For More Future Chapters: -
My Patreon: -
https://www.patreon.com/c/Kynstra
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please Donate Power Stones and Join My Patreon.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRYING SOMETHING NEW IN THIS CHAPTER. DON'T KNOW HOW YOU GUYS WOULD FEEL.
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aarav was lying on the king-sized bed in his suite, staring at the ceiling. The adrenaline from the airport reception was slowly fading, replaced by a dull ache in his muscles. He needed sleep, but his mind was racing at 140 clicks.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Caller ID:Dr. S 🩺 (Shradha)
Aarav picked it up instantly. "Hey. Tell me you saw the airport video. It was madness."
"I saw it," Shradha's voice was warm, tinged with excitement. "But I think the view will be better in person."
Aarav paused. "What do you mean?"
"We are coming, Aarav," she laughed. "Dad got the official invitation from the BCCI. 'Guest of Honour' or something. Mom, Dad, Sara di, and me. We are boarding the flight now."
Aarav sat up straight. "You're coming to Ahmedabad? Now?"
"Yes! And guess where we are staying?"
Aarav looked around his room. "Don't tell me..."
"ITC Narmada," she confirmed. "Dad wanted the same security. We'll be there in three hours. Get some rest, Captain. You'll need energy to deal with me."
Aarav grinned, flopping back onto the pillows. "Best news I've heard all day. I'll be waiting."
Four hours later. Aarav had managed a brief power nap. He was just splashing cold water on his face when his phone pinged with a text message.
From Shradha:514 💗
Short. Cryptic. Clear. Room 514. Fifth Floor. The Presidential Suite level.
Aarav quickly changed into a fresh black polo and jeans. He checked his hair in the mirror—not too messy, not too styled. Just right. He grabbed his room key card and headed out.
As he walked down the corridor towards the elevator, the lift doors pinged open. Shubman Gill stepped out, looking equally fresh in a beige linen shirt. He was holding his phone, looking at a message.
They bumped into each other.
"Going down for dinner?" Aarav asked, playing it cool.
Shubman smirked, turning his phone screen towards Aarav. From Sara:514 ✨
"Same destination, Captain?" Gill raised an eyebrow.
Aarav laughed, punching Gill's arm. "Let's go. The in-laws are here."
They took the elevator to the 5th floor. The security detail outside the Presidential Suite recognized them instantly and stepped aside with respectful nods.
Aarav took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy mahogany door.
A moment later, the door clicked open. Anjali Tendulkar stood there, radiating elegance in a simple silk suit. Her face lit up instantly.
"Mom!" Aarav and Shubman said in unison.
Without hesitation, the two star cricketers of the Gujarat Titans bent down to touch her feet. It wasn't for the cameras; it was pure respect. She was the mother figure they adored.
"Oh, stop it, you two," Anjali laughed, pulling them up and hugging them tightly, one by one. "You make me feel old. Come inside! Aarav, you look tired. Are you eating properly?"
"Yes, Mom," Aarav smiled, walking in. "Just match fatigue."
Inside the sprawling living area of the suite, the God of Cricket was standing near the balcony, admiring the view of the Ahmedabad skyline. Sachin Tendulkar turned around.
"Sir... Dad," Aarav corrected himself, walking over. He and Shubman touched Sachin's feet.
Sachin pulled them into a warm embrace. "Welcome to the finals, boys. Aarav, that scoop shot... we need to talk about the physics of that later."
Aarav grinned. "Trade secret, Dad."
Then, from the adjoining room, the girls appeared. Sara Tendulkar, looking chic in a white dress, and Shradha Tendulkar, wearing comfortable travel clothes but looking radiant.
Shubman walked straight to Sara. The hug was tight, a silent exchange of relief and pride. "You made it," he whispered. "Wouldn't miss it," she smiled.
Aarav locked eyes with Shradha. She stood there, biting her lip, a shy smile playing on her face. He closed the distance in two strides. He didn't care that her parents were in the room. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground.
