Chapter 26
Kabir's Perspective
I stepped through the front door, the familiar warmth of home wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. My body ached from the fight, and my lip throbbed slightly where Jai had landed that one hard punch, leaving a noticeable bruise beneath it. I hoped no one would pay too much attention to it—I didn't want Mom worrying.
The sound of clattering dishes and laughter from the kitchen told me that everyone was gathered there. I headed straight for the living room, where Mom appeared first, her face lighting up the moment she saw me. Her eyes darted to the gold medal hanging around my neck, and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
"Mom!" I called out, feeling a wave of pride and joy that had nothing to do with the medal, but everything to do with seeing her so happy.
I didn't hesitate. I pulled the medal from around my neck and gently placed it on her, watching as she stood there, momentarily speechless. Her fingers brushed against the medal, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked at me, pure emotion in her gaze.
"This belongs to you," I said softly, holding her gaze, wanting her to know how much her support meant to me.
She blinked back tears and smiled through them. "No, Kabir. This is yours. You earned this," she said, her voice thick with pride. Then, in true Mom fashion, she reached out and gently touched my face, pausing when her thumb brushed near the bruise just under my lip. She frowned slightly but didn't say anything.
I bent down to touch her feet, seeking her blessings. Her hands came to rest on my head, her touch filled with love and pride. "You've made us all so proud today, beta."
Next, I turned to Dad, who had been watching the scene unfold with a look of pride of his own. I bent down to touch his feet, too, and he patted my shoulder firmly. "Well done, son," he said. "You fought like a true champion."
Chachu, as usual, couldn't contain his excitement. He pulled me into a tight hug before I even had a chance to touch his feet. "Kabir! You were fantastic out there! I knew you'd do it!" he exclaimed, his booming voice filling the room.
Chachi stood beside him, smiling knowingly. There was a sparkle in her eyes—one that seemed to say I know exactly who you fought for today. I touched her feet, too, and she patted my back, her eyes flicking briefly to the bruise but choosing not to say anything.
Then came my favorite part. I walked over to where Arjun was sitting, his small face lit up with excitement. I scooped him up in my arms, causing him to squeal with delight. "Arjun, guess what?" I said, leaning in conspiratorially. "This little trophy is all yours."
I handed him the small trophy, and his eyes widened as he grabbed it with both hands. "Really, bhaiya?" he asked, looking at the shiny object as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
"Really," I confirmed, lifting him higher in my arms. "You're my champ."
"Congratulations, bhaiya!" Arjun shouted, holding the trophy up in the air, mimicking the cheers I had heard at the match. The whole family laughed, and for a moment, all the aches and pains from the fight faded away.
After some more celebration and chatter, I excused myself to head upstairs. I desperately needed a shower. The soreness in my muscles and the dull ache under my lip were catching up with me. In the bathroom, I stood under the warm water, letting it ease the tension in my body.
When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I noticed the bruise on my lip had darkened, and there were a few other spots where punches had left marks. I winced slightly but shook it off. It was part of the game. Besides, this bruise came with a victory, and I'd take that trade any day.
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the cool air hit my still-damp skin, and I felt the weight of exhaustion settle over me. My muscles ached from the intensity of the match, and every step reminded me of the blows I had taken. There was a slight sting under my lips where Jai had landed a solid punch, but I brushed it off as a battle scar. I had won, and that was all that mattered.
Wrapping the towel tighter around my waist, I headed to my room. The familiar scent of sandalwood filled the air—it was comforting, like home always was. I dropped onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Everything felt surreal, like the match was a blur of adrenaline, and now the calm had settled in.
A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and before I could respond, my mom walked in with a plate in her hands. She didn't say anything right away, just smiled at me, a mixture of warmth and pride in her eyes. It was the kind of look only a mother could give, the kind that said a thousand things without saying a word.
"You look exhausted," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me.
"I am," I admitted with a grin, running a hand through my damp hair. "But it was worth it."
Her eyes glimmered with pride. "Of course, it was. You've worked so hard for this. I knew you'd win."
I chuckled lightly. "You say that like it was never in doubt."
"Because it wasn't," she said simply, placing the plate on the nightstand. "You have always given your best, Kabir. Today was no different."
She reached over, and before I could protest, she gently tilted my face to the side, her thumb brushing over the bruise under my lip. Her touch was feather-light, but I could feel her worry.
"That looks painful," she murmured, her brow furrowing slightly. "Does it hurt?"
I shook my head, trying to downplay it. "Not really. It's nothing serious. Just part of the game."
She sighed, her fingers still hovering over the bruise before she pulled back. "I know, but seeing you hurt... even if it's part of the sport, it's hard. You're my son."
I could hear the concern in her voice, but it was wrapped in pride. She wasn't the kind to get overly protective, especially when it came to something I loved. She understood why I pushed myself, why I put my body on the line for something I was passionate about. Still, I knew it wasn't easy for her to see me bruised up.
