"Monsters..." Rohan wheezed furiously, glaring back through the glass at Vikram and Monu, who were high-fiving each other near the squat racks. "Psychopaths! I take it back! You aren’t my brothers! You’re demons!"
The "full support" they had promised meant three uninterrupted hours of the most grueling, soul-crushing plyometric and strength-conditioning circuit he had ever experienced in his entire fifteen years of life.
Rohan leaned heavily against the brick wall of the alleyway outside the gym, trying to get his heart rate under control. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and took a deep breath.
"System," Rohan muttered under his breath. "Show me the status panel."
He waited for the familiar transparent blue screen to materialize in his vision. But before the holographic interface could even render, a sharp, familiar voice called out from behind him.
"Rohan? What are you doing just standing around outside the gym?"
Rohan violently jumped, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat. He spun around, waving his hands frantically to swat away the invisible screen, even though his logical brain quickly reminded him: Relax, idiot. She can’t see the System.
Standing a few feet away, her school bag slung over one shoulder and her hazel eyes observing his panicked state, was Ananya.
"Ananya!" Rohan stammered, awkwardly leaning against the wall to look casual, despite his legs trembling from the squats. "Oh, I was just... you know... heading home! He he he."
Ananya didn’t laugh. She took a few steps closer, her expression shifting from her usual analytical coolness to something incredibly vulnerable and soft. She looked down at her shoes for a brief second before looking straight into his eyes.
"Rohan," she said quietly.
Instinctively, Rohan stood a little straighter. "Yes, Madam?"
"Yesterday... that kiss wasn’t a joke to me," Ananya said, her voice completely steady, though a faint blush crept up her neck. "I’m not doing this on a whim. I have loved you since we were kids, Rohan. Ever since that day in the factory."
The playful exhaustion completely drained from Rohan’s body. The noisy traffic on the main road seemed to fade away into the background. He looked at the girl standing in front of him—his tactician, his best friend, his anchor.
Rohan let out a soft sigh, a small, genuine smile breaking across his sweaty face. He stepped closer, gently taking her hand.
"To be honest, Ananya... I don’t even know exactly when I started falling in love with you," Rohan admitted, his voice rough but sincere. "It just happened. But I do know that I love you too. I want you to be with me, to stay by my side for the rest of my life as I chase my goal."
He paused, his expression turning a bit guilty. "But... if I am going to make it into the Under-19 squad and become a pro, the training is going to be brutal. I might not be able to give you a lot of time. I’m going to be obsessed."
Ananya didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
"I am waiting," Ananya whispered against his chest. "I am ready to wait every single time. I will wait as long as it takes for you to achieve your goal. I’m your tactician, remember? I know how to play the long game."
Rohan wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, feeling a massive weight lift off his chest. They stood there in the quiet alleyway, finding comfort in the silence.
After a minute, Ananya pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Rohan... I want one thing."
Rohan grinned, the familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Okay, tell me. What does my girlfriend want?"
Hearing him call her his ’girlfriend’ made her blush deepen, but she kept her composure. "I know that once you join the Under-19 state camp, you are going to be incredibly busy. So, before all that starts... I want to spend one full day completely alone with you. Just the two of us."
Rohan chuckled, softly tapping her nose. "Okay, Madam. I can definitely spend one day entirely with you."
I’m going to have to beg Monu Bhaiya for a day off, Rohan thought to himself with a mental grimace. He’s going to make me run ten extra laps for this.
"Come on," Rohan said, taking her hand. "Let’s go home."
Inside the Iron Core Gym
Just on the other side of the heavy glass doors, pressed flat against the wall and peeking through the frosted decals, were Monu Bhaiya and Vikram.
Monu turned his head away from the glass, an incredibly wide, teasing grin plastered across his face. He nudged Vikram with his elbow.
"Did you hear that, Vik? The kid’s finally got a—"
Monu stopped mid-sentence.
Vikram, the towering, terrifying mountain of muscle who regularly deadlifted two hundred kilos without breaking a sweat, was violently trembling. Thick, heavy tears were streaming down the giant man’s stoic face. He was aggressively wiping his eyes with a gym towel.
"Bro... what are you doing?" Monu asked, completely dumbfounded. "Why are you crying?"
Vikram sniffled loudly, his deep voice cracking with pure emotion. "Seeing them... looking at how pure they are... it just reminds me of my wife, man."
Monu stared at him for a second before letting out a helpless laugh, patting the giant man on his massive back. "Alright, alright, big guy. Pull it together."
Later That Evening - The Roy Residence
Rohan opened the front door to his apartment, his muscles aching with every step. As he took off his shoes, his father, Amit Roy, stepped out of the living room.
"Rohan. Come here for a second," Amit called out, his tone carrying a rare, quiet weight.
"Yes, Baba?" Rohan asked, walking into the living room.
Resting on the center table was a massive, sleek black duffel bag. The zippers gleamed under the ceiling light, and the unmistakable logo of a premium sports brand was etched onto the side.
"The Under-19 state selections are coming up in a few days," Amit said, gesturing to the bag. "You can’t go to a professional trial using taped-up tennis shoes and a torn kitbag. You need proper gear. Take it."
Rohan’s eyes widened. He slowly unzipped the bag.
Inside was a brand-new, top-tier professional cricket kit. There were custom-fitted fast-bowling spikes with metal studs, premium protective gear, and a meticulously crafted English willow bat. The scent of fresh leather and high-grade rubber wafted up to him.
"Baba..." Rohan gasped, stepping back. "This... this is top-tier equipment! It must have cost a fortune! That’s way too expensive. A cheaper, second-hand kit would have been fine for me."
Amit Roy crossed his arms, offering his son a gentle, knowing smile. "I knew you would say that. Don’t worry about the money, Rohan. We can do at least this much for you. You’ve earned it with your sweat. Now, take it to your room and get some rest."
Rohan carefully picked up the heavy bag by its straps, handling it as if it were made of solid gold. He walked into his small bedroom, gently placing the kit on his bed.
He stared at the pristine equipment. He thought about his father’s unwavering support, Ananya’s absolute faith, and the brutal training Monu and Vikram were putting him through.
Rohan clenched his fists, a fire igniting in his chest.
"Baba," Rohan whispered into the quiet room, making a silent vow to the man on the other side of the door. "I promise you. One day, I will become a famous cricketer. I won’t let any of this go to waste."
Remembering his promise to Ananya, Rohan pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Monu Bhaiya’s number. It rang for only a second before it was picked up.
"Hello, Monu Bhaiya?" Rohan asked cautiously. "Listen... can I take tomorrow off from training? I have something important to do."
On the other end of the line, Monu—who had literally watched the entire conversation outside the gym—chuckled knowingly.
"Yeah, yeah, lover boy," Monu replied with a grin in his voice. "Take the day off. Have fun. But be ready for hell the day after tomorrow."
"Thank you, Bhaiya!" Rohan beamed, hanging up the phone, completely unaware that his coaches already knew everything.
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