Chapter 1
Raghav, a 21-year-old boy from Indore, had recently shifted to Mumbai for his studies. He was in his second year and had secured admission through the sports quota in one of the finest colleges in India — Ambedkar Institute of Excellence — a place where many students dreamed of studying, but only a few could make it possible.
It was his first day of college, and he was late. At the entry gate, he wasn't permitted to enter. Disappointed, he went back to his hotel. He thought, "I should search for a PG, and today I have the time." He began searching for a PG near his college but couldn't find one in his budget. Later, he found one that was affordable but far from college. He talked to the landlord and finally decided to stay there.
After shifting, he went to the market to buy some groceries. While he was shopping, his heartbeat suddenly became fast — he saw his school crush and friend Ruhani, whom he hadn’t met in years, right in front of his eyes. He thought he should talk to her, but she vanished into the crowd. He searched for her, but maybe she was gone.
The next day, he went to his college and got scolded by his professor, Mr. Das, for missing his first day. He apologized and promised not to repeat his mistake again.
Later that day, in his classroom, he saw Ruhani coming toward him. His heartbeat quickened again. Ruhani smiled and said, "Hey Raghav! What a surprise!". Raghav was stunned as if he was dreaming, Ruhani called him again "Raghav". Raghav said nervously, “Hey Ruhani… Wow, this is unexpected. You’re... here?”
Ruhani raised an eyebrow, “That’s my line. What are you doing here?”
They both chuckle, breaking the tension. The professor walks in and they rush to their seats — but Raghav can’t stop glancing at her.
As the lecture ended, Raghav quickly gathered his notebook and turned toward Ruhani. But her seat was empty.
He looked around the classroom — she was gone.
He hurried out into the corridor, eyes scanning the crowd of students pouring out of classrooms. He even peeked into the stairwell, hoping to catch a glimpse of her ponytail, her bag, her smile — anything.
But she had vanished again.
His shoulders dropped. He leaned against the railing, eyes blank, lips pressed in disappointment.
Just as Raghav stood by the railing, his shoulders heavy with disappointment, a loud voice called out from behind.
“Oye Vice-Captain! Daydreaming on day two?”
Raghav turned to see Manan, tall, confident, and grinning as usual, walking up with a towel slung around his neck and a protein shake in hand.
“Coach wants full attendance by 5. Practice on the centre mat today. You in?”
Raghav nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Manan gave him a thumbs-up. “Good. Let’s show ‘em how Indore and Mumbai create magic together.”
By 5 PM, Raghav was suited up — maroon jersey, college logo on his chest, and that faint pressure of living up to the vice-captain tag.
Practice was intense. Tackles, formations, raiding drills — Raghav gave it his all.
But his mind? It kept circling back.
That smile. That voice. That look.
Ruhani.
During a short water break, Manan plopped down beside him on the bench.
“You were on fire today,” he said. “Coach was impressed. You’re adjusting fast.”
Raghav smiled faintly, wiping his face with a towel.
“Trying to keep up.”
Manan looked at him, then said casually, “By the way… I saw you in the corridor earlier. Looked like you were looking for someone.”
Raghav hesitated.
“Yeah… just saw an old friend. From school. Ruhani.”
The name left his lips a little too gently.
Manan smirked.
“Ah, Ruhani.”
He stretched his legs and leaned back.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
Raghav blinked.
“You know her?”
Manan nodded.
“Know her? I’ve been dating her since last year. She’s in LitSoc (Literature Society — the group that hosts writing, poetry, and literary events on campus). We met during an inter-department event.”
He grinned. “It just clicked, you know
?” Raghav left with a goodbye. Manan was confused with his behaviour.
Two days later, the college noticeboard was buzzing with excitement — a major inter-college kabaddi tournament had just been announced. Top teams from across Mumbai would be participating, and Ambedkar Institute was expected to reach the finals.
Coach Verma gathered the team in the practice hall.
