5
Rihaan
BY THE TIME I REACHED the townhouse, everything inside me felt scorched raw, emotions burning so violently beneath my skin that staying still seemed impossible. Like the hour-long drive back into the city from Surrey had given everything inside me room to intensify.
My father. Ishaan. Maeve.
And all the memories that had come crashing back the second I’d stepped into the shop and searched her name online.
At first, I’d only wanted to confirm that the woman standing in front of me was the same Maeve Knox who’d written that paper about me, even though I knew in my gut that it was.
It had been clear in the way she’d watched me as though I’d been some ghost.
But it wasn't until I'd seen Matt's name on her profile that a piece of the puzzle fit into my memory.
Matt Slater. A professional ice hockey player I'd met at one of Vedant's races, and we'd quickly become friends.
And somehow, seeing his name attached to hers had cracked open memories I'd not thought about in years.
The time when I’d first met Maeve years ago at a club in Manchester.
The way she’d laughed.
The way she’d felt against me when we’d dance.
The way she’d tasted when we’d kissed.
The way she’d left.
And just like that, pieces of the past I’d spent years avoiding had started slotting back into place.
I barely registered slamming the front door behind me.
The house was quieter than usual, though not silent. Soft voices drifted faintly from somewhere deeper inside the kitchen, my sister and Oliver talking low enough that they clearly didn’t want to be overheard.
I didn’t have the energy to find out whether they were talking about me or about what had happened yesterday. After Raina came back downstairs, I’d been too preoccupied watching our father turn the whole thing into a piss show to ask her what was going on.
When I’d first started seeing the headlines pour through, I’d expected—wished—that it would simply blow over, considering the paper had already been out for a month, and just hide under the radar with the Bangladesh’s tour of New Zealand, considering we’d be playing the winner of the series next.
But with the matches dragging on long enough for headlines to keep breathing, his comments were still everywhere.
It had already escalated to an ECB review.
I’d gone to his place partly to ask what he was thinking—not just as my manager, but as the man who’d spent my entire career drilling into me and Vedant, the importance of keeping a clean image in sports.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I headed straight for my room and shoved the door shut behind me harder than necessary. For a second, I just stood there in the middle of the mess of clothes and cricket kit, chest heaving like I’d already started running.
Because if I stayed still for even a minute longer, I was going to start thinking.
And thinking felt as dangerous as talking to another human being right now.
Shoving Ma’s journal in the drawer of my side table, I changed mechanically, dragging on a hoodie and running shorts with movements that bordered on violent, like I could pull myself out of my own skin if I moved fast enough.
By the time I’d tied my laces, my pulse was still hammering against my throat.
But when I reached the top of the stairs, I paused at the sight of Raina waiting by the landing. One hand gripped the railing, her gaze fixed toward the kitchen, presumably where Oliver still stood watching her.
Taking a rough breath, I kept my head down and walked down the stairs anyway.
“Hey,” she said carefully, her brows furrowing as she took in my appearance.
I brushed past her, but she caught my sleeve before I could get away.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m going for a run.”
She frowned further, as I felt Oliver’s presence closer to us. “Rihaan. What did he say?”
“Drop it, Raina.” I gritted out, frustrated, yanking my arm harder than I meant to, but it didn’t deter her, instead, the concern in her eyes only grew further.
“He had to have said something. You only get like this after one of his ‘talks’ with you.”
“And how would you know that?” I snapped before I could stop myself. “Did you go back in a time machine to witness the way Dad has one of his ‘talks’ me to understand how I act afterwards, because you sure as hell haven’t been around long enough to know it first hard.”
“That is enough.” Oliver snapped, but the words were already out there. Too late for me to take back. Raina’s expression flickered, hurt breaking through so fast it made my stomach turn.
Good. At least now she’ll feel a fraction of what I’m feeling.
The thought hit hard enough to make me hate myself and push myself out the door, choosing escape over apology because apologising meant admitting I’d done damage on purpose.
Too late now.
I shoved outside into the cold, the air sliced into my lungs, raw and biting.
