16 #2
Maeve didn’t push, just looked at me intently, hands still, watching me like she had all the time in the world.
I looked away first.
“Because I can play.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
A breath left me slowly.
God, I was so tired of this.
Not of her.
Well, maybe a little. But only when she forced me to sit with this feeling.
Of everything.
Maybe that’s why it had been easier to speak the truth. Maybe if I spoke it out loud once, it won’t stick inside me this much. “It’s the one thing I’ve always been good at. If you bench me…it’ll just mean that—”
I cut myself off, every part of me refusing to speak that it had been my own father who had instilled in me that this was all I had.
All that I was good at. Because, if I did, and she still benched me, it wouldn’t hurt as much.
That she knew the truth, and still went ahead.
It wasn’t her burden to bear. Just mine.
I cleared my throat. “It’ll mean that I’m not good at it anymore, either.”
Her expression changed.
Not pity.
Something quieter.
Like she understood the weight of that sentence more than I wanted her to.
I kept my eyes fixed somewhere past her shoulder.
“Cricket,” I said again, like naming it would make it simpler. “It was the one thing I never had to question. I could be shit at everything else and still walk onto a field and know exactly who I was.”
My throat tightened slightly, and I hated that it did.
When Maeve finally spoke, it was softer.
“Rihaan. You’ve just had one of the best careers in the history of the sport.
In a single year, you’ve won the World Cup, the County Championship.
The Hundred. And you’re very well onto your way of winning the Test Championship too.
Benching you for one game won’t change that, but it might increase your chances for the better.
You’ve had this pain since last year, you need to be careful with it. ”
“And I will. I’ve already told my agent that I won’t be taking part in the Domestic Championships this year.”
That surprised her. “You have?”
I nodded. “After New Zealand, if we win, I’m on a break until June.”
“You’re not lying, right?”
The question landed differently this time. This time, I knew why.
I'd done it too many times already. Lied about the pain. Lied about what I remembered. Lied about who I was.
Still, knowing that didn't make the question hurt any less.
“No.” The word came quietly.
She searched my face, as though she was trying to decide whether she could afford to believe me.
“I’m not,” I repeated. “I won’t do that again.”
Her expression shifted—something in it collapsing slightly, like she hadn’t expected honesty to look like this.
And that was the moment I noticed it.
She cared. Not just professionally. Not clinically.
She cared in a way that didn’t fit neatly into anything we’d been pretending this was.
And that should have felt like relief.
Instead, it felt like exposure. Like the attempts I’d made to keep her at bay had been useless.
I gave her a faint, humourless smile. “That should make you happy, though.”
Her brows pulled together immediately. “Why?”
“Your paper is turning out to be right.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “If the coach benches me, it takes off all the pressure for you when you do quit.”
Her face fell. “Rihaan…”
I looked away again.
Because I couldn’t look at her and see anything else than the hurt I’d made her feel. Again.
She was quiet for a long moment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, softly. There was something different than when she’d said it yesterday.
Sincerity.
It didn’t fix anything.
It didn’t undo anything.
It just sat there between us, fragile and incomplete.
“Me too,” I finally said. And I meant that in a way I didn’t want to unpack.
As though she shared that mutual feeling, she gently grabbed my shoulder again and started working on it again.
When she was done ten minutes later, I stood before she could say anything else.
My shoulder flared instantly in a slow protest, but I ignored it. “Thanks for the help.”
“Rihaan—”
I was already moving. Because if I stayed, I didn’t trust what I’d say next. Or what I might hear in return.
The corridor outside felt colder than it should have. The noise of the stadium was distant now, muffled like it belonged to another version of the day.
And as I walked, I realised something I didn’t want to admit.
It hadn’t been the pain that made me leave.
It had been her silence after I spoke.
Maeve was always noise.
And now that she wasn’t—
I didn’t know what to do with the quiet she left behind.
THE SUN HAD COMPLETELY disappeared as I pulled into the driveway of our rental.
The house was warm, lights glowing through the windows, and for a brief second, I stood outside with my hand still on the door handle, wondering whether I had the energy to deal with anyone.
I didn't.
Unfortunately, the moment I stepped inside, I heard laughter from the sitting room. Raina and Ollie were sprawled across the couch, some rubbish television show playing in the background.
Ollie looked up first.
“How's the shoulder?”
