The ride back to the hotel was far quieter than the journey to the beach. The group had thoroughly exhausted themselves, their earlier energy dimmed by the wine, laughter, and dancing under the stars.

Most of the players were slouched in their seats, the occasional murmur of conversation barely audible over the hum of the van’s engine.

Tara sat beside Shubman, her body swaying slightly with the motion of the vehicle. She wasn’t as drunk as some of the others, but the combination of alcohol and the day’s excitement had left her pleasantly drowsy.

“Enjoy your big day?” Shubman asked softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence between them.

She smiled, her eyelids drooping as she turned her head toward him. “Best birthday in a long time,” she mumbled, her words slurring slightly.

Shubman chuckled under his breath, his voice low and warm. “Glad to hear it.”

As the van rounded a bend, Tara’s head lulled to the side and came to rest against Shubman’s shoulder. He froze for a moment, his posture stiffening at the unexpected weight.

Her hair smelled faintly of vanilla and the ocean breeze, a soft and calming blend that sent an unbidden wave of comfort through him. The warmth of her presence against his side was strangely grounding, a reminder of how close they had grown in such a short span of time.

“She’s out,” Ishan said from across the van, grinning at Shubman in the dim light. The mischievous tone in his voice suggested he wouldn’t let this slide later.

Shubman rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on Tara. Her breathing had evened out, soft and rhythmic, her body fully relaxed as though she trusted the world—or at least him—not to disturb her peace.

He adjusted slightly, careful not to wake her, and let out a quiet sigh. His arm rested awkwardly against the seat, but he didn’t dare move, not wanting to break the serene moment.

The streetlights cast fleeting shadows over her features as the van continued its journey. Shubman allowed himself a brief glance, taking in how unguarded she looked.

The tension she usually carried seemed to have melted away, replaced by an expression of vulnerability that tugged at something deep within him.

“Tough job, being her pillow?” Ishan teased again, his smirk audible even in the dark.

“Shut up, Ishan,” Shubman muttered under his breath, though his tone lacked any real bite. He glanced back at Tara, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as she shifted slightly, her head nestling more firmly against him.

In that moment, Shubman couldn’t help but wonder—what was it about her that made him feel this way? Calm yet restless, drawn to her in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend.

Pushing the thought aside, he closed his eyes, resolving to savor the fleeting tranquility of her presence.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

By the time they reached the hotel, most of the group was either dozing or staggering out of the van, the night’s festivities catching up with them.

Shubman stayed put for a moment, glancing down at Tara, who remained asleep, her head still resting against his shoulder. Her face was peaceful, devoid of the guarded expression she often wore during the day.

“Tara,” he said softly, nudging her shoulder in an attempt to wake her.

She stirred slightly, letting out a faint, almost childlike groan, but her eyes remained firmly shut. A lazy pout crossed her lips as she shifted closer to him, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

Shubman sighed, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. You’re not making this easy, are you?”

Sliding an arm under her legs and another around her back, he lifted her with ease. Tara’s head lolled against his chest, her arms instinctively curling around his neck as though seeking more warmth.

The closeness made his heartbeat quicken, though he did his best to ignore the sudden awareness of her soft breath against his collarbone.

“Carrying your princess, Gill?” Hardik teased, his voice slurred from too many drinks as he leaned heavily against the van. “You’ve got competition for the most romantic guy on the team now.”

“Someone has to keep the bar high,” Shubman shot back lightly, though his focus never wavered from the woman in his arms.

The quiet lobby felt cavernous at this hour, the polished floors reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers. Shubman nodded politely at the night receptionist, who glanced up from her desk and gave him a knowing smile.

He tried not to think about how this must look—a young cricketer carrying a woman to her room in the middle of the night.

As he reached her door, Shubman shifted her weight slightly, fumbling for the keycard in his pocket. Tara stirred at the movement, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, sending an unexpected jolt through him. He froze.

“Stay asleep,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though commanding her compliance.

Inside the room, he carefully laid her down on the bed, his movements deliberate. The soft mattress seemed to cradle her as he pulled off her shoes and tucked the blanket over her. She shifted again, her brows furrowing, and for a moment, he thought she might wake.

Instead, her eyes fluttered open halfway, hazy with sleep. “Shubman?” she murmured, her voice low and drowsy, laced with vulnerability.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, crouching down to her level. “You’re home. Go back to sleep.”

She hummed in response, her eyes closing again as a small, trusting smile curved her lips. For a moment, Shubman stayed there, watching her as her breathing evened out.

