Shadows Of The Stumps

Chapter - 70

Rahul guided Meera outside, a teasing glint in his eyes as he led her to the gleaming bike parked on the curb. Meera’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Really, Anna?" she asked, eyeing the bike, then turning to him with a raised eyebrow. "The KL Rahul on a bike? If a fan spots you, drive khatam fir."

Rahul laughed, slipping on his helmet and giving her an encouraging nod. "Nobody will, bubba. Helmet hai na, no one will know. Now, betho."

But Meera folded her arms, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Ek minute—aap betho. I’m driving this time! You gave me enough rides on your cycle when we were kids.”

Rahul’s eyebrows shot up, clearly impressed. “You know how to drive?” he asked, half-amused and half-surprised.

Meera chuckled, taking the keys from him and tossing them into her own hand confidently. "Arjun ne sikhaya tha," she replied, a spark of pride in her voice.

Rahul laughed, shaking his head, but he felt a pang of guilt tugging at him as he realized just how many small moments he had missed in her life, moments where his little sister had learned, grown, and become the strong woman she was now. He felt that familiar regret settle in, the kind he could never entirely shake off.

But Meera, perceptive as ever, caught the faraway look in his eyes and promptly broke his thoughts. “Arey, betho na!” she called, grinning as she held out the backpack.

Snapping out of his reverie, Rahul smiled, his heart swelling with pride and affection. Without another word, he took the backpack and swung onto the seat behind her.

The bike hummed down the empty winter roads, the night quiet but alive with Meera and Rahul’s laughter echoing through the cool air. They sang along to songs from their childhood, belting out lyrics with no care if they were off-key. Each mile felt like peeling back time, layers of pain and separation momentarily forgotten as they relived memories of simpler days.

Eventually, Rahul brought the bike to a stop in an isolated, safe spot overlooking the distant city lights. Meera hopped off, rubbing her nose as the chill hit her, her breath visible in the cold night air. Rahul grinned, reaching into the bag Athiya had packed and pulling out a warm jacket, which he draped over her shoulders. He then poured steaming coffee from a flask into two cups, handing one to her.

“Athiya, the life-saver,” Meera laughed, taking a grateful sip.

They sat down on the grassy patch, letting the silence settle over them, the chill and stillness of the winter night grounding them both. Rahul took a breath, the memories from their childhood sparking in his mind. “Remember how we used to do this? Just you and me, cycling all day? Except back then, it was on my old cycle, or that tang in the summers when we’d sneak off.”

Meera’s face lit up, her eyes crinkling with laughter as the memory surfaced. "Oh God, the tang! I remember you wouldn’t let me have more than one glass,” she teased. “Said I’d spoil my appetite, as if that ever stopped me.”

They both laughed, the ease and comfort of those days palpable between them.

Rahul's expression softened as he looked at her, a shadow crossing his face. “This is what I wanted, Meeru,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you left, I was... I was devastated. I searched everywhere, until it felt like all that was left inside me was this hollow space.”

Meera listened quietly, her eyes starting to glisten as she took in his words.

“I wished for you in the stands, cheering my name whenever I scored. When I married Athiya, I wanted you there. I wanted you to meet Virat and the others, to watch you grow, take pride in who you were becoming. I wanted to see you dance, to teach you things I’d learned...”