For- SwagataGhosh5

-----

The roar of the crowd echoed through the dressing room as Rakul pushed open the door, Swagata trailing behind with a reluctant smile. Inside, jubilation filled the air. Shubman Gill, still in his pads, beamed at Rakul, who practically launched herself at him for a hug.

"That was phenomenal, Shubman!" Rakul exclaimed, her voice filled with pride. Swagata, meanwhile, scanned the room, finally spotting Abhishek sprawled on a bench, gulping down water. He met her gaze and smirked.

"Well, well, well," Abhishek drawled, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "If it isn't Miss Perpetual Scowler, gracing us with her presence."

Swagata rolled her eyes. "Just here to witness the downfall of your short-lived cricketing glory, Wannabe Sharma," she retorted, using his most hated nickname.

Abhishek snorted. "Oh please, Ghosh. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. Unlike your fashion sense, which seems to be stuck on 'potato sack chic.'"

Rakul, oblivious to their playful jabs, pulled Shubman closer. "Ignore them, honey. They're just jealous of your talent."

Swagata scoffed. "Says the man who trips over his own shoelaces."

The back-and-forth continued, a familiar rhythm of insults and playful barbs. Rakul and Shubman, used to their dynamic, exchanged amused glances.

"So," Rakul interjected, once a lull settled in the playful banter, "how about we celebrate with some post-match dinner? My treat, for the star of the show."

Shubman grinned, pulling Rakul closer. "Only if you promise to be my lucky charm for every match."

Rakul giggled, swatting his arm playfully. "Alright, alright, but first, let's get these two to stop glaring at each other like they're about to start a staring contest."

Abhishek raised an eyebrow. "Who's glaring? I'm simply admiring the exquisite display of—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Wannabe," Swagata cut him off, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself.

Shubman and Rakul exchanged another look, a silent understanding passing between them. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to the bickering between Swagata and Abhishek than met the eye. Perhaps, beneath the constant insults, a different kind of spark was waiting to ignite. 

-----

The clinking of glasses and murmur of conversation filled the air as the celebratory dinner progressed. Rakul and Shubman, practically glued at the hip, were a picture of coupledom. They stole glances, whispered sweet nothings, and giggled at each other's jokes. Across from them, Swagata and Abhishek were a stark contrast.

"So, Wannabe," Swagata started, spearing a piece of chicken with a fork, "did you finally master the art of not getting bowled out first ball?"

Abhishek chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Slowly getting there, Ghosh. Maybe I should give you some batting tips next time."

"Please," Swagata scoffed. "The only thing you'd teach me is how to trip over the pitch."

They continued their friendly jabs, dissecting each other's on-field performances with a practiced ease that hid a surprising warmth beneath the surface. As the main course was cleared and dessert arrived, a lull settled in the conversation.

"Seriously though, Swagata," Abhishek began, his voice dropping a notch, "seeing Rakul so happy... it makes you think about relationships, doesn't it?"

Swagata raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "What are you implying, Wannabe? Looking for tips on how to not scare women away with your shoelace collection?"

Abhishek grinned, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips. "Ouch. But seriously, are you seeing anyone?"

"The only dates I have are with deadlines," Swagata replied, taking a bite of her chocolate cake, a not-so-subtle hint of longing in her voice despite the sarcasm.

A comfortable silence followed, punctuated only by the clinking of spoons against dessert bowls. Abhishek swirled the remaining chocolate sauce in his dish, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know," he said, his voice softer now, "you look really nice tonight, Swagata. Not that you ever don't..." he trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Swagata's eyes widened in surprise. Was Abhishek Sharma actually flirting with her? A playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Oh really, Wannabe? Flattery will get you nowhere, you know."

"Not flattery, just an observation," Abhishek countered, his voice gaining a playful edge. "Maybe I should take some tips from Shubman on the charm offensive."

"Oh please," Swagata scoffed, a laugh escaping her lips. "You and charm? Don't make me laugh."

Abhishek watched her laugh, the sound like music to his ears. He found himself captivated by her, the playful banter momentarily forgotten. He noticed a way the candlelight danced in her eyes, the way a single strand of hair escaped her bun, framing her face perfectly.

Suddenly, Swagata caught him staring. Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of self-consciousness. "What?" she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice.

"Nothing," Abhishek mumbled, quickly looking away. "Just... lost in thought."

Just then, Rakul and Shubman reappeared, their faces flushed from dancing. The playful tension that had built between Swagata and Abhishek dissipated, replaced by the comfortable camaraderie of their group.

"Ready to call it a night?" Rakul asked, her arm wrapped around Shubman's waist.

As they hailed a cab for the ride home, a silent question lingered in the air – had a spark ignited between the bickering duo amidst the playful insults and stolen glances? Only time, and perhaps a future encounter free from the pressure of competition, would tell.