"You're here," he murmured into her hair. "I'm here," she whispered back, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I brought the medical books, so don't think you can distract me too much."
"I'll try my best," Aarav chuckled, setting her down but keeping an arm around her waist.
For the next two hours, the Presidential Suite wasn't a room for VVIPs; it was just a family living room. They ordered room service—plenty of Gujarati snacks (Dhokla, Khandvi) and chai. Arjun Tendulkar was grilling Aarav about the 'Death Stare' at Rinku. Sachin and Shubman were discussing the black soil pitch dynamics. Anjali, Sara, and Shradha were laughing at the memes about the 'Parking Lot Six'.
It was a bubble of warmth and normalcy before the storm. No cameras. No fans. No pressure. Just family.
As Aarav sat on the couch, sipping tea with Shradha leaning against him and Sachin recounting stories of the 2011 World Cup final pressure, he felt a sense of calm settle over him.
He had the team. He had the fans. And now, he had his family. The Finals could bring anyone—Rajasthan, Bangalore, Lucknow—it didn't matter. Aarav Pathak was ready.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The clock on the bedside table read 1:45 AM. The hotel was silent, wrapped in the stillness of the Ahmedabad night. Aarav lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound in his suite. Despite the exhaustion of the flight and the emotional high of the family reunion, sleep was elusive. His mind was a carousel of field placements, pitch reports, and the weight of the upcoming final.
Tap. Tap.
It was barely audible. A soft, hesitant scratching against his door.
Aarav frowned. Room service wouldn't knock this late. Security would have called first. He threw off the duvet, grabbed a t-shirt, and walked to the door. He checked the peephole.
He froze. Then, quickly, he unlocked the door and pulled it open just wide enough.
Shradha stood there, barefoot, clutching her phone, wearing oversized pajamas that looked suspiciously like one of his old hoodies she had stolen months ago.
"Shradha?" Aarav whispered, his eyes darting to the empty hallway. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door and locking it swiftly.
He turned to her, running a hand through his messy hair. "Are you insane? It's 2 AM! What if someone saw you? What if the security guard on the floor told your dad? Or worse, what if a paparazzi somehow got a shot of you entering my room?"
Shradha didn't look scared. She leaned back against the closed door, looking up at him with soft, tired eyes.
"Aarav, breathe," she whispered.
"I can't breathe!" Aarav paced the small entryway. "Your dad is Sachin Tendulkar. He is sleeping three floors up. If he finds out I'm compromising his daughter's reputation in a team hotel..."
"He won't finding out," she interrupted gently, stepping forward. She reached out and took his hand, stopping his pacing. "The corridor was empty. The guard knows me. And even if he saw... I don't care."
Aarav looked at her, the worry etched on his face softening into disbelief. "You don't care?"
"No," she shook her head. "I missed you. We sat there for three hours with everyone else, talking about cricket, talking about the pitch. I didn't get to ask you how you are. I didn't get to hold you properly."
Aarav sighed, the tension leaving his body like a deflating balloon. He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her neck. She smelled of vanilla and comfort.
"You're trouble, Dr. Tendulkar," he mumbled against her skin. "Big trouble."
"And you're stressed, Captain Pathak," she countered, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Come here."
She led him towards the balcony. The night air was warm, but the view of the city lights was calming. They sat on the outdoor sofa, the glass railing separating them from the world below.
"I couldn't sleep," Aarav admitted, resting his head on her shoulder, his legs tangled with hers. "My brain won't shut off. I keep playing the final in my head. Over and over."
Shradha ran her fingers through his hair, a soothing, rhythmic motion. "That's why I came. You carry the weight of the whole state on your shoulders, Aarav. For just a few hours... put it down. You don't have to be the Captain right now. Just be Aarav."
He looked up at her, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. "It's hard. Everyone expects the trophy. If I fail..."
"Shh," she placed a finger on his lips. "You won't fail. But even if you do... you still have this. You still have me. You still have the 45% win probability guy who drives across Mumbai for chocolate shakes."
Aarav chuckled, a genuine, light sound. He kissed her palm. "You really are my anchor, aren't you?"