“This is our shot, boys. We train harder starting today. Raghav, you’re vice-captain — I want you leading defence drills.”
Raghav nodded, jaw tight. His heart wasn’t in it, but his commitment to the game wouldn’t let him falter.
Manan walked in, pumped and energetic.
“Let’s go, Lions! We’re winning this year — no excuses.”
Raghav forced a small smile, hiding the storm inside him. Every time Manan clapped him on the back or cheered beside him, he felt the sting of something personal — something he couldn’t show.
Later during practice…
Manan was explaining a new strategy.
“Raghav, switch to the left corner with Zaid. I’ll take the central cover.”
Raghav, distracted, nodded and moved. But during the raid, his timing was off — the raider escaped with two points.
The team groaned.
Coach blew the whistle.
“Raghav! Focus! That’s not like you.”
He looked down, muttered,
“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
Manan jogged over.
“You okay, bro? You’re usually sharper than this.”
Raghav nodded without meeting his eyes.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
Manan frowned but let it go.
“Alright. Let’s shake it off.”
But inside, Raghav felt like everything was unraveling — the game, the team, the one person he thought he could reconnect with… all slipping away.
That night in his room…
Raghav lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
“You okay? You left in a hurry th
e other day. – Ruhani”
He stared at the screen.
A part of him wanted to type:
“Yeah. Just busy with kabaddi.”
Another part wanted to ask:
“Why didn’t you tell me about Manan?”
But he typed neither.
He locked the screen and let the phone drop beside him on the bed.
He wasn’t ready.
Two Days Later – Match Day
The court was electric.
Drums beating, banners waving, and students packed into the stands. The inter-college kabaddi tournament had officially begun, and Ambedkar Institute was up against St. Xavier’s, one of the toughest rivals in Mumbai.
Coach Verma gathered the team in a huddle.
“Play smart, play together. Raghav, I want you leading the defence. Manan, control the pace. Let’s show them who owns this mat.”
Raghav didn’t say a word.
His jaw was clenched, eyes locked ahead, focused — or maybe furious.
Manan gave him a quick pat.
“We’ve got this, Vice.”
Raghav nodded without looking at him.
The whistle blew.
From the first raid, something was different.
Raghav wasn’t just good — he was ruthless.
He read every movement of the opposition’s raider like a book. Dived with precision. Tackled like his life depended on it.
He wasn’t just defending the mat. He was burning on it.
Point after point, he threw his body in. Manan watched from the back, half-impressed, half-confused.
Even the coach stood stunned.
“He’s not playing… he’s unleashing something,” a senior whispered.
Second Half – Time-Out
Ambedkar was up by 10 points. The team was buzzing. Everyone high-fived and cheered — except Raghav.
He stood apart, wiping sweat from his face.
Manan walked over, concerned.
“You okay? You’re killing it out there, but… you look like you’re fighting more than just them.”
Raghav looked him straight in the eye for the first time.
“Sometimes pain sharpens you.”
Manan blinked, caught off-guard.
Before he could respond, the referee whistled for the final half.
Raghav jogged back onto the mat, leaving his words — and his wounds — behind.
By the time the match ended, Ambedkar Institute had won by a huge margin.
Raghav was declared Player of the Match.
Crowd roared. Cameras flashed.
But behind the cheers… Raghav walked off quietly, eyes still searching the stands.
She hadn’t come.
Later That Night – In His PG Room
The noise of the crowd had faded. The mat was empty. The jersey was back on its hook. But Raghav… he sat in silence.
Sweat-drenched towel tossed on a chair, match medal lying untouched beside his bag.
He didn’t feel like a winner.
Not tonight.
His phone buzzed.
This time, he didn’t hesitate to check.
Ruhani: “Just heard what you did on the mat today. You were amazing. I’m proud of you, Raghav.”
He stared at the message.
Proud.
That word used to mean something else when it came from her. Back in school, it came with high-fives after matches, shy smiles during lunch breaks, and promises they were too young to keep.
