The roar of the crowd echoed through the ground as the inter-university football final was about to kick off. Zahir stood at the centre of the field, his eyes scanning the sea of spectators. His gaze immediately locked on Khushi, who was standing at the sidelines, her bright eyes trained on the opposing team's captain, Ryan.

Zahir's jaw clenched. 'Of course,' he thought bitterly, 'she's cheering for Ryan.' She stood there, wearing Ryan's team jersey, clapping enthusiastically every time Ryan so much as adjusted his gear. His stomach twisted with jealousy, his grip on the football tightening. The sight of her smiling at Ryan's direction made him feel a surge of possessiveness he couldn't shake.

Zahir took a deep breath, trying to shove aside the irrational jealousy gnawing at him. 'Focus on the game, not her,' he told himself. But it wasn't easy. Every time he glanced her way, she was cheering for Ryan. The same Ryan who she had been hanging around with, laughing with, spending way too much time with lately.

'If he thinks he can impress her...' Zahir scoffed internally. He would make sure Ryan wouldn't get that satisfaction. Not today. Not on his field.

The referee blew the whistle, and the game began.

Zahir moved swiftly, commanding his team with precision. His team's formation was tight, and they knew how to play to his strengths. He dodged, passed, and tackled with laser focus, determined to outshine Ryan on every front. Ryan's team, however, wasn't backing down. The match was fast-paced, with neither team giving an inch. Both captains were skilled, pushing their teams to the limit.

Ryan made a quick pass to his striker, who sprinted toward Zahir's goal, but Zahir's defender blocked him just in time, sending the ball back toward midfield. Zahir received the pass smoothly, pivoted, and sent the ball flying toward one of his forwards.

For nearly the entire game, it was a tense back-and-forth. Every time Ryan's team came close to scoring, Zahir's defence would tighten. When Zahir's team pushed forward, Ryan's defence stood strong. It was a battle of wills—both teams fiercely determined to come out on top.

Zahir darted around defenders, weaving through the midfield with incredible footwork, but Ryan matched him move for move. Ryan was quick, agile, and skilled, but Zahir was relentless. As the minutes ticked down, neither team had scored, the tension in the stadium reaching a fever pitch.

The crowd was roaring, and it felt as if Khushi's cheers for Ryan echoed in Zahir's ears, fueling his frustration. 'She's watching him. Fine. Let her watch,' he thought. He would make sure she had something else to look at soon.

With only a minute left on the clock, Zahir's team had possession of the ball. Ryan's defenders tightened their formation, trying to close every gap, but Zahir wasn't about to give up. He called for the ball and received it just past midfield. His heart pounded in his chest, his eyes locked on the goal, but he could feel Ryan's presence closing in on him fast.

Zahir feigned left, tricking Ryan into overcommitting before quickly switching direction. He sprinted down the field, dodging one defender after another, his movements fluid and precise. As he neared the penalty box, Ryan came charging toward him. Zahir barely managed to sidestep him, feeling Ryan's shoulder brush against his.

There was no time left. Zahir glanced up—only a sliver of space between him and the goal. Without hesitation, he pulled back his leg and fired a powerful shot. The ball sailed through the air, past Ryan's outstretched arm, and the goalkeeper dove, but it was too late. The ball hit the back of the net with a resounding thud.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the final whistle blew. Zahir had done it. His team had won.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Zahir stood there, chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through his veins. But the first thing he did wasn't celebrate with his team. His eyes immediately flicked to the sidelines, searching for her.

Khushi.

She was staring right at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Zahir's lips curved into a slow, triumphant smirk, and he raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Told you so.'

Khushi rolled her eyes in response, but there was a flicker of something else there—something softer. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though she quickly tried to mask it.

Zahir's smirk widened. 'Yeah, she saw that.'

Turning away, he jogged over to join his teammates in celebration, but even in the midst of the victory shouts and pats on the back, his mind lingered on Khushi. No matter how much she tried to act indifferent, he knew he had gotten under her skin. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she didn't want to admit.

As Zahir stood at the centre of the field, soaking in the cheers of the crowd, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find Ryan, his rival throughout the match, grinning at him.

"Congrats, man," Ryan said, pulling Zahir into a friendly hug. "You earned that win."

Zahir, though competitive, respected Ryan's sportsmanship. He gave a half-smile, clapping Ryan on the back.

"Thanks. You put up a good fight. Tough match."

"Almost had you there a couple of times." Ryan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Almost," Zahir smirked, emphasising the word with a playful jab. "But not quite."

They exchanged a few more words before parting ways, Ryan joining his team as they headed off the field. Zahir took one last glance toward the stands, where Khushi was still standing. She wasn't cheering anymore — just watching him with that same unreadable expression. He quickly looked away and headed towards the locker room.

As soon as Zahir stepped off the field, heading toward the corridor, he heard rapid footsteps behind him. Before he could turn, two bodies crashed into him, hugging him tightly despite his sweat-drenched jersey.

"You won, brother!" Zada exclaimed, her face glowing with excitement as she pulled back just enough to look at him. Zahir chuckled, ruffling his sister's hair.

"I always do," he said arrogantly, the cocky edge in his voice causing both Zada and Zian to roll their eyes in unison.

"Ah! The arrogance that reached the goal post even before the ball did," Zian quipped, nudging Zahir with a grin.

Zahir raised an eyebrow at his brother but didn't get a chance to reply before Zada, her smile turning mischievous, leaned in closer.

"By the way," she began, her voice teasing, "what was that eye contact you had with Khushi just after you scored the goal, huh?"

For a split second, Zahir's confident façade slipped, his heart skipping a beat as he paled.

"Eye contact? What nonsense!" He protested, waving a hand dismissively.

"Oh please, we saw it," Zian chimed in, his laughter echoing through the tunnel as they walked.

"There is something wrong with your eyes. I made no eye contact with anybody," Zahir insisted, a little too quickly, trying to maintain his composure. His pulse was racing—had they really noticed? "Anyways," he added hastily, "I need a shower. I will see you both in the cafeteria in twenty minutes."

Before they could press further, Zahir hurried past his siblings, his mind racing as he escaped their teasing. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in their relentless questions about Khushi.

"Don't think you escaped, bro!" Zada called after him, her voice full of laughter.

Zahir smiled to himself as he flipped her the bird over his shoulder without looking back. Their laughter filled the hallway as he headed for the locker room, trying to shake off the nagging thoughts about Khushi and her smile.

'I need that shower,' he thought to himself, though he couldn't help but replay the look in Khushi's eyes just before he turned away. Even as he tried to forget, it seemed impossible.

A/N

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