"I try," she smiled. "Now, stop talking about cricket. Tell me something else. Tell me what we're going to do after the IPL."
"Sleep," Aarav said instantly. "For a week."
"Boring," she teased. "Take me somewhere. Somewhere where no one knows us."
"Maldives?"
"Too cliché."
"Iceland?"
"Too cold."
"Fine," Aarav smirked, pulling her closer. "Pathak Villa. My room. Door locked. 24 hours."
Shradha laughed, hitting his chest lightly. "That sounds perfect."
They sat there for a long time, just talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing—about her medical exams, about Arjun's annoying habits, about the weird food Abhishek ate. The anxiety that had been knotting Aarav's stomach slowly unraveled.
Eventually, Shradha yawned, shivering slightly in the night breeze.
"Come on," Aarav whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. "Inside."
They moved to the king-sized bed. Aarav lay down, and Shradha curled up beside him, fitting perfectly into the curve of his body. He pulled the duvet over them, creating a warm, safe cocoon.
There was no need for words anymore. Aarav wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest. It was better than any physiotherapy session, better than any recovery ice bath. The presence of the person he loved was a balm to his exhausted soul.
"Don't worry about the alarm," Shradha mumbled sleepily, her eyes already closing. "I set mine for 6 AM. I'll sneak back out before Dad wakes up for his morning tea."
"You're a professional criminal," Aarav whispered, kissing her forehead.
"Only for you," she sighed.
Within minutes, Shradha was asleep. Aarav lay there for a moment longer, watching her peaceful face in the dim light. The noise of the stadium, the pressure of the fans, the expectations of the media—it all faded away.
For the first time in weeks, his mind went quiet. The fatigue that had settled deep in his bones seemed to evaporate, replaced by a profound sense of peace.
He closed his eyes, his arm tightening slightly around her. The final was days away, but tonight, Aarav Pathak had already won.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I DON'T KNOW WHY DID I ADD THIS, BUT I HAD THIS IDEA IN MIND SO I ADDED😅
HOW'S IT? SHOULD I TRY IT IN FUTURE?
9:05 AM.
Aarav shot up in bed as if he had been electrocuted. He looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. 09:05. He looked to his left. Shradha was sleeping peacefully, drooling slightly on his pillow, her arm thrown over his chest.
"Shradha!" Aarav whispered, shaking her. "Shradha! Uth! (Wake up!)"
Shradha groaned, swatting his hand away. "Five more minutes, Mom..."
"I am not Mom! I am Aarav! And your Dad is probably doing roll call upstairs!"
Shradha's eyes snapped open. She looked at the clock. "Oh my God! 9 AM? My alarm was silent!"
"Because we were sleeping on the phone!" Aarav scrambled out of bed, tripping over the duvet. "Get up! You have to go back! If Sachin Sir sees you missing at breakfast, he will check the CCTV!"
"No CCTV on this floor," Shradha reminded him, panic rising in her voice as she fixed her messy hair. "But the hallway! It's 9 AM. The housekeeping... the players... everyone will be awake!"
Aarav crept to the door like a cat burglar. He opened it a crack and peeked out.
The corridor was a battlefield. To the left, Abhishek Sharma was arguing with a waiter about his green tea being too hot. To the right, a housekeeping trolley was parked, unattended. And walking straight down the middle of the hallway, vlogging on his phone, was Arjun Tendulkar.
Aarav slammed the door shut. "Code Red," Aarav hissed, leaning against the door, breathing hard. "Arjun is out there. He's vlogging. If he catches you coming out of my room in those pajamas, it's going on Instagram Live."
Shradha buried her face in her hands. "I'm dead. Dad will kill me. Sara di will kill me. Then Dad will kill me again."
Aarav looked around the room frantically. His eyes landed on the laundry bag. Then he remembered the housekeeping trolley outside. A lightbulb went off. A stupid, dangerous, Bollywood-comedy style lightbulb.
"I have a plan," Aarav said, grabbing a pair of his sunglasses and a cap.