Now, it just felt… distant.
He typed, paused, deleted.
Typed again.
Raghav: “Thanks. It was just a game.”
She replied almost instantly.
Ruhani: “It didn’t look like just a game. Not from the way you played. Everything okay?”
His fingers hovered.
How do you say, "No, I’m not okay. I saw you with him. I’m trying to forget you and fight for something else."
Instead, he replied:
Raghav: “Some fights are easier than others.”
There was a pause.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.
No reply came after that.
He turned the phone over, let out a deep breath, and lay back.
Tonight, he had won
on the mat.
But lost in every other place that mattered.
Next Morning – College Corridor
Raghav sipped from his steel flask, standing near the Kabaddi notice board. His eyes were tired, but his posture was relaxed — like someone who had finally stopped wrestling with questions that had no answers.
He had made a decision.
Let go.
Stop hoping.
And just be… normal.
College Garden – Quiet Corner, Late Afternoon
Raghav and Ruhani sit on the stone bench under the neem tree. Silence stretches between them like a string on the verge of breaking.
Raghav (softly, avoiding eye contact):
“I saw you with Manan yesterday… outside the cafe.”
Ruhani looks down. There's a pause. The breeze rustles the leaves, but neither moves.
Ruhani (quietly):
“I figured you would.”
She turns toward him.
Ruhani (looking into his eyes):
“I knew you loved me, Raghav. And I know it’s hurting you deep inside.”
His jaw clenches for a second. His voice comes out calm, but his eyes betray the storm.
Raghav:
“It did. But I’m not here to make it awkward. I’m not going to ruin what we have left.”
Ruhani:
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Raghav (smiling faintly, with restraint):
“I’m not pretending. I’ve just decided that I won’t let this feeling define me. I lost something, yes… but I didn’t lose myself.”
She exhales, visibly shaken by how composed he is.
Ruhani (softly):
“Raghav… you’re stronger than you think.”
Raghav (with a small laugh):
“Funny. I only became strong because I had no choice.”
She watches him, unsure of what to say.
Raghav:
“You and Manan look happy. I genuinely hope he treats you well.”
The words come out steady. He stands up.
Raghav (offering a smile):
“I’ll always be around… just not waiting anymore.”
And he walks off, hands in his pockets — leaving behind a girl who suddenly isn’t so sure anymore.
Next Day – Outside the Canteen
Raghav stood near the juice counter, wiping sweat off his forehead after practice. His kabaddi jersey stuck to his back, and his duffel bag rested near his foot. He spotted Ruhani walking toward the canteen with a few friends, laughing — or at least pretending to.
She saw him too.
Their eyes met briefly. She smiled, casual and light.
“Hey Raghav!” she waved, walking over. “Still sweating buckets after practice?”
He chuckled, grabbing his bottle. “Comes with the sport.”
She leaned against the railing beside him. “New jersey suits you. Vice captain, huh?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Big shoes to fill.”
There was a pause — brief, but loud.
Ruhani broke it. “By the way, sorry about yesterday. Didn’t mean to walk off like that. Manan was waiting.”
Raghav shrugged, trying not to sound bitter. “It’s fine. I understand.”
Ruhani smiled again — the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re a good friend, Raghav.”
He gave her a small nod. “And you seem… happy.”
She hesitated. Just for a second. But Raghav noticed.
Then, as if catching herself, she said, “Yeah, I am. Manan’s sweet. Always been.”
But her tone faltered. Raghav didn’t push.
Instead, he simply said, “Good. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that — genuinely.”
She looked at him. Silent.
The moment lingered.
Then her phone buzzed. Manan’s name flashed. She picked it up with a forced brightness in her voice.
“Hey babe! Yeah, I’m at the canteen… coming!”
She looked at Raghav apologetically. “See you later?”
He gave a small smile. “Sure. Take care.”
As she walked away, Raghav watched her from behind — still graceful, still magnetic, still… not truly happy.