I shrugged. “Fine. I need to take it easy if I want to play next week.”
Raina's eyes immediately lifted from her phone. “She’s considering benching you?”
I nodded, already walking in the direction of my room.
“Where are you going?”
“My room.”
“No.” Raina’s firm voice made me stop.
She patted the empty space beside her. “Sit.”
“I’m tired.”
“I’m not asking you to lift the couch. Just sit,” She pointed. “Ollie made your Mac and Cheese with spicy bacon-jalapeno.”
That got my attention.
Carbs sounded so good right now, and when it came to Oliver—he was already such a good cook, but his pasta dishes were definitely his speciality, along with eggs.
I sprawled across the couch, making sure I didn’t put any pressure on my injured arm. A few minutes later, Ollie returned with a bowl big enough to feed two people, and set it in front of me. “All yours. We’ve already had dinner.”
“Thanks,” I replied, taking a big bite. “Dude, I love your cooking.”
Oliver grinned as he settled back next to Raina, who was still watching me carefully.
“What are you working on?” I asked, pointing to the laptop screen that sat facing her on the couch, adamant to distract her. “Work?”
“I was, but I’ve just sent over my notes to—for a statement.”
“Statement?” I frowned.
“Yeah. F1 silly season stuff.”
“Ah.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m looking at venues, now.”
“For what exactly?”
“Vedant and Leah's engagement party.”
My frown deepened. “I thought they already had that? Or did I imagine the party we had in December?”
Raina snorted. “This is for Leah’s family…
mostly? I mean, I’m not sure if he’s planning on inviting Dad or not.
But, apparently Leah wants some grand desi event because apparently she never got to have one for her other daughter who got married last year.
So she just sent me a list to check out—apparently the boy’s family needs to approve or something. ”
I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like something neither of them would go for.”
“Yeah,” She flicked through the photos, showing me a few as she went along. “But her family are not exactly big fans of Vedant because he didn't listen to them. So I think he's doing this for them.”
“Listen to the about what?”
She paused, her gaze flickering from her phone to Oliver to me. “How her parents had told him not to approach Leah, or tell her that they shared a history?”
I gave her a confused look.
Raina sighed, before clicking her phone off. “Leah and Vedant went out for a while when they were kids, and both of them were racing drivers. But shortly after, Leah had a racing accident that resulted in her getting a few serious injuries. Amnesia being one of them.”
“Are you serious?”
Raina nodded tersely. “Yeah. And her dad—who’s a well celebrated Formula One Champion basically threatened that if Vedant ever even tried to mention it to her, he’d ruin his career because she’d developed a heart condition, and big stressors like being told you don’t remember months of your life can put her in danger.
So, when they started dating…it just flipped them out. ”
My widened eyes did fairly well to display my shock. “How do you even know all of this?”
She pressed her lips together. “It took a very unfortunate incident for him to spill his gut out to us.”
“Us?” I asked, my eyes turning to Oliver. “You knew?”
He hesitated. “Yeah…” His gaze flicked to Raina.
Taking his lead, she added softly. “Vedant asked us not to say anything. I don’t think even Dev knows half the stuff we do.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I added, my voice carrying no trace of humour. “They probably have more secrets from us than we do from them.”
Raina sighed, slowly shifting back into the couch. “Yeah, well, that’s also an unfortunate incident. But, I’m serious—I don’t think Dev knows. So, just don’t say anything even if you suspect differently.”
“Are they in a fight? The last I saw them together in December, they seemed fine.”
Raina shrugged. “Vedant was also upset when he found out Ishaan working for him, but even when they figured that stuff out—Dev was upset about what he did in Silverstone. I think we all know if given the chance, Dev would choose work over love, so I think it’s just Vedant protecting Leah.
He’s worried that he wouldn’t understand his reasons. ”
I pressed my lips together as I went over her words in my head. A weird feeling settling in me as I realised how further I’d grown from my siblings. A couple years ago, I’d been the one who always in the loop, but now I’m one of the last one finding truths about my own blood.
“Anyway, I do think that once Leah sees what her mum actually manages to pull together, I'm fairly sure they'll elope. These venues are huge.” Raina laughed.
“That sounds more like Vedant.” I forced a smile.
It barely lasted a second.
Silence settled over the room again.
The television murmured in the background as I quietly kept eating.