"What plan?"
"The Laundry Cart Protocol."
Five minutes later. Aarav stepped out of his room, wearing sunglasses (indoors) and looking suspiciously casual. He whistled a tune, walked up to the unattended housekeeping trolley, and dumped a pile of towels into the bottom shelf.
He signaled to the door. Shradha, also wearing sunglasses and one of Aarav's oversized caps pulled low, sprinted out and dove into the bottom shelf of the trolley. Aarav immediately threw three fluffy white bathrobes over her.
"I can't breathe!" a muffled voice came from the towels. "Breathing is optional. Survival is mandatory," Aarav whispered. "Stay still."
He grabbed the handle of the trolley just as the housekeeper turned the corner. "Sir?" the housekeeper asked, confused. "That is my trolley."
Aarav froze. He channeled his inner actor. "Ah, yes! Bhai! I was just... checking the wheel alignment. Very poor alignment. I will take this to the maintenance room for you. Captain's duty."
Before the confused staff could reply, Aarav pushed the heavy trolley down the hall, accelerating.
He turned the corner and nearly crashed into Arjun, who was holding his phone up. "Hey guys, welcome back to the vlog, today we are—" Crash.
Arjun jumped back. "Aarav bhai? What are you doing with the laundry?"
Aarav stopped, striking a pose with the trolley. Sweat was trickling down his neck. "Conditioning, Arjun. Resistance training. Pushing heavy weights to build the glutes. Nehra sir's orders."
Arjun looked at the towels. "It's just towels, bhai. How is that heavy?"
From inside the towels, Shradha shifted. The pile moved. Arjun's eyes widened. "Bhai... the towels are moving."
Aarav laughed nervously, loud and fake. "Ha! Yes! It's the... static electricity! Very high static in Ahmedabad. Physics, Arjun! Didn't you study physics?"
Arjun looked suspicious. "Can I try pushing it?"
"NO!" Aarav shouted, body-blocking the trolley. "It is calibrated for my height! Go! Go record Abhishek! He is fighting with a tea bag!"
Arjun shrugged, turning his camera away. "Weirdos," he muttered, walking off.
Aarav exhaled, wiping his forehead. He sprinted with the trolley towards Suite 514. He reached the door and knocked in a rhythmic code. Tap-tap-tap.
The door flew open. Sara Tendulkar stood there, looking frantic. She saw Aarav. She saw the trolley. "Where is she?" Sara whispered.
Aarav pointed to the towels. "Delivery for Room 514."
Shradha popped her head out, gasping for air, her hair looking like a bird's nest. "I hate you both."
"Get in! Dad is in the shower!" Sara hissed, grabbing Shradha's arm and hauling her out of the cart.
Just as Shradha tumbled into the room and landed on the carpet, the bathroom door clicked open. "Sara? Is room service here?" Sachin Tendulkar's voice boomed.
Aarav froze in the hallway. Sara kicked Shradha behind the sofa. "Yes, Papa!" Sara yelled, her voice cracking. "Just... laundry! Aarav brought... extra towels!"
Sachin walked into the living room, wearing a bathrobe, drying his hair. He saw Aarav standing at the door with a trolley. He blinked. "Aarav?" Sachin asked, confused. "Why are you delivering towels?"
Aarav stood straight, saluting. "Morning, Sir! Just... checking the service quality! Excellent towels! 400 thread count! Anyway, got to go, practice!"
He spun the trolley around and ran down the hallway before the God of Cricket could ask any more questions.
Inside the room, Shradha crawled from behind the sofa to her bedroom. Sara closed the door, leaning against it, sliding down to the floor. "We are never doing this again," Sara whispered.
From the hallway, they heard a loud crash. Aarav had driven the trolley into a wall.
"Sorry!" Aarav's voice echoed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ITC Narmada was technically a luxury hotel, a sanctuary of peace for the elite. But right now, it was housing three of the most aggressive cricket teams on the planet.