And he told himself again: She’s just a friend now. That’s all.
But something in her eyes told a different story.
College Library — Evening
Ruhani sat near the window, books open but untouched. Her eyes kept drifting to her phone.
Manan’s messages were sweet, frequent, thoughtful. She should’ve smiled. But something felt off.
She hadn’t seen Raghav around much.
No more morning texts.
No more waiting near the lab door.
No more: “You look tired. Ate anything?”
It was strange — how silence could scream louder than words.
Just then, she heard a soft laugh. Her eyes instinctively searched the room.
There he was.
Raghav.
Two tables away.
Head bent, scribbling something in his notebook.
A kabaddi hoodie hanging loosely on his back.
He hadn’t seen her. Or maybe… he had, and just didn’t look.
Scene: Kabaddi Ground — Later That Night
Sweat dripped down Raghav’s jaw as he finished his sprint.
Coach clapped. Teammates cheered.
He had improved.
More focus.
Sharper reflexes.
But inside — a part of him felt numb. The kind of numb that comes after you stop hoping.
Ruhani was with Manan now. That much was clear.
And he? He had stopped checking her status.
Stopped waiting for a message that never came.
Stopped being her "almost"
PG Terrace (Ruhani's )— That Same Night
Ruhani leaned against the railing, staring at the dark sky. Her friend Shruti joined her.
“Tu theek hai?” Shruti asked gently.
“Hmm,” Ruhani murmured.
“You’ve been so… blank lately. Everything okay with Manan?”
Ruhani didn’t answer at first. Then softly said,
“He’s good to me. But I… I don’t feel like me when I’m with him.”
“And with Raghav?” Shruti asked.
Ruhani gave a small, sad smile.
“With him, I didn’t have to try. Things just… made sense.”
Shruti didn’t say anything. She just stayed beside her, watching the wind play with Ruhani’s hair.
Scene: College Corridor — The Next Day
Raghav walked past her in the corridor.
Eyes met. For a second, nothing else existed.
She smiled. A small one.
He returned it — polite, unreadable — and kept walking.
Something inside her twisted.
He was moving on.
And she… wasn’t ready to let go.
After days of growing emotional distance, Manan couldn’t ignore it anymore — Ruhani seemed… different. Distant. Her replies were shorter, her presence felt distracted. And worse, her smile had started to feel like it was meant for someone else.
That afternoon, he saw her laughing near the kabaddi court. Her laughter — warm and free — echoed across the ground as she chatted with Raghav. Manan didn’t get close enough to hear the conversation, but the way she smiled, the ease with which she leaned into that moment, unsettled him deeply.
He turned away before his gaze could linger longer.
Later that evening, as Ruhani met him near the food stalls, he wasn’t the same.
“You’re glowing lately,” Manan said, his voice laced with something between sarcasm and hurt.
Ruhani raised an eyebrow. “Glowing?”
“Yeah,” he looked away. “You just seem... happier.”
She gave a hesitant smile. “I’m trying to stay happy, that’s all.”
He nodded, but his silence felt louder than words. He didn’t ask where she had been, didn’t ask who she was with. But something in his eyes had changed — cold, unreadable.
“Is everything okay?” Ruhani asked.
Manan forced a smile. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
And just like that, he walked away — leaving behind an unspoken storm that Ruhani couldn’t quite understand.
The next day, the atmosphere on the kabaddi ground was heavier than usual. Practice had just begun, but Manan’s mood was already sour. His eyes scanned the team as they warmed up — Raghav was leading the drill with his usual energy and precision.
“Raghav,” Manan called out sharply. “Can we talk about the playing 7? I think we need to reshuffle.”
Raghav jogged over, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Yeah, what’s the issue?”
“I don’t think Arvind should be in the starting 7. He’s been off-form lately. Swap him with Yash.”
Raghav frowned. “Yash doesn’t have Arvind’s strength in corner defence. It’ll affect our backline. We can give Arvind one more match.”
