WICKETS AND WIDGETS

Emotion Called Love

Hey everyone, this chapter might be shorter compared to the others, but it's a healing moment amidst all the recent drama. It's all about Aryabir, offering a respite and a chance to unwind from the intensity of the storyline. Might also be the last update for a while.

"Alright, guys, I think it's time for me to head home," Raghav announced. "Aryan, are you planning to go home as well?"

I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. "Nah, I've already made arrangements for my neighbors to take care of my puppies, so there's no need for me to rush home. Plus, I feel it's important to stay by Sana's side during this time."

"You're free to head home if you want. I'll stay here with her," Kabir remarked, giving me a meaningful look.

I shook my head once more. "Nah, I'm fine. It's not like I have a super important job to rush to. But you, on the other hand, play for the nation. You might be called for practice by your teammates. So, if anything, you should be concerned about yourself. I suggest you go home and get some rest."

"I'm staying right here. Plus, it's IPL season, and I've already informed the director about needing an urgent leave due to a personal emergency," Kabir replied calmly, his dedication evident.

"Alright then, I'll see you all here tomorrow morning," Raghav said before leaving the room with a soft thud.

Kabir walked over to the balcony, leaning on the railing as he took in the breathtaking dusk scenery of the city. I joined him, standing by his side, and we both soaked in the city lights from the balcony in a comfortable silence, sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the bustling city.

Breaking the quietude, I asked, "Do you believe in fate?"

His gaze remained fixed on the city's lively panorama. "Why this sudden question?" he inquired without shifting his focus.

"Just humor me," I replied, my eyes tracing the emergence of stars in the sky.

After a brief pause, he responded, "I don't."

"Oh," I murmured. "Why not?"

"Because there's no way fate could be as cruel and dreadful as it's been for me and my sister. Fate is just a fanciful notion, a tale spun by our mother," he explained with a touch of bitterness.

Intrigued, I leaned in closer. "What stories did she tell you both?"

"She talked about these romantic notions, like how fate brings people together and makes them belong to each other. According to her, there's this special person out there just for you, and it's up to fate to bring you together. It sounded nice, but I never really bought into it," he explained, his tone tinged with a hint of skepticism, as if reflecting on his mother's words with a more mature perspective.

As I traced my fingers along the cold railing of the balcony, I couldn't help but ask, "What's your take on fate?"

In the gentle glow of the evening stars, his eyes reflected a profound sorrow. "I've always seen fate as cruel, and I'm not mistaken, at least from where I stand," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his experiences. "For me, fate isn't a sweet or hopeful notion. It's something I've tried to escape—a bad fate that started wrong and seems destined for a grim end."

"Why do you feel that way?" I asked gently, bracing myself for his answer.

"My childhood memories, the happiness I felt then, it was all a facade," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. "Believing my dad was a hero, that was just a story I told myself. Thinking my mother was happy, that was a misconception. Believing my sister was leading a good life without me, that was a delusion. Everything in my life, every belief I held dear, turned out to be a falsehood. It's almost like fate was dropping hints early on that things would turn sour as I grew older, and they did. The moment the lies unraveled, one truth remained. I thought I was content, even alone, but that too was a lie."

Gently, I traced my fingers along his palm resting on the railing, my warmth enveloping his cool hand. "I've been where you are," I whispered softly, my voice filled with intimacy. "I used to view everything through a negative lens, feeling lost in darkness and falling into unhealthy habits. There were moments when I felt like giving up, but I'm glad I didn't."

"What happened?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Well, my story isn't as harrowing as yours, but the pain was real," I began, my tone laced with a mix of sadness and understanding. "You see, my family was a picture of happiness, something I cherished deeply. That is, until one day in high school, I discovered I was adopted."

He listened intently, his hand now intertwined with mine, offering warmth and solace in his silent presence. It was as if my pain was reaching him, bridging a connection that words alone couldn't convey.

As I continued, the weight of my words carried a depth of emotion. "Being adopted wasn't inherently a bad thing, and I know that now, but back in high school, it felt like a betrayal. It shattered my trust in my parents, even though they weren't my biological ones. I ran away from home with tears streaming down my face, feeling lost and abandoned."

He nodded, a silent understanding passing between us.

"I spent days wandering the city streets, feeling like a stray with no place to belong. But amidst the loneliness and despair, a realization struck me—I was fortunate. Despite the pain and confusion, I had a home to return to, a sanctuary where I was cared for and loved," I concluded, the rawness of those memories still palpable in my voice.

"You were pretty brave," he remarked casually. "Braver than me, I'd say. You just accepted the truth and moved on, while I struggled with it. Maybe that's why things turned out differently for us."

"Maybe," I said nonchalantly, "But that's not the end of my story. It's just a chapter." I leaned in, my voice gaining weight. "I grew up in a small town, where news traveled faster than light. When word got out about my adoption and my brief escape from home, it spread like wildfire. It didn't take long for my classmates to know, and suddenly, I was the odd one out."

"You were bullied" He remarked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah," I confirmed softly, "Walking into class that day, I could feel their judgmental stares, their disdain. I was instantly labeled as an orphan, and no matter how hard I tried to escape that label, it stuck to me like glue. It was painful to accept, but it was my reality."

"Blood ties don't always matter," he remarked casually. "I had my biological family around, but look at how it turned out for me."

"You know, looking back, my younger self didn't grasp this," I reflected. "I spiraled into darkness, losing my friends and becoming a loner until graduation. Bad habits crept in, like smoking, and it took a toll on my health. I ended up in the hospital, and when I woke up, there were two people by my side—Dad and Ma. They proved that blood doesn't define family. We accepted each other's flaws and loved deeply. Love, not blood, forms the strongest bonds."

"Love does create the strongest bonds," he agreed, his gaze turning towards me with a gentle expression that spoke of fondness and gratitude.

"Right," I whispered softly, a new sensation blooming in my heart. It was a feeling I hadn't known before—a warmth that felt both comforting and exhilarating.

"I often wonder," he whispered tenderly, our fingers intertwining as he drew closer, "What if we had met during our high school years? Two broken souls, each running from their own pain, yet striving for a brighter future."

"It's possible," I replied softly, feeling a gravitational pull towards him. "We could have been each other's healing, soothing the burns of our pasts."

Moments later, we found ourselves wrapped in an embrace, his head resting against my neck as we breathed in sync.

"I'm grateful to have you," he murmured. "Now, I believe in fate, because it brought me to you."

"Hmm?" I murmured, my attention no longer on his words. With closed eyes, I felt our hearts beating in perfect harmony, creating a symphony of something tender and profound. It was as if our souls were dancing to a melody of understanding and comfort.

In that moment, I realized that this connection was what I had craved all day—a sanctuary where I could share my thoughts and emotions, knowing they would be met with patience and empathy. But as I pondered this feeling, I couldn't help but wonder: what was it exactly? What name could capture the depth of what I was experiencing?

Was this the elusive emotion called love?