Gujarat Titans were relaxing, having booked their final spot. Rajasthan Royals were anxious but ready for Qualifier 2. Royal Challengers Bangalore had just arrived from Kolkata, fresh off their Eliminator victory against Lucknow Super Giants.
Around 8:00 PM, the boredom set in. The team rooms were stifling. The pool was closed for maintenance. The FIFA console in the game room was occupied by the support staff.
It started with a tennis ball. Arjun Tendulkar was tossing a yellow smiley-face sponge ball against the wall in the wide corridor of the 5th floor. Shubman Gill walked out, holding a plastic bat he had.
"One over," Gill challenged. "You're on," Arjun grinned.
Within ten minutes, the corridor was full. Abhishek Sharma came out with a chair for wickets. Yashasvi Jaiswal (RR) wandered in from the floor above, looking for snacks, and stayed for the cricket. Mohammed Siraj and Glenn Maxwell (RCB) appeared, drawn by the sound of the ball hitting the bat. Virat Kohli walked out of his suite, saw the gathering, and immediately took charge. "Oye, who is batting? Give me the bat."
And finally, Aarav Pathak emerged from his suite, wearing a black silk pathani suit, looking every bit the wealthy heir.
"What is happening?" Aarav asked, looking at the makeshift pitch setup between the elevator bank and the fire exit.
"Lobby Premier League, Captain," Abhishek grinned. "India vs Rest of World... vs Aarav."
"Why am I separate?"
"Because you are too rich to understand these rules," Gill laughed.
"Wait," Aarav said, pulling out his phone. "If we are doing this, the world needs to see it."
He opened YouTube on his phone. 'Aarav Pathak Official'. Title: LPL: Lobby Premier League (GT vs RCB vs RR)Go Live.
Within seconds, the viewer count skyrocketed. 10k... 50k... 100k. The chat went berserk. "OMG IS THAT KOHLI?""AARAV BHAI LIVE!""WHY ARE THEY PLAYING IN THE HALLWAY?"
Arjun Tendulkar was designated as the cameraman and commentator.
Arjun (Whispering into the phone): "Welcome guys to the biggest match of the year. Forget the IPL Final. This is the LPL. We have King Kohli, Prince Aarav, Gill, Jaiswal, Siraj, and... Maxwell who is looking for a bottle opener."
The group gathered in a circle. The carpeted floor was the pitch. A plastic chair was the stumps at the bowler's end. A room service trolley was the stumps at the batter's end.
Virat Kohli: "Okay, listen up. Rules clear kar lete hai (Let's clear the rules)."
Aarav stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. "Standard T20 rules? Powerplay for 2 overs?"
The entire group burst out laughing. Even Jaiswal was giggling.
Shubman Gill: "Bhai, this is not Wankhede. This is Gully Cricket. Standard rules don't apply here."
Aarav (Confused): "What do you mean?"
Virat Kohli (Putting an arm around Aarav): "Listen, Prince. You grew up with bowling machines and turf wickets. Today, you learn the streets. Rule Number 1: One Tip, One Hand."
Aarav: "One what?"
Abhishek Sharma: "If the ball bounces once, and the fielder catches it with one hand, you are out. If he uses two hands, you are safe. Understand?"
Aarav frowned. "That defies physics. Why one hand?"
"Style points," Maxwell chipped in, holding a beer (non-alcoholic, surely). "It's the law of the jungle, mate."
Virat: "Rule Number 2: Direct Hit to Lights is OUT." He pointed to the expensive chandeliers on the ceiling. "If you break it, you pay for it, and you go to the pavilion."
Aarav: "Okay, fair."
Gill: "Rule Number 3: Wall Touch is 2 Runs. If you hit the wall directly, it's 4 runs. If it hits the ceiling, it's a dead ball. If it goes into the elevator... it's a Six, but you have to go fetch the ball."
Siraj: "And Rule Number 4: Baby Over allowed for bowlers who get hit for 2 boundaries in a row."
Aarav: "What is a Baby Over?"
Arjun (To camera): "Guys, the GT Captain doesn't know what a Baby Over is. This is going to be a disaster."