Manan’s tone stiffened. “And risk another match on sympathy?”
Raghav stepped closer, now equally firm. “It’s not sympathy. It’s belief. We don’t drop players after one bad game. That’s not how team spirit works.”
The team watched from a distance as the voices rose.
Manan snapped, “Sometimes it feels like you’re more interested in playing hero than building a team.”
Raghav blinked, surprised. “Where did that come from?”
Manan held his glare. “Just do as I say. I’m still captain — unless someone’s planning otherwise.”
Raghav’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. He simply nodded and walked away, the hurt and confusion clearly visible on his face.
The rest of practice went on — drills continued, strategies were discussed — but the air stayed tense, every pass and raid laced with unspoken conflict.
And Ruhani? She noticed it all from the sidelines — the silence between the two, the aggression in Manan’s tone, and the confusion in Raghav’s eyes.
Something was falling apart — but no one
had the courage to name it.
Later that week, during an intense evening practice session, the team was going through full-contact drills. The mood was already tense after the recent dispute. Manan and Raghav hadn’t spoken a word beyond what was required for gameplay.
As part of a defensive raid drill, Manan charged forward with his usual aggression. Raghav, positioned at the back, moved in for the tackle. It was clean—technically perfect—but something went wrong.
Manan’s foot twisted awkwardly beneath him as he fell. A sharp crack, a cry of pain, and everything stopped.
The players rushed over. Manan clutched his ankle, wincing. Ruhani, who was watching from the stands, came running down. Raghav froze, guilt flooding his expression.
“Don’t touch me,” Manan muttered as Raghav reached out.
Coach came in, checked the injury, and immediately called for a medical break. The diagnosis was clear: Manan wouldn’t be able to play for at least two matches, possibly more.
In the silence that followed, Coach made the announcement:
“Till Manan recovers, Raghav will lead the team as stand-in captain.”
As soon as the coach’s words settled — "Raghav will lead the team as stand-in captain" — Manan’s simmering emotions exploded.
He stood up, limping but furious, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.
"This is what you wanted, right? A little tackle and suddenly you’re captain!"
Raghav stepped back, startled. “What are you saying, Manan?”
“Don’t play innocent! You’ve been eyeing that badge since the day you got here.”
The team watched, wide-eyed. Players froze mid-warmup. Even the assistant coach looked unsure.
Raghav’s voice hardened. “That’s enough. You got injured, it was an accident. Don’t question my intent.”
“Oh, I’m questioning everything now — your intent, your timing, your friendship,” Manan growled, stepping closer despite his injury.
Raghav didn’t back down.
The tension escalated — shoulders squared, voices raised, tempers ready to snap — until Ruhani ran onto the field.
“Enough! Both of you!” she shouted, standing between them.
Manan clenched his jaw, gave one last furious look to Raghav, and walked away, ignoring even Ruhani’s calls.
Later that evening, Ruhani sat alone in her room, replaying everything — Manan’s sudden coldness, his bursts of anger, and that one time he had mentioned a guy “who’s always around her.”
Her eyes widened.
“Wait… he meant Raghav?”
The realisation hit her like a slap. All this time, Manan thought something was going on between her and Raghav. But he never said it directly.
She stared at her phone, tempted to call, to clear it
all.
But would he even listen now?
Ruhani sat on the edge of her bed, her mind whirling with the realisation.
Manan thought she and Raghav were… involved?
He never said it, never asked — just pushed her away.
She reached for her phone to finally call him — to explain — when her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She answered, confused. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end was trembling. “Is this Ruhani?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“I’m Vedant. Manan’s friend. I—I thought you should know... Manan… he tried to hurt himself tonight.”
Her blood ran cold.
Vedant continued, panicked. “He was on the flyover... He called me just before. Said he felt alone… like no one cared. But… but someone stopped him. A stranger saw him and pulled him back. Then he just broke down. I’m with him now.”
Ruhani couldn’t breathe.
