22. The Families Meet

Shaurya

The trip ended 15 days ago, bringing us back to the ever-bustling Delhi. The team dispersed to their respective homes, but I decided to stay here with Maa. It's been a while since we had uninterrupted time together, and I cherish these moments with her whenever I'm off the field. Though Delhi feels like home, I've bought a penthouse and an apartment in Mumbai and Bengaluru, where I spend most of my time during domestic matches and practice sessions. Each city holds its own rhythm, its own meaning in my journey.

The next 15 days are blissfully match-free—a rare pause in my otherwise relentless schedule. The first half of this break flew by in a whirlwind of brand commercials and overseeing projects for my company. Over the years, I've ventured into investments and built something I'm proud of—my clothing brand, StyleSculpt, and the chain of fitness centers I named StriveEdge. Each carries a piece of me, my passion, and my drive. There's a spark in the idea of expanding into the hospitality business, too, though for now, it's just a thought.

Amid the busyness, one constant remained—my Anya. We met thrice in these 15 days, though our schedules barely allowed for more. But even in the quiet moments apart, her presence filled my days through messages and video calls. There's something comforting, something grounding, in hearing her voice and seeing her smile even if it's through a screen.

I know she can't follow me to every corner of the world, and I wouldn't ask her to. She has her own dreams to chase, her own world to nurture. For now, we've learned to treasure the distance, and to trust that this love we share is enough to span every mile.

But oh, how I miss her more than I let on.

Tonight, I'm taking Maa to her nutritionist's place for dinner. Over time, Maa and her nutritionist have become more than client and consultant—they're friends now. When the invitation came, Maa insisted I join her, her excitement practically bubbling over. I didn't have the heart to say no, though I couldn't quite figure out why she seemed so thrilled about this dinner.

Dressed in an Oxford blue button-up shirt and light green pants, I gave my reflection a quick once-over. I tied on my watch, slipped into my polished brown shoes, and adjusted my matching belt. After setting my hair with care and spraying my favorite cologne—an understated but confident scent—I picked up my wallet and headed out.

"Shaurya, we are getting late!" Maa's impatient voice echoed from the living room. I chuckled softly, shaking my head. She has a way of turning every outing into an event. Her excitement was almost contagious as she stood, ready to go the moment she saw me descending the stairs.

"Radha, we're leaving now," she called out to the head help, her voice carrying that no-nonsense tone she always adopts when giving instructions. "Take care, and don't forget to hand the keys to Mohan before leaving."

Radha nodded, offering a crisp "Ji, Ma'am," and we stepped outside into the cool evening air.

I walked over to the driveway and unlocked the sleek, black Bentley Continental GT—my latest indulgence. The car gleamed under the porch lights, a testament to my love for vehicles. With a collection of 18 cars—Audis, Benzes, and this beauty among them—not to mention my eight bikes, it's fair to say I have a weakness for speed and style.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I felt a familiar thrill as the engine purred to life. Maa settled beside me, her excitement palpable. As we pulled away, the city lights reflected off the windshield, the promise of the evening ahead lingering in the air.

"Stop at some sweet shop or bakery, Sonu. We should take some sweets for them," Maa said with that affectionate tone only she could manage. Yes, Sonu—that's the name she's always called me, her way of keeping me her little boy no matter how far I've come.

I smiled, nodding without a word, and pulled over at one of the renowned sweet shops on the way. The warm scent of freshly made sweets filled the air as we stepped inside. Maa browsed the shelves with the expertise of someone who knew exactly what would impress, selecting a variety of treats.

Once the box was wrapped, I carried it out and placed it carefully on the back seat. "Anything else, Maa?" I asked, glancing at her as I settled back behind the wheel.

"No, beta. That's enough," she replied with a satisfied smile.

The hour-long drive that followed was peaceful, filled with occasional hums of a favorite tune from Maa and the faint murmur of the city fading into quieter streets.

We finally arrived at our destination—a charming bungalow nestled in the heart of a lush green garden. The house was surrounded by vibrant flower beds and tall trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. In the garden, four wooden chairs and a matching table were arranged under the open sky, while a swing sat invitingly a little further away. It was the kind of home that exuded warmth and tranquility.

I parked the car on the spacious patio and stepped out, taking a moment to admire the serenity of the place. It wasn't often I found homes that resonated with me, but this one did.

Walking around, I opened the door for Maa with a slight bow, earning a chuckle from her. "Thank you, Sir," she teased.

Grinning, I reached for the box of sweets from the back seat. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the garden.

