The Mumbai sun was rising as Kiara arrived at her family home, the familiar facade a welcome sight after her long journey. Her brother, Mishaal, swung the door open, his teasing grin barely concealing his excitement. "Move quickly, I need to get ready," Kiara urged, her voice a mix of impatience and anticipation.

She ascended the stairs two at a time, her mind racing with the day ahead. In her room, she surveyed her wardrobe, selecting an orange suit that spoke of confidence and style. The tie belt cinched at her waist, accentuating her poised demeanor. She paired it with open-toed heels, the very image of professionalism, and swept her hair into an elegant bun that complemented her outfit perfectly.

Then she took her car and went towards the BCCI. She met Jaisha and Rahul Dravid. Rahul Dravid said, "Ms.Advani, please sit."

Kiara sat down and Rahul Dravid said, "I will ask you a few basic questions first." Kiara nodded and Rahul asked, "Why is the mental health of the cricketer important?" Kiara said, "I feel that anyone's mental health is important."

Rahul Dravid asked, "If one of the team member's mental health is down, what will you do? Will you prescribe them medicines?"

Kiara said, "Sir, pills are not everything. If any team member's mental health is down then I will talk to them and understand their problem. I will never suggest pills to any of my patients until required."

Rahul Dravid nodded and said, "You are hired, Ms.Advani. You can join us to the JW Marriot tomorrow with your lugguage as we will be traveliing."

Kiara said, "Sir, please call me Kiara. Ms.Advani makes me feel very old." Rahul Dravid nodded and Kiara left from BCCI headquarters. She stopped at a cafe and bought some coffee and sat on the table and said, "I will meet Virat Kohli tomorrow!"

She picked up her phone and called Genevieve and said, "Maa, I got selected!" Genevieve said, "That's great, Kiki."

She spoke to her for sometime and went home and Mishaal said, "Finally getting rid of you." Kiara rolled her eyes and hugged Jagdeep and said, "Papa, tell this donkey to not enter my room at any cost."

Jagdeep said, "Of course, Kiki. Mish will not enter you room. Now go and pack. You need to leave early right?"

Kiara nodded and she went to her room and put her favrouite music and started packing for the next day's work.

                                                          ✨✨✨

Shubman sat alone in his room, the silence around him a stark contrast to the lively discussions echoing from the banquet hall below. The team was gathered there, strategizing and bonding, but Shubman felt disconnected, his thoughts a million miles away.

His phone rang, breaking the stillness. It was Ishan, his voice laced with concern. "Veere, people are asking about you. Please come down," he pleaded.

"No," Shubman replied curtly, and with a click, the conversation ended. He leaned back, the memories of Ananya flooding his mind, each one a sharp jab to his heart.

Downstairs, the absence of the team's rising star didn't go unnoticed. "Isn't Mr. Gill joining us?" a representative inquired. The question bounced from Ishan to Rohit and finally to Virat, who covered for his teammate. "He's unwell today, so we advised him to rest," Virat explained, his patience wearing thin.

The representative pressed on, noting Shubman's recent reclusiveness. "He's not been very social lately. Is everything alright?"

Virat assured him, "Yes, everything's fine. He's just taking some time for himself." But as the evening wore on, Virat found himself repeating this excuse, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

After the event, Virat couldn't contain his irritation any longer. He stormed into Shubman's room, finding him lost in thought on the balcony. "From tomorrow, you're attending every event," Virat declared.

Shubman turned, surprised. "What?" he asked, taken aback.

"I'm tired of making excuses for you," Virat said, his voice rising. "Everyone's asking about you, and I'm running out of lies."

"But Virat bhai—" Shubman started, only to be cut off.

"No 'buts' or 'ifs.' You're coming to tomorrow's event. We're introducing the new psychiatrist to the media, and you need to be there," Virat insisted.

Shubman's plea was desperate. "Please, bhai, I don't want to go."

Virat's frustration boiled over, and he yelled, "YOU ARE COMING! We can't keep lying. If this continues, the BCCI might question your place on the team."

The commotion drew the team to Shubman's room. Rohit tried to defuse the situation. "Vi, calm down," he urged.

Virat's anger was palpable. "Calm down? He's the future of Indian cricket, and we can't have rumors of stage fright spreading."

Rohit's voice was steady. "Let's handle this peacefully," he suggested, and the team dispersed.

Rohit turned to Ishan. "He listens to you. Try to convince him. He needs to break out of this."

Ishan nodded and entered Shubman's room. His friend sat there, head buried in his hands. "Veere, are you crying?" Ishan asked gently.

Shubman looked up, his expression defiant. "Why would I cry?" he retorted.

Ishan's smile was encouraging. "Come to the event. It won't be the same without you."

Shubman hesitated. "Ishan—"

"You're letting the past control you," Ishan interjected. "You're more than this."

Finally, Shubman relented. "Fine, I'll come."

Ishan's relief was evident. "Tell Vi bhai," he said.

Shubman knocked on Virat's door. "Vi bhai, I'll be at the event tomorrow," he announced.

Virat's response was sincere. "Good, and I'm sorry for yelling."

"It's okay, bhai," Shubman replied, a weight lifted from his shoulders. He left for the practice pitch, his bat in hand, ready to face the challenges ahead.

The evening shadows lengthened as Shubman, still clad in his practice gear, felt his phone vibrate. It was Keart, her voice carrying the warmth of home. "Had dinner?" she inquired, a simple question laced with layers of unspoken care.

"No," came Shubman's terse reply, a word that hung heavy in the air.

"Shub, are you alright?" Keart pressed, concern etching his voice.

"Hmm..." Shubman's noncommittal hum was a feeble shield against the worry that now seemed to envelop him.

Lakwinder's voice then joined the chorus of concern. "No, you are not okay. It's been a year, Shub. Your cricket is flawless, but where is the son who lit up our lives with his laughter? I miss him."

Shubman's response was a silent one; he simply closed his eyes, letting the darkness behind his lids wash over him, a temporary escape from the reality Lakwinder's words painted.

Shahneel's voice, gentle yet insistent, broke through. "Shub, call me when you're free."

With a soft "Hmm..." Shubman ended the call, the weight of the conversation settling in his stomach, heavier than any meal.

Later, alone in the sanctuary of his room, Shubman dialed Shahneel's number. Her voice was a lifeline. "Shub, I know it's hard. I understand the pain," she soothed.

"Why do people toy with emotions, Di?" Shubman found solace in confiding in Shahneel, the one person who could navigate the labyrinth of his heart.

"Shub, Ananya is a chapter closed. Perhaps the one meant for you is just around the corner," Shahneel offered, her optimism a stark contrast to Shubman's desolation.

"I feel so empty, Di. I'm anchored to this spot, unable to move," Shubman confessed, his voice a whisper of defeat.

"Try, just try to attend tomorrow's event. Speak to a few souls, not everyone. Trust me, it might brighten your world," Shahneel encouraged.

A noncommittal "Hmm..." was all Shubman could muster.

"Sleep now, recharge. Good night," Shahneel's voice was the last thing he heard before the line went dead.

"Good night, Di," Shubman whispered into the silence.

He changed into his pyjamas, the soft fabric a small comfort against the chill of his thoughts. As he lay down, the day's burdens began to lift, and sleep, merciful and oblivious, claimed him.