Sandcastles | A Virat Kohli Fanfiction

14 • the cup

Kavya's POV

There wasn't a single security guard anywhere along the entire perimeter of the park.

We walked two rounds of the park chit-chatting.

I saw a wide open area that led straight into the garden without having to climb any sort of fences.
We got inside, Virat behind me.
The leaves crunched beneath our footsteps and the sound of cuckoos echoed in the dense bunch of trees.

It was so dark that no sooner I turned asking Virat to be careful with his steps, he got his ankle twisted causing a cramp.

I made him sit on a bench nearby, scolding him simultaneously.

He had shut his eyes and screeched in pain sinking down into the deep plywood of the seat.
I bent lower and reached for his foot.

"Heyy! You don't have to do that. I'll be alright, it's completely fine." he said withdrawing his leg from my touch.

"It will hurt more if you don't shut up. Let me see it." I replied as illogically as it sounds.

The rain suddenly turned faster, its dampness sharp against his skin.
I moved his joints - clockwise and counterclockwise, while he stretched them in pain.

"It isn't hurting anymore." he said softly, looking straight into my eyes.
He cupped his hands onto my shoulder and pulled me up, making me sit next to him on the bench.

His visage had a tinge of wholesome gratitude and his eyes reflected his loss of words.

"Looking forward to the finals, skipper?" I asked just to eliminate the potential of an emotional breakdown from either of us.

"I am worried, to be honest.
You know, like I am happy, of course. But there's always a packet full of what-ifs at the back of my mind banging the door of my thoughts. What if I don't live up to the expectations these millions of people have from me? I hate losing."

I took out a water bottle from my bag, screwed it loose and gave it to him. He took two large sips and kept it between us.

"Virat, imagine the container of your worries is like a coffee cup. Everything that makes you anxious is more coffee in that cup. Should it get too full, then any bump is enough to make it overflow. What you need is to keep that cup more empty.

This nervousness is like salt, just a pinch adds flavor, yet too much ruins the entire dish. Fear can be motivation to better yourself, when combined with being a good sport and wanting what is best for others, it can bring positive results. A pinch of greed can help you to hang on to things you need for yourself or loved ones in your care. The trick of it all is to remember what is salt and what is food; the food is love, empathy, kindness, joy, compassion, positivity, presence, integrity. The salt is fear, hate, overthinking, anger, sloth. If you have vastly more food than salt, everything will be alright."

"How to keep the cup empty?" he asked after I finished saying what felt like a pre-battle speech delivered to soldiers. "Tell me, how to keep the cup empty?"

"Do THIS." I said pointing the space between us with my index finger and wrist pivoting.

"You can simply talk to me whenever you wish. We can relax together and maybe that's the only way I can help you keep the cup empty."

He nodded in response with a smile.

"Such difficult emotions are a windstorm, Virat. They keep going onward, trying to erode the most of you. After some time, the air is calm again and so are you. There is nothing to be done about them, just stay calm, do healthy things and then everything will be okay again," I assured him, with a pat on his moist back.

He listened as if my words were golden, perhaps some elixir he'd been waiting all his days to hear.

And in his words was a kindness, a concern that was so quick that, for him, it was natural. That attentiveness was a part of who he was and that was, if I'm honest, the most attractive feature I'd seen in a man for quite some time. And as the hours went by it became the best conversation I've ever had too, it flowed, with listening and intelligent responses.

We kept talking about every diverse thing under the sun. He felt much better and now there was nothing but laughter.

Our conversations were so much more than words. It was the smiles, the gentle shrugs and the light in our eyes.
That we were both elevated by each other's presence was obvious and even the silences were comfortable. They were moments to savour the company of the other and feel that sense of peace that comes from feeling loved and protected, within the arms of friendship.

At the fourth and a half hour of the day, we said goodbyes. He called a friend who came by to pick him up and I walked to my hotel. You see, I was always fond of walking.

---

I quietly unlocked the door of the room and found Monica having a great slumber - capturing the entire queen size to herself.

I was sleepy but not tired.
But there was an important meetup later that morning so I didn't want to look like a sleep-deprived patient.

The meeting started with a brief appreciation of my Coorg expedition, followed by approvals of certain new projects.

In the end, the council heads asked me to come forward and made the biggest announcement of the day :

I was assigned the England tour for a tentative period of 18 months!

I was unsure of how to react to it. A huge part of me jumped inside; it fluttered and flied so high that no gravity could ever bring it back to earth. But then there was this tiny sullen part which wanted to turn this offer down.
I had just began knowing Virat! I had just started making a home for someone in my heart.
How would he do without me? How could I keep his cup empty by running away from him?

Yet, despite this inner conflict between my two selves, I had a happy face which was enough for everyone else to assume I had agreed for the plan.

The rest happened so quick, I hardly had time to think in solitude.

I informed about this to dad and he was happy than ever. He wanted me to go.
"Life's showering you with some big bonuses. Time to get drenched in every drop of this opportunity, rocket." he said with an air of incredible energy in his voice. He called me rocket - especially when I made him proud.

His were the only words I listened to that evening. I had no time and peace to hear my own voice.

What was it that drew me back to Virat so much? I hated my state of mind; because it had turned into an utter mess when it wasn't even supposed to be messy.
If Virat had ever given me anything, it was only happiness and a sense of belonging. He couldn't be the reason to hurt myself.

I thought of writing an apology to him and send it before leaving for the airport. That's the least I could do to prevent him from hurting - and silently, to prevent myself from hurting even more.

The flight was to take off at 12:40 on the night of the IPL final.

I didn't want him to read the mail before the match, so I decided to write it at the last moment.

I hit the bed with a heartache coated with an insight into freedom. The mystery of my own feelings haunted me within that joy. The fact that I was on a pathway to both reward and a punishment at the same time, seemed like a draining challenge.

Not knowing why you feel what you feel is bad. But what's worse is not knowing how you feel in the first place.