We pressed the bell and waited, the soft chime echoing beyond the door. Maa, ever the perfectionist, adjusted her already impeccable pallu once more, her fingers deftly smoothing the fabric into place.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a woman in her early fifties. Dressed in an elegant navy blue suit, her face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile. She stepped out, and before a word could be exchanged, she pulled Maa into a gentle hug. The affection between them was palpable, and Maa reciprocated with equal enthusiasm.

"We were just talking about you," the lady said, her voice filled with delight as they pulled back from the embrace. Then her gaze shifted to me, her smile softening with maternal warmth.

"Welcome, beta. How are you?" she asked, her hands still holding onto Maa's while Maa's hands clung fondly to her elbow. Watching them, I couldn't help but smile—it was as if they'd known each other for years instead of a few months.

"I'm good, Aunty. How are you?" I replied politely, leaning forward to touch her feet in greeting.

"Oh, I'm good too, beta," she said, her hands reaching up to caress my head in a gesture so kind it felt almost familial. "I've seen you a lot on TV. My son talks about you all the time—he's playing for the Junior team, you know."

Her pride was evident, and I offered her a genuine smile, imagining the joy her son must feel hearing his mother speak about him with such admiration.

"That's wonderful, Aunty," I said, meaning it.

She gestured for us to come inside, leading us to a cozy living room filled with warm lighting and tasteful decor. The couch she pointed to looked inviting, its cushions plump and inviting in soft shades of cream and gold. Maa and I took our seats as she disappeared momentarily, returning with water and an eagerness to make us feel at home.

"Vijay, the guests are here!" Aunty called out, her voice carrying a subtle note of authority as she turned toward the hallway.

Moments later, a tall, fit man entered the living room. Dressed in a crisp black shirt paired with brown trousers, he exuded an effortless elegance. The subtle silver in his hair added an extra layer of charm to his already commanding presence. I instantly recognized him—Vijay Shergill, the former Indian Badminton champion, a name synonymous with brilliance and discipline.

"I'm here too!" he declared with a grin, his tone laced with mischief. "Now, where are our little minions?" His playful words hung in the air, clearly directed at someone unseen.

Aunty, however, didn't seem as amused. She shot him a pointed glare, her tight-lipped smile doing little to mask her mild exasperation. "Vijay, behave," her eyes seemed to say without a single word spoken.

Uncle cleared his throat, the glint of mischief in his eyes dimming slightly as he straightened up. Folding his hands, he greeted Maa with a respectful nod and a warm smile. "Namaste, Didi," he said earnestly.

After a brief exchange, his attention shifted to me. "Hello, Shaurya! It's an honor to have you," he said, extending a firm hand in my direction. His handshake was strong but friendly, a silent testament to his years as an athlete.

"Hi, Uncle. It's my honor to meet you," I replied sincerely, matching his smile as we shook hands.

Uncle eased into the single chair nearby, his posture relaxed yet poised. His presence had a magnetic quality, effortlessly drawing everyone into the conversation.

"You all continue chatting. I'll check with the maids about setting the table," Aunty said with a warm smile, gracefully excusing herself. It struck me that I still didn't know her name.

Uncle turned toward me, his sharp yet kind eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So, how is captaincy treating you? Are you finding it challenging?"

I returned his gaze, offering a small, genuine smile. "It is challenging, but I'm enjoying the new responsibilities," I admitted. "Every match feels like a test, and the adrenaline of making decisions on the spot keeps me motivated."

He nodded, an approving smile spreading across his face. "That's a great perspective. Vansh says something similar. That boy has been a fan of yours since he was a child. His sister introduced him to cricket, and now he's completely hooked. He practically eats, sleeps, and breathes cricket!" His pride was palpable, his chest almost swelling as he spoke about his son.

For a fleeting moment, my mind wandered. Would Dad have looked at me with the same pride if he were still here? That thought stirred a mix of emotions in my chest—pride, longing, and a touch of sorrow.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I refocused on the conversation. Uncle's warmth and genuine interest made it easy to engage. "Vansh is fortunate to have such support. Passion, when nurtured, leads to greatness," I said, meaning every word.

Uncle smiled deeply at that. "That's true. He's lucky to have his sister cheer him on, and I've made it my mission to ensure he has every opportunity he needs."

As the conversation flowed, I learned more about him. He co-owned a prominent IT company with branches across the country, and as if that weren't impressive enough, he also ran his own coaching institute with two thriving branches.

Before we knew it, the topics shifted effortlessly—from cricket strategies to the intricacies of business management, and finally, a fascinating discussion on global economics. It felt surprisingly refreshing to converse with someone who could match my enthusiasm in so many areas.

