The lobby was quieter than usual that evening, the soft murmur of conversations mingling with the faint hum of rain against the windows.

Tara was heading back to her room after dinner when she spotted Matt sitting by the lounge fireplace.

At first, she felt a flicker of hope. He looked relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips. But the hope dimmed when she noticed the woman sitting beside him.

Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she leaned toward Matt, laughing at something he’d said. He chuckled in return, the kind of warm, easy laugh that Tara hadn’t heard from him in months.

Tara froze, her heart pounding. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but the way the woman’s hand briefly rested on Matt’s arm was enough to make her stomach twist.

She lingered for a moment, torn between walking away and confronting him. But before she could decide, the woman stood up, her laughter fading as she leaned closer to say something softly to Matt. He nodded, his smile not faltering.

Tara turned and hurried to the elevators, her thoughts spinning.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The rain had been relentless all morning, casting a somber gray over Wellington’s typically vibrant streets.

Tara stared out of her hotel window, the sound of raindrops tapping against the glass echoing her restless thoughts.

She hadn’t slept well, her mind cycling through Matt’s interaction with the woman the night before and the growing tension she felt every time Shubman’s quiet, observant eyes seemed to see more than she was willing to share.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Tara, breakfast!” Hardik’s cheerful voice rang from the hallway.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” she called, already dreading the inevitable confrontation she would have to face if Matt showed up in the lounge.

She sighed, grabbing her camera and a scarf before heading out.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The breakfast lounge was a mix of lively chatter and the soft clink of cutlery. Most of the Indian team had gathered in their usual clusters, with Ishan and Shreyas attempting to sneak extra pancakes while Rohit pretended not to notice.

Tara scanned the room quickly, her heart sinking when she saw Matt sitting at a table near the corner, engrossed in conversation with the same woman from yesterday.

“Tara!”

She turned to see Hardik waving her over to his table, where Shubman, Yashasvi, and Jadeja were seated. The familiarity of their faces was a relief, and she slipped into the empty chair beside Shubman.

“Rough morning?” Shubman asked, his tone light but his eyes catching the tension in her features.

“I’ve had better,” Tara replied with a faint smile.

As the others joked and laughed, Tara found herself thinking about her parents. It had been months since she last visited them in Delhi.

Between her demanding career as a fashion designer and their equally hectic social calendars, their communication had dwindled to the occasional call or message.

Her father, Ravindra Arora, was one of Delhi's most influential industrialists, running a conglomerate that spanned luxury real estate, textiles, and even hospitality.

Her mother, Ranjana Arora, was a former beauty queen turned philanthropist, known for her charity galas and appearances in high society magazines.

Growing up in such a world had been both a blessing and a burden. Tara’s parents had given her every opportunity—elite schools, international vacations, the freedom to pursue her passion for design—but their expectations were a constant shadow.

“You’re the Arora heir,” her father would remind her whenever she voiced hesitation about her role in the family business.

But Tara had chosen a different path. Instead of managing the empire, she had built her own name in the fashion world, earning accolades for her innovative designs.

And though her parents were proud, she always sensed a lingering disappointment that she hadn’t fully embraced their vision for her life.

“Tara?”

Shubman’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she realized he had been watching her.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her coffee. “Just zoned out for a second.”

“You do that a lot,” he remarked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Comes with the territory,” she replied.

“What territory?”

Tara hesitated before shrugging. “Let’s just say life’s complicated when you’re carrying a legacy you’re not sure you want.”

Shubman raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Fair enough.”

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

After breakfast, Tara decided to escape the tension by exploring the city. She borrowed an umbrella from the concierge and stepped into the rain-soaked streets, letting the cool air clear her mind.

Wellington had a charm that felt worlds apart from the glitz of Delhi. The cozy cafés, bustling markets, and friendly faces offered a kind of simplicity she hadn’t realized she craved.

As she wandered, her phone buzzed with a call. She hesitated when she saw her mother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, Mom,” Tara answered, her tone cautious.

“Tara, darling! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us,” Leela’s voice was warm but carried the familiar undercurrent of reproach.

“Things have been hectic,” Tara said, ducking into a quiet alley to avoid the drizzle.

“Too hectic to call your parents?” Leela teased. “We saw the article about you designing for the Indian cricket team. Your father is very proud.”

Tara’s chest tightened. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Are you still planning to come home next month? We’re hosting a gala for the hospital fundraiser. It would mean a lot if you were there.”

“I’ll try,” Tara said, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it.

Leela sighed softly. “I know you’re busy, darling. Just... don’t forget where you come from, okay?”

“I won’t,” Tara replied, her voice quieter.

As the call ended, she leaned against the wall, the weight of her mother’s words pressing down on her.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

By late afternoon, the rain had eased, and Tara returned to the hotel. She found the players gathered in the lounge, engrossed in a heated debate about their fantasy league.

“You’re back!” Hardik exclaimed, waving her over.

“Thought you’d run away from us,” Ishan added with a grin.

Tara smiled, but her attention was drawn to Matt, who was sitting on the other side of the room. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

“Everything okay?” Shubman asked, appearing beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied, her voice strained.

“Want to take a walk?” he offered, surprising her. “Sometimes fresh air helps.”

Tara hesitated before nodding. “Sure.”

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

They walked along the hotel’s garden path in silence for a while, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the wet grass. Tara clutched her scarf tightly, the chill in the air matching the unease in her chest.

“Want to talk about it?” Shubman asked eventually, his tone casual but kind.

Tara shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, smirking.

She laughed despite herself, the sound breaking through her tension. “It’s just... complicated.”

“Complicated seems to follow you around,” he remarked.

“You have no idea,” she replied, shaking her head. “Sometimes I feel like my life is this perfect picture everyone’s painted, but the brushstrokes don’t even feel like mine.”

Shubman stopped walking and turned to face her. “Then change it.”

Tara looked at him, startled by the simplicity of his statement. “It’s not that easy.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying,” he said, his voice steady.

For a moment, Tara let herself consider his words. She had spent so long trying to balance everyone else’s expectations—her parents, Matt, her career—that she hadn’t stopped to think about what she wanted.

“Maybe,” she said softly.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

That evening, Tara returned to her room, her thoughts heavier than ever. She opened her laptop, hoping to distract herself with work, but her focus wavered.

A knock at the adjoining door made her jump. She opened it to find Shubman standing there, his expression unreadable.

“I forgot to say something earlier,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re stronger than you think, Tara,” he said simply. “Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

Her chest tightened, but she managed a small smile. “Thanks, Shubman.”

He nodded and stepped back into his room, leaving her alone with his words.

As she sat on the edge of her bed, Tara realized that for the first time in years, she was beginning to question the path she was on—and whether it was truly hers to follow.