Sandcastles | A Virat Kohli Fanfiction

06 • the sunday

Kavya's POV

For the first time in a long time, I had spent a Sunday doing almost nothing but reading a classic novel while slouching on the couch. I often fancy myself a regency era lady; considering my exceptional love for solo long walks and soulful music to pass my leisure time - except the fact that I do not receive invites for a ball to dance with handsome men of wealth and regard - but okay.

Washing away the day's idleness along with the dishes, I said good night to dad and kissed Sparkle, my dog, on his nose and went to my room.

As I was about to switch off the table lamp, my phone beeped. It was an email notification from a user -
| viratk235@hotmail.com - Virat Kohli |

I could feel a sudden and incomprehensible pause in my heart's rhythm as I clicked open the mailbox.

"Hey! Virat here. I assume it's the same Kavya Vohra I met yesterday. I actually connected because I couldn't quite thank you properly last night. I hope you accept my heartfelt gratitude, madam. *winks* "

I had almost thought that our acquaintance was merely for that one day and we'd never get to interact again. But he found me!

And I registered the last word of the mail so sharply that I carried the flow of flirting further.

"I can't believe you found my contact! Will I have the opportunity to know HOW though?!"

"Requires some significant stalking skills. Chefs don't share their recipes, come on."

"Alright!"

I later thought that I should have replied something better but an email once sent, cannot be taken back. I waited for a while till the expected name showed up again on my screen.

"Today was a bit unusual, you know. Like on other days, I feel being dragged to the nets and the studio. But today, I did all of it without any lack of audacity. I feel recharged, precisely."

"You are a human, after all. There will be times when you'll have the least inclination to even stand up, and there will also be times when you'll fly unstoppably. Stop treating yourself like a coffee machine and be kind to the man in the mirror."

I have always believed that I am not capable of texting wisely after 9 pm, and I blabber things which might make me want to regret in the future, but again - an email once sent cannot be taken back.

And surely, a message as attacking as that required a considerable time to be thought upon and responded. I had no idea what that did to him.

"I can't type things into words right now. And I have a big match tomorrow. So, what does it take to get your phone number?"

"Um, you'll know that after the match. Maybe?"

"It will be at 4 in the afternoon, against the Gujarat team. You'll see me in green."

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther."

"AND WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??"

"It's a quote from The Great Gatsby. We had it at the university. You never read it?"

"I don't read much. But I have screenshotted that quote to infer something sensible from it if possible - after the match. Maybe, as you said."

"Tomorrow will be my first cricket game! (as a spectator, of course)"

"I feel nervous now. 'Tomorrow' will decide if you'll become a fan or a critic. I gotta do well."

"It won't decide. I will always be the Kavya you met in the cafe. The girl who equally loves the ocean and the sky, in all their gorgeous colours. And you will do well. Not for the fact that it will shape my opinion or your image, but simply because you are best at being the best. Sleep now, Mr Overthinker! Good night."

With that been sent, I switched off my phone quickly. I knew he wouldn't reply to that. Nor did I expect him to.

I fell asleep with the curiosity to watch him play the next day. Watching someone on the screen who had hung out with me a day before! What an upside-down sequence of reality!

At around 11 the next morning, Virat mailed me his phone number attaching a photograph of his wallet in which he had safely kept the paper on which I had signed. I had never felt being so important to someone, definitely not to a people's superstar.

I finished the portfolio after lunch and when I returned to my office desk, I found an envelope with my name on it.
It was a letter from the management assigning me the Coorg project all by myself. I had always wanted to grab prospects; so I was not going to let this one go.

Before planning my own itinerary, I had a big task to do! The 4 pm green game!