Without another word, she reached for the plate and picked up a small piece of kaju katli, her favorite. She brought it to my lips, and I took a bite, savoring the sweetness.
"For my champion," she said softly, her eyes never leaving mine.
I swallowed the sweet, feeling a lump in my throat that had nothing to do with the kaju katli. I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt this wave of gratitude wash over me. She had been there for me every step of the way, quietly supporting me, never pushing, but always believing.
"Thanks, Mom," I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended.
She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "You've earned it, Kabir. You always do."
For a moment, we just sat there in comfortable silence. The room felt warmer, more peaceful, as if time had slowed down just for us. I leaned back against the headboard, and she stayed beside me, her presence grounding me in a way that only she could.
"You know," she began, breaking the silence, "when you were little, you used to run around the house pretending to be all these superheroes. You'd always say you wanted to save the world."
I laughed softly, remembering those days. "Yeah, I thought I could fly if I ran fast enough."
She chuckled, nodding. "You were convinced. I used to watch you and think, 'He's going to grow up and conquer whatever he sets his mind to.' And look at you now."
"I didn't conquer the world, though," I teased, leaning my head back against the wall.
"No," she agreed, her voice thoughtful. "But you're conquering your world, step by step. That's what matters."
Her words hung in the air, and I realized just how much she had always believed in me, even when I didn't. Through all the struggles, the late-night practice sessions, the failures and successes, she had been there, quietly cheering me on from the sidelines.
"Sometimes, I wonder if I push too hard," I admitted, surprising even myself with the confession.
Her eyes softened. "You push yourself because you care, Kabir. Because you want to be better. That's not a bad thing. But remember, it's okay to rest too. To take a breath and appreciate how far you've come."
I nodded, taking in her words. She always had a way of grounding me, of reminding me what was important.
"I will," I promised, and I meant it.
She smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. "Good. Because you deserve to enjoy this moment, Kabir. You've earned it."
There was something in her voice, a quiet insistence that made me pause. I could tell she wasn't just talking about the boxing match. She was talking about everything—about life, about all the things I sometimes took for granted in my rush to move forward.
"Thanks, Mom," I said again, feeling that same swell of gratitude in my chest.
She stood up then, smoothing the edge of her sari as she moved toward the door. "Rest for a while. Lunch will be ready soon."
I nodded, watching her leave the room. As the door clicked shut behind her, I let out a long breath and leaned back against the pillows. The exhaustion was starting to catch up with me, but there was a sense of peace too.
My mom had always been my quiet supporter, the one who believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself. She never asked for anything in return, never expected grand gestures. Just knowing that I was doing my best, that I was happy, was enough for her.
I glanced at the medal resting on my bedside table, the same one I had put around her neck when I first walked in. She deserved it more than I did. Every victory I had was hers too, because without her, I wouldn't be half the person I was today.
Smiling to myself, I closed my eyes, letting the calm wash over me.
I woke up around 9 p.m., feeling refreshed after my long nap. The house was quiet now, the evening having settled into a peaceful rhythm. I stretched, my muscles still a little sore from the match, but the rest had done wonders.
I headed downstairs and found Mom in the kitchen, tidying up after dinner. She looked up when she saw me and smiled warmly. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah, much better," I replied, walking over to her. "Mom, can I borrow your phone for a bit?"
She gave me a curious look, but handed over her phone without hesitation. "Who are you calling this late?"
"I just need to call Aditi's mom," I said casually. "I missed some schoolwork today because of the match, and I need to catch up."
The phone was still in her hand, but she didn't let go immediately. Instead, she narrowed her eyes slightly, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Aditi's mom, huh?"
I sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. "Yes, Mom. Aditi's mom," I repeated, trying to keep my voice even.
She handed me the phone but didn't move, her expression far too amused for my liking. "You're just calling about schoolwork, right?"
"Of course," I said, trying to keep a straight face.
Mom tilted her head slightly, her smile growing wider. "You know, Kabir, you've been mentioning Aditi quite a lot these days."
I could feel the heat rising in my face. "She's a friend, Mom," I mumbled, though I knew I wasn't fooling her.
"A friend?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone laced with playful suspicion.
I avoided her gaze, focusing on the phone in my hand. "Yes, just a friend."
There was a pause, and then, in her softest voice, she said, "You know, beta, it's okay if you like her. You don't have to hide it."
I looked up, meeting her knowing eyes. She wasn't teasing anymore, just waiting patiently for my response. I sighed, realizing there was no point in denying it.
"I do like her," I admitted quietly, feeling a bit exposed but also relieved. "I don't know what'll happen, but... yeah."
Mom's face softened, and she smiled—a genuine, proud smile. "I knew it," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Just be yourself, Kabir. That's all that matters."
I smiled back, feeling the weight lift off my shoulders. "Thanks, Mom."
She nodded and turned back to the dishes, her eyes twinkling. "Now go make your call. Just don't take too long."