The vulnerability she showed in this moment, paired with the trust she placed in him, made something stir in his chest—something he wasn’t ready to name.

He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Goodnight, Tara,” he whispered, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised even him.

The room felt heavier as he turned off the lights and stepped out quietly, closing the door behind him. In the dimly lit hallway, he paused, running a hand through his hair.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had shifted something unspoken between them.

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

A couple of hours later, Tara woke with a start. The room was dark except for the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand. Her head throbbed faintly, but the grogginess from earlier had faded, replaced by an unsettling restlessness.

She reached for her phone and began scrolling through Instagram, hoping the mindless distraction would help her relax. Her feed was filled with familiar faces—friends, colleagues, and acquaintances sharing snippets of their lives.

It wasn’t until she came across a post from a girl named Emily that her scrolling faltered. The photo was innocent enough at first glance: Emily, smiling brightly, her arms wrapped around a man whose back was to the camera.

Tara would have kept scrolling, but something about the name Emily tugged at her memory. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen before she scrolled back up to the post. She stared at it for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she took in the details.

The man’s broad shoulders and athletic build seemed familiar, as did the faded tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt. Tara’s heart began to race as her gaze moved lower, landing on the ring on his hand. A wave of nausea rolled through her.

It was unmistakable. The ring was identical to the one she had spent months choosing for Matt—a simple yet elegant band with a subtle engraving along the edge.

Her mind scrambled for rational explanations, but each thought led her back to the same conclusion. The shirt, the tattoos, the hair, the ring... it all added up.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as she zoomed in on the image, hoping she was wrong. But the closer she looked, the clearer it became.

It was Matt.

The room spun as the realization sank in. She stared at the photo, her chest tightening with a mix of anger, betrayal, and disbelief.

Tara scrolled through Emily’s profile with trembling fingers, scanning for more clues. Most of the posts were harmless—selfies, travel photos, and candids with friends—but a few featured the same man, always with his face obscured.

The captions were playful, filled with emojis and inside jokes that now felt like daggers to Tara.She dropped her phone onto the bed, her hands covering her face as her breaths came out in short, shallow bursts.

Her mind raced, replaying every moment of her relationship with Matt. The distance, the cold replies, the late-night excuses—it all made sense now. She had ignored the signs, clinging to the hope that they were simply going through a rough patch. But this? This was undeniable.

“No,” she whispered again, her voice cracking as she sat up straighter. She felt a lump in her throat, the tears threatening to spill, but she forced herself to stay calm.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up her phone and stared at Matt’s contact. She wanted to call him, to demand answers, but the weight of the situation paralyzed her.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Tara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t let this fester. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. Resolute, she swung her legs off the bed and grabbed a hoodie to throw over her pajama top.

Her reflection in the mirror stopped her momentarily. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wide with worry, but she straightened her posture and hardened her expression.

“It’s time,” she muttered to herself.

Grabbing her room key, she made her way down the hall toward Matt’s room. The air in the hallway felt heavier with each step, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock on the door, pausing for a moment to gather herself before finally letting her knuckles rap against the wood.

The sound echoed, and she held her breath, waiting.

Tara’s hand lingered in midair, her knuckles still tingling from the knock. The hallway was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioning filling the tense silence. She stood there, every second stretching unbearably long, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing Matt. His hair was tousled, and his shirt clung unevenly to his shoulders as though he’d just rolled out of bed. His brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his blue eyes.

“Tara?” he said, his voice groggy but tinged with concern. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

Tara felt her throat tighten at the sight of him, so familiar yet so far removed from the man she thought she knew. The ache in her chest grew sharper as she thought of the photo—of Emily, of the ring.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice unsteady but firm.

Matt blinked, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. He hesitated before stepping aside to let her in. “Okay,” he said cautiously. “Come in.”

The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. His neatly packed suitcase sat in the corner, and a faint whiff of his cologne lingered in the air. Tara stepped inside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if holding her emotions in place.

Matt closed the door and turned to face her. “What’s going on?” he asked softly, though his tone held a nervous edge.

Tara’s fingers dug into her arms as she met his gaze. “I saw something tonight,” she began, her voice shaking. “On Instagram.”

Matt frowned, his confusion deepening. “Instagram?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “A post from a girl named Emily. She was hugging someone in the photo... someone whose back was turned. And at first, I didn’t think anything of it. But then I looked closer.”

