulnerable than anyone had seen him before, with Anushka by his side, gently rubbing his arm in comfort. Their daughter Vami and son Akaay lay peacefully asleep beside them, unaware of the weight hanging in the room. Ritika sat next to Rohit, their daughter Sammy nestled on her father’s lap, holding tightly onto him as though she sensed her father needed it as much as she did. Rishabh and Shubman were quiet, huddled in one corner, both of them unusually silent.

Meera came down the stairs and took in the scene before her. She knew the feeling running through each of them—that sickening realization that it could’ve been so much worse, and that it could be any one of them lying unconscious instead of Rahul.

Steeling herself, she stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “You’re all fine, and you’ll continue to be fine, okay? Don’t worry. You play because you love it—this is your passion, your life. These are just external factors, and I promise they won’t affect you anymore.” Her words were met with quiet nods, though the tension still hung in the room. Sensing it, Meera ended with a small smirk. “Honestly, I should ask the Colonel to increase my pay. It’s not just management—I’m doubling as your mental coach, too."