“Is he okay? Where is he? Tell me, Vedant!”
“He’s shaken up. He’s not talking much… We’re taking him to the hostel medical room for now.”
Ruhani’s heart pounded. The anger, the misunderstandings — everything now seemed so small.
All she wanted was to see him. To tell him she was there. That none of it mattered more than his life.
Ruhani didn’t waste a second.
Her hands trembled as she hung up and immediately dialed Raghav.
He picked up, surprised. “Ruhani? It’s late, what happened?”
Her voice cracked, barely holding it together. “Manan… he tried to… he almost…”
Raghav instantly turned serious. “What? Where is he?”
“His friend Vedant called. Said a stranger stopped him. He’s in his house. I’m going there right now.”
“I’m coming with you,” Raghav said, already grabbing his keys. “Stay calm. I’m on my way.”
Fifteen minutes later, they met outside Manan’s house. The road was eerily quiet, the weight of everything that had happened hanging heavily in the air.
Without saying much, they rushed to the room — hearts pounding, breaths shaky.
Ruhani clutched her dupatta tightly. “He misunderstood everything, Raghav. He thought… we had something going on.”
Raghav gave her a side glance, understanding dawning. “He thought I was the guy you were close to?”
She nodded slowly, eyes filled with regret. “He never said it… but everything makes sense now. The distance, the silence, the anger. And today — the injury, the shouting — he thought you wanted to take his place.”
They reached the gate just as Vedant opened the door from the other side.
“He’s inside,” Vedant said softly. “He’s not saying much.”
Ruhani stepped in, eyes misty. Raghav followed silently, the tension too heavy to break.
Manan lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, pale and silent. His eyes shifted only slightly when he saw Ruhani — and Raghav behind her.
His lips parted. “Why are you here?”
Tears welled in Ruhani’s eyes as she stepped forward.
“Because you matter, Manan,” she whispered.
Ruhani sat beside Manan, gently placing her hand on his.
“Listen to me,” she said softly but firmly. “There was never anything between me and Raghav. You misunderstood it all.”
Manan didn’t speak, but his eyes flickered, searching hers for truth.
She continued, “The boy I was talking about… the one I liked, the one I kept mentioning that day… was you, Manan.”
Manan’s lips trembled. “Then why… why were you always with Raghav? Why did it feel like I was being pushed out of everything — from the team, from you…”
Raghav stepped forward, his tone steady. “I never tried to take your place. You were the captain. You are our captain. That tackle in practice was never intentional. I didn’t even know you felt that way.”
There was a long pause. Manan’s breathing slowed as everything began to sink in. The weight of guilt started to replace the burden of anger.
“I messed up,” he whispered. “I was so blinded by insecurity… I pushed you away when all you tried to do was stay close.”
He looked at Ruhani, then at Raghav.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “To both of you.”
Ruhani’s eyes softened. “Just promise me you’ll never let things fester in silence again.”
Manan nodded, wiping the corner of his eye. “I promise.”
Raghav gave him a small nod. “We’ve got your back. Always.”
Later that night, at Ruhani's PG room…
She stared at the ceiling, her fingers nervously curling around her bedsheet.
"Did I say something wrong today?"
"Why couldn’t I look into his eyes?"
"Do I really love Manan... or am I just used to loving him?"
Her heart thudded as a new thought crept in.
"Or... am I falling for Raghav?"
She sat up suddenly, clutching her head.
“No. I do love Manan. Of course I do… right?” she whispered into the dark.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night.
Next morning — college campus
Ruhani walked through the corridor, lost in thought, the world around her a blur. The confusion hadn't faded — it had only grown louder in her mind.
Just then, Raghav walked up from the opposite direction and waved.
“Where are you lost?” he asked with a soft smile.
She looked up but said nothing.
A few seconds passed. The smile on his face faded, replaced by concern.
“Ruhani… everything’s okay?” he asked again, gently.
There was a long pause. And then—
“I love you,” she said.