Batsman: Aarav Pathak Bowler: Mohammed Siraj (Bowling spin because fast bowling is banned in the hallway) Fielders: The rest.
Aarav took his stance, holding the flimsy plastic bat with a professional grip. He tapped the carpet.
Ball 1: Siraj tossed up a slow off-spinner. Aarav leaned forward, eyes on the ball. He played a text-book, high-elbow cover drive. The ball raced along the carpet, hitting the wall with a satisfying thud.
Aarav: "Four!"
Virat: "NO! Two runs! It touched the carpet first!"
Aarav: "It hit the wall! That's a boundary!"
Jaiswal: "Bhai yaar, rule is 'Direct Wall' is 4. 'Rolling Wall' is 2."
Aarav: "That is the stupidest rule I have ever heard. In what world is a cover drive 2 runs?"
Abhishek: "In the ITC Narmada world. Take your 2 runs and shut up."
Ball 2: Siraj bowled a flighted delivery. Aarav stepped out. He wanted to clear the "infield" (Kohli and Gill standing two feet away). He lofted it straight. The ball bounced once near Kohli's feet. Kohli dived to his left and plucked it out of the air with his left hand.
Kohli: "OUT! OUT HAI! CHAL NIKAL! (GET OUT!)"
Aarav stood there. "It bounced! How is that out?"
Chorus: "ONE TIP ONE HAND!"
Aarav looked at the camera, visibly frustrated. "This is cheating. This is absolute cheating. I hit a lofted shot, it bounced, and I'm out?"
Arjun (Laughing): "The Prince has fallen. Welcome to the streets, Aarav."
Batsman: Virat Kohli Bowler: Aarav Pathak
Aarav took the ball. He was determined to use these stupid rules against them. He decided to bowl his "150kph" action but release it slow.
Ball 1: Aarav ran in (took two steps). He bowled a cutter. Virat didn't play a drive. He played a cross-batted swat towards the elevator. The ball hit the elevator doors directly with a loud CLANG.
Virat: "FOUR! DIRECT HIT!"
Aarav: "Wait, the elevator is the boundary? I thought it was six?"
Gill: "Inside is six. Door is four."
Aarav: "This is arbitrary! You guys are making this up as you go!"
Ball 2: Aarav tried a yorker. Virat flicked it. The ball went up... it hit the ceiling... and dropped straight into Jaiswal's hands.
Aarav: "Out! Caught!"
Virat: "Dead ball! Ceiling touch!"
Aarav: "WHAT?! You just said ceiling touch is dead ball? But Jaiswal caught it!"
Virat: "Doesn't matter. Once it touches the ceiling, the ball is dead. No run, no wicket. Rules are rules, Cheeku (Aarav)."
Aarav threw his hands up. "I hate this game. I really hate this game."
Batsman: Glenn Maxwell Bowler: Arshdeep Singh
Maxwell, being Australian, was treating this like backyard cricket. He was trying to reverse sweep everything.
Ball 1: Arshdeep bowled a slow bouncer. Maxwell switched his grip. He tried to reverse-scoop it over the "Keeper" (Miller). He missed the ball. The bat swung wildly and hit a flower vase on the side table. CRASH.
Silence. Everyone froze. The vase lay in pieces on the carpet.
Arjun (Whispering): "Oh god. Maxi broke the hotel property. Run?"
Virat: "Abey saale! (You idiot!) That looked expensive!"
Maxwell: "It was an ugly vase anyway. I did them a favor."
Aarav: "Put it on my bill. Just play. I want to get Virat Bhaiya out."
Batsman: Shubman Gill Bowler: Abhishek Sharma
Abhishek was bowling to his friend. The rivalry was intense.
Ball 1: Abhishek bowled a wide. Gill left it.
Gill: "Wide! One run!"
Abhishek: "No wide in gully cricket unless it's out of reach! You could have hit that!"
Gill: "It was outside the second strip of the carpet! That's the wide line!"
Abhishek: "Who decided the carpet strip is the wide line?"