Matt stiffened, his expression suddenly guarded.

“I noticed the tattoos,” Tara continued, her voice gaining strength as anger began to simmer beneath her words. “The shirt, the hair... and the ring. The same ring I spent months choosing for you.”

She saw it then—a flicker of guilt in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Matt, just tell me the truth.”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Tara stumbled back a step, her vision blurring as the weight of his confession crushed her. Her hands trembled at her sides, her mind racing with questions she didn’t know how to ask.

“How... how could you?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Tara—”

“No,” she interrupted, her tone rising as anger and heartbreak clashed inside her. “You don’t get to justify this, Matt. I trusted you. I’ve defended you. I’ve held on through every excuse, every late-night phone call, every moment where you made me feel like I wasn’t enough. And this is how you repay me?”

His jaw tightened, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “We’ve been falling apart for months,” he said, his voice hardening. “You know that. We barely see each other, we barely talk—”

“Because we’re both working our asses off!” Tara shot back, tears now streaming down her face. “Because I thought we were building a future together! That’s what people do when they’re in love, Matt—they try. They don’t just... give up and cheat.”

Matt flinched at the word, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, okay? It just... it just happened. Things between us have been so strained for so long, Tara. You know that as well as I do.”

Tara shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. “So that’s your excuse? Things got hard, so you just ran into someone else’s arms?”

His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t run, Tara. I just... I realized we’re not the same people we were when this all started. You’ve been so caught up in your work, and I’ve been... I don’t know. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe we’ve both changed.”

Her chest tightened at his words, her anger giving way to a hollow ache. “So what are you saying?” she asked, her voice breaking. “That I’ve been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore? That everything we’ve built, everything we’ve promised, was just... nothing to you?”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Matt said quickly, his tone desperate now. “It was real, Tara. It still is. But we’ve been drifting apart for months. You feel it, too—you have to.”

She stared at him, her breath shallow as his words sank in. Deep down, she knew there was truth to what he was saying. Their relationship hadn’t been the same for a long time. But that didn’t make his betrayal any less painful.

“You should have told me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “If you were unhappy, if you thought we were falling apart—you should have talked to me, Matt. You owed me that much.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know, Tara, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

The apology felt hollow, and this time, she didn’t let it go. Tara let out a bitter laugh, her hands shaking as she ripped the engagement ring from her finger.

“You’re sorry?” she said, her voice rising, every word trembling with fury and pain. “Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you let me believe in something that didn’t exist anymore. You don’t deserve my forgiveness, Matt. You don’t deserve me.”

She hurled the ring at him, the metal glinting in the dim light before it bounced off his chest and fell to the floor.

“It’s over,” she said, tears streaming down her face as she backed toward the door. “Whatever we had, whatever we were—it’s done. I’m done.”

“Tara, wait—”

Don’t,” she snapped, her voice breaking as she turned the handle. “Don’t follow me, Matt. Don’t call me. Don’t try to fix this. You’ve already broken it beyond repair.”

With that, she stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. She stumbled into the hallway, her sobs echoing in the empty corridor as she clutched her chest, trying to hold herself together.

But as she walked back to her room, the tears wouldn’t stop. Her heart felt shattered, but somewhere deep inside, a small spark of relief flickered—relief that it was finally over, that she no longer had to hold on to something that was dragging her down.

For the first time in a long time, she was free.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

But as she walked back to her room, the tears wouldn’t stop. Her heart felt shattered, like jagged pieces cutting into her with every step. She clutched her arms tightly around herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart entirely.

By the time she reached her door, her breathing was ragged, and the weight of the silence around her felt suffocating. She fumbled with the keycard, her trembling hands making it nearly impossible to slide it into the slot.

When she finally stumbled inside, she pressed her back against the closed door, sinking to the floor as sobs wracked her body. The room felt colder, emptier than ever, and her reflection in the mirror across the room stared back at her—a version of herself she barely recognized.

She buried her face in her hands, her mind replaying every cruel word, every broken promise, every hollow apology Matt had given her over the years. The relief she felt earlier was eclipsed by the gnawing doubt and confusion swirling in her head.

Was it her fault? Could she have done something differently? Had she wasted years of her life believing in a lie?

The questions looped endlessly, pulling her deeper into the dark, chaotic mess of her thoughts. Sleep wouldn’t come that night.

Even as the hours dragged on and her tears dried, Tara remained curled up on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, haunted by the echoes of what was and the emptiness of what would never be.