Chapter 10: The Next Champion

This month, I often stayed late to train with the starters.

The club was quiet at night, the hum of PCs blending with the distant sounds of traffic and street vendors packing up. Sometimes, I’d sneak in a cup of chai from the canteen auntie—she always saved the last batch for me.

Shikhar came to me privately, too. He stood at the office door, backlit, his deep-set eyes landing on me before quickly looking away.

He hesitated, shuffling his feet, hands stuffed into his pockets. He was still new to this world.

"Ritu, I’ll do my best."

His voice was sincere, earnest. It reminded me of myself at his age—determined, afraid, hopeful.

Shikhar was different from the other players—he always called me by my full name.

It was a sign of respect, the kind you find only in small-town kids who still touch their teachers’ feet.

I brushed my bangs aside and patted his shoulder.

He flinched slightly at the touch, unused to praise. I smiled, hoping to ease his nerves.

"No pressure. This is your first real match. Just enjoy the experience."

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. I knew he’d remember these words.

Shikhar nodded. As I was about to leave, his cool voice called out again.

He spoke hesitantly, as if afraid to ask for too much.

"And… thank you."

"Thank me for what?" I looked at him, curious.

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. Few people thanked me sincerely these days.

"I know if it weren’t for you, I’d still be stuck in the youth team. Anyway… thanks for believing in me."

His voice trembled a little, but there was pride there too. I saw my own journey reflected in his words.

I didn’t answer. Just tightened the file folder in my arms, half serious, half joking.

The office light flickered above us, buzzing gently. For a second, everything felt possible again.

"Shikhar, do you think that golden rain looked good?"

He knew I meant the league championship.

He grinned. "It looked great."

I smiled:

"I’ll show you."

For the first time in weeks, hope fluttered in my chest. Whatever the world said, whatever the barrage screamed, this was my story now. And I would write the ending myself.