Gill: "The International Council of Hotel Lobby Cricket. Me."
Abhishek: "Fine. Try Ball. That was a Try Ball."
Aarav: "What is a Try Ball?!"
Kohli: "First ball is always a warm-up. Doesn't count. Everyone knows that."
Aarav: "But he bowled a wide! How can a wide be a try ball?"
Siraj: "Bhai, you ask too many questions. Just field at long-on (near the fire extinguisher)."
Scenario: Team Kohli needs 10 runs to win. Team Aarav needs 1 wicket. Batsman: Yashasvi Jaiswal. Bowler: Aarav Pathak.
Aarav held the sponge ball. He was sweating more than he did in the Qualifier. This mattered. Beating Kohli at his own game mattered.
Ball 1: Aarav bowled a leg-break. Jaiswal stepped out and smashed it. It hit the wall directly. 4 Runs. (6 needed off 5).
Aarav: "Arshdeep! Move the trolley closer to the leg side! He's hitting cross-batted!"
Ball 2: Aarav bowled a googly. Jaiswal missed. Dot.
Ball 3: Jaiswal pushed it into the gap between the elevator and the wall. They ran. One... Two... Three... They were running like maniacs in the 10-meter pitch. 3 Runs. (3 needed off 3).
Ball 4: Virat Kohli on strike. The tension was palpable. Arjun zoomed in on Kohli's intense face. "This is it," Arjun whispered. "King vs Prince. Hotel Corridor Final."
Aarav walked back to his mark (the plant pot). He decided to use the one weapon that worked everywhere. Pace. He didn't care about the 'No Fast Bowling' rule. He needed this wicket.
He ran in. He released it fast. The sponge ball zipped through the air. Virat saw the pace. He didn't back down. He played the Helicopter Shot. In a hotel hallway.
WHACK.
The ball flew high. It missed the ceiling. It missed the walls. It sailed straight down the corridor, over the head of Long-Off (Siraj), and landed inside the open elevator that had just arrived.
Ding. The elevator doors started to close. Inside the elevator, an elderly couple looked terrified as a yellow sponge ball landed at their feet.
Virat: "SIX! ELEVATOR SHOT! MATCH WON!"
Aarav: "Wait! The doors closed! We can't retrieve the ball! That's... that's 'Lost Ball' rule!"
Virat: "Lost Ball means 6 runs and out! But we won before the 'Out' part! RCB WINS THE LPL!"
The entire corridor erupted in cheers and laughter. Kohli was running around with his shirt pulled up over his head like he had won the World Cup. Maxwell was high-fiving the air. Aarav stood there, hands on his hips, shaking his head, a smile slowly breaking onto his face.
Suddenly, a door opened at the end of the hall. Sachin Tendulkar stepped out, looking sleepy.
"Kya macha rakha hai? (What is this noise?)" Sachin asked in his calm, bass voice.
The celebration froze. Kohli stopped running. Aarav straightened his posture. It was like the principal catching the students.
"Sachin sir," Virat grinned sheepishly. "Just... tactical practice."
Sachin looked at the plastic bat. He looked at the broken vase. He looked at the sponge ball in the elevator (which was gone).
"Go to sleep," Sachin said, a small smile playing on his lips. "You have a match tomorrow, Virat. And Aarav... you have a final. Save the energy."
"Yes, Sir," everyone chorused.
Sachini went back inside.
The group disbanded, still laughing.
Arjun (To camera): "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of the Lobby Premier League. RCB wins by... elevator logic. The broken vase count is 1. Aarav's confusion count is 100. See you in the real final."
Aarav ended the stream. Views: 2.5 million.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: - 4800+ Words
For More Future Chapters: -
My Patreon: -
https://www.patreon.com/c/Kynstra
Thank you very much for all the support and donate power stones!!
Do Comment, anything just comments and Donate Power stone!!
If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to leave a ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ rating! Your feedback means so much. And feel free to comment on where you think the story should go next—I'd love to hear your thoughts on the future direction!