In the vibrant halls of their high school, Sara is a bright and ambitious Class 11 student who finds herself drawn to the carefree charm of Shubman, the popular Head Boy in Class 12. While Shubman dreams of becoming a professional cricketer, he rema...
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꧁・┆✦ʚ 𝚂𝚑𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚊𝚗'𝚜 ♡ 𝙿𝚘𝚟 ɞ✦ ┆・꧂
I was sitting in my room, minding my own business, when Mumma decided to go through my school bag. Really? Am I a kid? She never goes through Shahneel's bag or books, but here she was, flipping through mine.
Mumma frowned, holding up my Physics notebook. "Shubman, really? You've got the cricket team lineup in here?"
I shrugged. "I couldn't find any other notebook, Mumma. I just needed to jot it down quickly."
She raised an eyebrow and flipped through a few more pages. "Not a single page is complete. Why?"
I sighed. "I had rounds, Mumma," I said, hoping that would satisfy her.
She shook her head. "I don't know how the principal made you Head Boy."
Then she picked up my Chemistry notes, but before she could open it, I reached out. "It's fine, Mumma," I tried to say casually, but she was quicker, yanking the book away.
As she opened it, her expression changed from confusion to disbelief. The pages were filled with doodles, little sketches, and... FLAMES games.
"Seriously, Shubman?" Mumma looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Class 12 is a crucial year, and you're doodling and playing FLAMES in your Chemistry book?"
I looked down, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she'd caught me. And of course, that's when Papa entered the room, drawn by the commotion.
"Shubman," he said with a sigh, crossing his arms. "You have to take your studies seriously."
Here we go, I thought, as Papa continued, "You scored 70% in your boards in 10th. That's just not enough. Look at your younger sister, Shahneel—she scored 90% last year."
I knew exactly where this was headed. It always did. They wanted me to be like Shahneel, more focused, more dedicated. But that wasn't me. I'd already decided my path, and it didn't involve getting perfect marks.
Without another word, I turned and walked back to my room, closing the door behind me.
I slumped onto my bed, feeling a mix of frustration and guilt twisting inside me. It wasn't Shahneel's fault. She didn't ask to be the model student who could do no wrong. But every time Mumma and Papa compared us, it was like a spotlight was thrown on everything I wasn't.
Shahneel's knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. "Bhaiyya? Are you okay?"
I stayed silent, hoping she'd just go away, but she didn't. "Look, I know Mumma and Papa can be... a little intense about the studies thing. They just worry about you."
That was the last thing I wanted to hear. It felt like everyone around me was so caught up in academics, they couldn't understand what cricket meant to me. They couldn't see how much I was pouring into my game, my dream. But no, all that got washed away in the shadow of Shahneel's report card.
