The soft knock on Tara’s door came just as she was preparing to leave for a strategy meeting with the Indian team.

She froze for a moment, hoping it wasn’t who she feared. When she opened the door, her suspicions were confirmed.

Matt stood there, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. His face wore an expression she couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps, or annoyance masked as concern.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low.

Tara hesitated. A part of her wanted to slam the door and walk away, but another part of her—the one that still clung to the memories of what they’d once shared—nodded silently and stepped aside to let him in.

Matt moved to the center of the room, his gaze scanning the sketches and fabrics scattered across the desk. “Still working on the jerseys?” he asked, his tone neutral.

Tara crossed her arms, her patience already thinning. “Matt, why are you here?”

He turned to face her, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Because I hate how we’ve been lately. I know things haven’t been perfect, but I want to fix it.”

Tara’s jaw tightened. “Fix it? You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks, and when you do, it’s excuses or half-truths. And then there’s this... woman.”

Matt frowned. “Emily is just a friend. I’ve already told you that.”

Tara shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “Do you even hear yourself? If she’s just a friend, why didn’t you tell me about her earlier? Why are you always more present with everyone else than you are with me?”

Matt’s gaze flickered to the floor. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Tara let out a humorless laugh. “It does matter, Matt. It matters because it feels like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

He looked up at her then, his expression hardening slightly. “Do you know how hard it is to juggle everything? Matches, training, expectations... It’s not just about us, Tara. My career is on the line every day. I don’t have time for constant doubts and accusations.”

Tara’s chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than she expected. “So I’m just another burden to you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Matt said quickly, but the damage was done.

Tara shook her head, stepping back toward the door. “Maybe we both need to figure out what we really want, Matt. Because right now, I don’t think this is working.”

Matt stared at her, his lips parting as if to argue, but he said nothing. Instead, he gave her a curt nod and walked out, leaving her alone with the silence and her racing thoughts.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The meeting was already underway by the time Tara arrived at the conference room. Hardik waved her over, making space beside him.

“You okay?” he asked under his breath, noticing her pale expression.

Tara nodded quickly. “Fine. Just running late.”

The team discussed strategies and plans for the upcoming match, but Tara struggled to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to Matt’s words and the weight of what they’d both left unsaid.

“Earth to Tara,” Hardik whispered, nudging her gently. “You with us?”

She blinked, realizing the room had gone quiet. Virat was looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” she asked, her cheeks burning.

Virat gave her a faint smile, though his eyes held a hint of concern. “We were asking if you’re ready for tomorrow’s shoot. Everything on track with the jerseys?”

“Yes,” Tara replied quickly. “Everything’s ready. I’ll oversee the fittings and photos.”

Virat nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the team.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

After the meeting, Tara found herself lingering by the practice grounds. She needed air, something to clear the fog of her thoughts.

“Skipping lunch?” Shubman’s voice startled her.

She turned to see him leaning casually against the fence, his bat resting on his shoulder.

“Just needed a break,” she said, managing a small smile.

Shubman studied her for a moment before nodding. “Want to hit a few balls? We’ve got the nets free.”

Tara hesitated. “I’m not exactly in the mood for cricket right now.”

“Which is exactly why you should do it,” he said, his tone light but insistent. “Come on. Just a few. I’ll even bowl slow.”

Before she could argue, Shubman handed her a bat and guided her toward the net. He tossed her a ball underhanded, and she swung half-heartedly, missing completely.

“Wow,” he teased, stepping closer. “That was... something.”

Tara laughed despite herself, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“Let’s fix that,” Shubman said, adjusting her grip on the bat. His hands brushed against hers briefly, and Tara felt a spark she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

“Focus,” he said, stepping back.

This time, when he tossed the ball, Tara connected, sending it flying down the net.

“See? Not bad,” Shubman said, grinning.

Tara smiled, the moment of triumph washing away some of her earlier doubts.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Later that evening, Tara sat on the balcony of her hotel room, her camera resting in her lap. She had spent the past hour reviewing the photos from practice, but her thoughts kept drifting to her conversation with Matt—and to Shubman’s quiet encouragement.

Her phone buzzed with a message.

Matt
I’m sorry for earlier. Let’s talk tomorrow.

Tara stared at the screen, her emotions a tangled mess. She wanted to believe him, to believe that things could still be salvaged.

But another part of her—one that felt lighter and freer after today—wondered if she was clinging to something that no longer existed.

Before she could respond, a knock at the adjoining door broke her train of thought.

Shubman stood there, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

Tara hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

Shubman leaned against the doorframe, his presence steadying. “Well, if you need a distraction, we’re playing cards in the lounge. Hardik’s already losing badly.”

Tara laughed softly, the sound breaking through her tension. “Thanks. I might join you in a bit.”

Shubman nodded, his smile easy. “Take your time.”

As he walked away, Tara leaned against the door, the weight in her chest easing slightly.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that the path she was on wasn’t set in stone—and that change, however frightening, might be exactly what she needed.