-----

The engine rumbled to life, the sound a stark contrast to the mushy love song blasting from the speakers. Shubman, at the wheel, stole glances at Rakul in the passenger seat, their fingers intertwined. In the back, Swagata and Abhishek exchanged a look of mock horror.

"Ugh, here we go," Swagata groaned, reaching for her bag.

Abhishek mirrored her movement, pulling out his own headphones. "Cheesy love songs for the entire car ride? Rakul must be trying to torture us."

Swagata snorted. "Torture? This is pure, unadulterated ear pollution."

A playful smile tugged at Abhishek's lips. "Maybe we should request a change in genre. Something a little less...romantic."

Swagata raised an eyebrow. "You suggesting heavy metal to drown out their giggling?"

Abhishek chuckled. "Hey, if it gets them to lower the volume, I'm all for it."

Their eyes met for a beat longer than necessary, a silent understanding passing between them. This wasn't just about the music; it was a shared amusement at their friends' newfound coupledom.

"You know," Swagata began, her voice barely above a whisper, "they're actually kind of cute together."

Abhishek tilted his head in surprise. He wasn't used to hearing compliments about Rakul and Shubman from Swagata. "Cute?"

"Well," Swagata conceded, "in a sickeningly sweet way. But at least they're happy."

Abhishek nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, happy. Maybe a little too happy," he added with a playful grin.

Swagata nudged him with her elbow, a smile playing on her lips. "Don't get jealous, Wannabe. Maybe you'll find your own muse on this trip."

Abhishek feigned offense. "Muse? Please, Ghosh. I have more important things to focus on, like not getting lost thanks to your terrible sense of direction."

Swagata scoffed. "Hey! At least I don't trip over my own shoelaces."

Abhishek opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue. He found himself staring at Swagata, her smile brighter than the afternoon sun streaming through the window. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe, amidst the sightseeing and planned activities, there would be space for something more – a chance to explore the spark that seemed to flicker beneath their constant bickering.

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away. "Alright, alright. You win this round, Ghosh. But just you wait, I'll have my comeback."

Swagata rolled her eyes, a genuine smile playing on her lips. She popped in her headphones, the music drowning out the love songs but not the comfortable silence that settled between them, a silence filled with unspoken possibilities. 

-----

Rakul practically skipped down the hotel hallway, her keycard flashing green as she unlocked the door to her room. "So, this is it!" she announced, pushing the door open to reveal a plush king-sized bed and a spacious living area.

Swagata followed behind, a tired smile on her face.  "Looks amazing, Rakul. But there's just one little problem..."

Inside, Shubman was sprawled on the bed, headphones on, completely oblivious to their arrival. Rakul's smile faltered.

"Oh," she said, her voice small. "Right. Forgot to mention I snagged Shubman a room next door."

Swagata's smile vanished completely. "Great. Because apparently, that means I get to enjoy the lovely company of..." she trailed off, her gaze landing on Abhishek who was sauntering down the hallway, a giant duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"The one and only Abhishek?" he finished for her, a mischievous glint in his eye.  "Surprise!"

Swagata sighed dramatically as Abhishek shuffled in, SpongeBob pajama clinging to his lanky frame, eye mask perched precariously. "You brought the whole house, huh?" she quipped, stepping aside to let him in.

"Essentials," he mumbled, collapsing onto the couch with a groan. "This feels suspiciously comfortable. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have the luxurious bed, Ghosh?"

Swagata rolled her eyes. "Hilarious. You know the drill, right? Operation Shared Room?"

Abhishek's eyes widened behind the mask. "Oh. Right. Forgot about the musical chairs." He fumbled with the blanket, finally settling in with a sigh.

Hours ticked by. Swagata tossed and turned, the silence of the unfamiliar room pressing down on her.  She peeked over at Abhishek, who seemed to be sawing logs, a rhythmic symphony of snores filling the air.

"Abhishek?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

No response. She tried again, a little louder.

"Abhishek, are you awake?"

A muffled grunt escaped his lips.

"I can't sleep," Swagata confessed, a tinge of sheepishness in her voice.

Silence. Then, a sarcastic, "Maybe the plush bed isn't helping your beauty sleep, Ghosh?"

"Oh, shut up," she mumbled, pulling the covers over her head.

A chuckle rumbled from beneath the covers. "Look," Abhishek's voice softened slightly, "rough night?"

Swagata peeked out, a small frown creasing her forehead. "I don't sleep well alone. At home, I share a room with my sister."

Abhishek's muffled form shifted on the couch. After a beat, he spoke.  "Want to try the magical, snoring-induced slumber on the couch?"

Swagata glared at him in the darkness. "Very helpful."

There was a pause, then a sigh. "Alright, alright. How about a truce?"

Intrigued, Swagata sat up. "Truce?"