Maybe if I ran hard enough, I could outrun the look on Raina’s face. Or maybe the rest of the thoughts that piled enough inside me.
But by the time I stopped outside the townhouse an hour and a half and eight miles later, the afternoon sun had already set, my stride was still steady, my breathing barely uneven, and yet it felt like my skin sat two sizes too tight over everything churning underneath it.
The house was silent as I closed the door softly behind me. No sound humming from the living room or from the theatre room upstairs. Just the faint creak of the heating pipes somewhere overhead.
Which meant either Raina and Oliver were back upstairs in their room or out somewhere, which suited me fine. I only wanted a shower and something cold to drink before I attempted to ignore the pressure building behind my eyes.
Walking past the reception room, I crossed the hall toward the open-plan kitchen, already thinking about the smoothie I usually made after my runs.
But as the kitchen came into view, my steps faltered.
For a second, I considered turning around entirely.
I wasn’t in the mood for another strained conversation after the way I’d left things earlier.
Raina stood by the hob, stirring something in a saucepan while steam curled around her. Oliver was behind her, arms looped lazily around her waist, holding her against him like the air worked differently for the two of them.
“You’re still making him Majas after that?” Oliver murmured, his chin brushing her temple. There wasn’t any real bite to it, just quiet amusement threaded through his voice. “Don’t think he deserves it, love.”
Raina huffed out a laugh. “Then it’s a good thing, I’m nice…”
Her words trailed off abruptly as she sensed my presence and spotted me standing in the doorway.
Oliver followed her line of sight a second later, his arms loosening from around her waist as his eyes narrowed in my direction.
“Hey,” Raina said, her eyes flicking between me and Oliver.
I just nodded and crossed the wide stretch of the kitchen towards the fridge, my footsteps dull against the tiles. Warm light spilled from the pendant lamps above the island, catching against the marble counters.
Cold air brushed over my skin as I pulled the freezer open and reached for the one of the zip locks with my prepped smoothie mix stacked neatly in the drawers.
Behind me, the space had gone strangely quiet despite how large it was, the only sound the soft simmer from the hob. The silence carried too easily across the open room, stretched thin and uncomfortable between the three of us.
Grabbing the coconut water, I shut the fridge a little harder than necessary and set the bag down on the counter beside the blender.
When I turned around, both of them were still watching me.
Raina clutched the spatula loosely in her hand, while Oliver leaned back against the counter near her, arms folded now as he watched me. Neither of them looked away.
Something in my chest tightened again.
“What?” I bit out.
Oliver’s expression barely shifted, shaking his head once, like he’d expected that reaction.
“Nothing,” he said evenly. “You just look like hell.”
“Cheers.”
Raina cleared her throat. “You know you don’t have to do this every time, right?”
I raised a brow. “Do what?”
“This.” Her voice softened carefully, like she was testing each word before letting it leave her mouth. “Storm out. Shut everyone out like the world will end if you stayed long enough to share what’s wrong.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “Bit dramatic.”
“Is it?” Oliver asked quietly.
“Yes. I went for a run. That’s hardly a breakdown.” I bit back, looking away to grab the blender with more force than necessary. “Just be glad I came back home instead of the pub.”
Stop being so defensive.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how to.
“No.” Raina said, softly but firmly. “But running eight miles in January when you’re on strict orders to rest, just because you’re upset isn’t exactly normal behaviour either.
You do realise that when you guys have your physical exam next week, you’re going to be under more scrutiny, especially with everything going on? ”
I finally looked at her then. There wasn’t a trace of hurt in her expressions, like my words from earlier had been easily forgotten. Like she’d already made up some excuse for me. But the worry in her eyes was clear as day. Which somehow felt worse.
“You can talk to us, you know,” she said.
“That’s rich,” The words huffed out of me before I realised.
For fucks sake.
“What does that mean?” Raina asked, a deep frown settling on her face.
I hesitated, before forcing myself to shake my head. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Before she could press me any further, her phone began vibrating sharply against the counter. The sound cut through the kitchen fast enough that all three of us looked toward it automatically.
I knew that ringtone.