"We share the bed," he mumbled, "like civilized adults who aren't about to confess their undying love for each other in their sleep."

Swagata considered it. The thought of sleeping soundly was too tempting to resist.  "Fine," she conceded, "but no funny business."

Before she could blink, Abhishek was scrambling onto the bed, nearly landing on top of her. "See? Sharing is caring, Ghosh."

Swagata swatted him playfully. "Don't get too comfortable, mister."

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden streaks across the room. Swagata stirred, the rhythmic snores having ceased sometime during the night.  She peeked over at Abhishek, expecting the worst.

Instead, she was met with a sight that stole the breath from her lungs.  He was fast asleep, face peaceful, a strand of hair tickling his cheek. He looked...cute. Like a giant, messy-haired puppy.

An involuntary smile spread across Swagata's face.  She reached out a hand, hovering over his face.  A playful glint entered her eyes.  Just as she was about to gently pinch his nose, Abhishek stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

He froze, catching her hand mid-air.  Their eyes locked, a blush creeping up Swagata's neck.  She yanked her hand back, scrambling out of bed.

"Uh... good morning," she stammered, rushing towards the bathroom.

Abhishek sat up, a sleepy smile playing on his lips. "Morning, Ghosh. Sweet dreams?" he called after her, his voice laced with amusement.

Swagata slammed the bathroom door shut, a muffled groan escaping her lips.  This trip was turning out to be more interesting than she bargained for.

-----

The fire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows on their faces as the laughter died down. Shubman, ever the instigator, leaned towards Swagata with a playful grin.

"Alright, Ghosh, truth or dare?"

Swagata, wary of his mischievous streak, countered, "Truth, but be nice."

Shubman chuckled. "Okay, easy one then. Would you ever marry Abhishek?"

The question hung in the air, and Swagata felt a flicker of panic.  Her gaze darted towards Abhishek, who was staring intently at the flames, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Letting out a nervous laugh, she blurted, "Absolutely not! Not even if he was the last man on Earth!"

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.  The memory of the morning, of Abhishek's peaceful face, and the strange urge to tease him, sent a warmth through her cheeks.

However, the immediate reaction was to shut down any possibility of something more.  She couldn't handle the thought of opening herself up to Abhishek, only to be hurt.

To her surprise, a pained silence descended.  She stole a glance at Abhishek, and her heart lurched.  His shoulders slumped slightly, and his gaze seemed distant.

Shubman, oblivious to the tension, nudged Rakul and said, "See, classic Swagata. Always roasting Abhishek."

Rakul simply smiled knowingly.  They were used to the playful banter between their two friends.

Suddenly, Abhishek's voice broke the silence, a low rumble that sent shivers down Swagata's spine.

"Not even when I'm the last person?" He spoke softly, his eyes holding a mixture of hurt and longing.

Swagata felt a pang of guilt stab at her.  She stammered, "It was just a joke—"

"It could have been dodged," he cut in, his voice barely above a whisper.  "You could have said anything, but you chose that."

Panic clawed at her throat.  "Abhishek, you're taking things—"

He interrupted her again, his voice thick with emotion.  "Am I, Swagata?  Here we are, laughing, talking, and then suddenly..."  He trailed off, gesturing vaguely between them.

"Suddenly, what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Abhishek took a deep breath, his eyes locking with hers.  "Suddenly, I can't even entertain the thought of being with you, even in a hypothetical situation?"

The raw emotion in his voice hit her like a tidal wave.  His vulnerability, so different from his usual playful demeanor, cracked open a dam within her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.  She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.  "It's not that," she choked out, her voice trembling.

"Then what is it, Swagata?" His voice softened, laced with concern.

Taking a shaky breath, she confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I... I'm scared.  Scared of getting hurt.  What if things change?  What if this..." she gestured between them, "doesn't work out?"

Abhishek's eyes widened in surprise.  He reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly over hers.  "Swagata," he said gently, "I would never intentionally hurt you.  You are..."  He paused, searching for the right words.  "You're the most incredible, infuriating, stubborn woman I know.  And the thought of losing you... it terrifies me."

A tear escaped her eye, tracing a warm path down her cheek.  She looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest.  "But what if—"

He cut her off, his thumb gently wiping away the tear.  "There are no guarantees, Swagata.  Life is messy.  But I promise you this," his voice dropped to a husky murmur, "I will never stop fighting for you. Or with you"

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.  The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, their faces inches apart, the crackling fire casting a warm glow on their skin.

In that moment, fear gave way to a strange sense of clarity.  She knew, deep down, that she couldn't deny her feelings any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out and cupped his face in her hand.  Her thumb brushed against his cheek, tracing the faint crease from her morning "attack."  A shy smile played on her lips.

"Alright, Mr. I-never-get-hurt," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.  "Maybe I can take a chance on you."