"Vijay! Call Vansh once. They left two hours ago to get ice creams and haven't returned yet," Aunty's voice carried from the kitchen, her tone a mix of worry and mild annoyance.

Uncle immediately grabbed his phone, dialing with the ease of someone accustomed to such instructions. His conversation was brief, his voice calm yet slightly authoritative.

"They'll be here in a few minutes, Rashmi," he yelled back, slipping the phone into his pocket before turning to me with a smile. "Kids these days, always losing track of time."

I nodded, laughing softly, though my mind was now preoccupied with a strange sensation bubbling inside me. As Uncle and I shifted to random topics—his coaching experiences, my team's latest adventures—I found myself distracted by a faint hum of anticipation.

Then, the distant roar of a car's engine cut through the quiet evening. The sound grew louder as it neared, and I instinctively turned my head toward the door. Uncle noticed and smiled knowingly. "That must be Vansh. Always making an entrance," he joked.

Vansh? The name echoed in my mind, triggering a faint but unmistakable connection. Vansh... Could it be?

And then it clicked.

Vansh. Anya's brother, Vansh. My Anya.

The realization hit like a bolt of lightning. My gaze darted to Uncle—no, Vijay Shergill. Vijay Shergill, father of Ananya Shergill, my Anya.

My grip on the armrest tightened as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The easy laughter, the shared warmth between our families, the familiar vibe that I couldn't quite place until now—it all made sense.

What were the odds? Out of all the people, and all the places, I had unknowingly walked into her house. And she had no idea.

A slow, amused smile began to form on my lips. This night was about to get very interesting.

"Mumma, before you scold us for being late, your favorite black raspberry chip ice cream was not—" Vansh's words froze mid-sentence the moment his eyes landed on us in the living room. His initial surprise quickly morphed into a sheepish grin as his gaze flickered between Maa and me.

Recovering quickly, he stepped forward and touched Maa's feet, his ears tinged a deep red. "Namaste, Aunty," he said softly, clearly a little embarrassed but trying to compose himself.

Maa blessed him warmly, her smile as gentle as ever. "God bless you, beta."

He then turned to me, his boyish charm shining through as he waved like an excited child. "Hi, Shaurya Bhaiya!"

I couldn't help but chuckle, getting up to greet him. "Hi, Vansh!" I said, pulling him into a quick hug. He hugged me back firmly before stepping away, his usual energy bubbling back.

"I'll just go put this in the freezer," he blurted out before dashing toward the kitchen, not giving anyone a chance to react.

As I sat back on the couch, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. My gaze shifted toward the hallway, and there she was—my Anya.

She walked in absentmindedly, tossing a set of keys into the air and catching them skillfully. There was a casual ease to her movements, a grace that seemed almost unconscious. But the moment her eyes landed on me, everything changed.

The keys slipped through her fingers, falling to the ground with a soft clink as her wide, startled eyes locked onto mine.

Her expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief. Her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but no words came out. I could see her struggling to process the sight of me sitting comfortably between her father and Maa, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

She bent down quickly, snatching up the keys from the floor, her movements suddenly stiff. I fought the urge to laugh at her panic, finding it both endearing and amusing.

Straightening herself, she approached us with a nervous energy that she was clearly trying to mask. Her gaze darted from her father to Maa, carefully avoiding mine, as if looking at me would somehow confirm her worst fears.

"What are you doing here?"

Her voice was soft but sharp, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. Her eyes were wide, the kind of shock that only came from seeing the unexpected. She stood frozen for a second, her hands trembling just slightly, and I couldn't help but notice. Why was she shaking? Did I look that intimidating? Or maybe... I was just too irresistible for her to handle.

I watched her hand rise to the back of her head, as Aunty stepped in with a smack to her head, the sound sharp but the affection behind it undeniable.

"Behave," Aunty muttered, her voice laced with playful authority.

Ananya pouted and rubbed the spot where Aunty had hit her, giving her mother a look of mock indignation. The sight was so ridiculously adorable, that I almost let my laughter slip, but I caught myself in time, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep it under control.

Her gaze darted around the room, as though she had no idea what to do next. I couldn't hold back anymore and let out a quiet chuckle.

"Mrs. Singhania is your mother's friend, dear. And you know Mr. Singhania too," her father's calm voice cut through the air, putting an end to her bewilderment.

Her mouth fell open in surprise, her expression changing from confusion to realization in a flash. An 'O' shape formed with her lips. She quickly turned toward Maa and took her blessings, her smile a little uncertain, but still warm.

I couldn't resist. As the others were distracted, I caught her eye and winked. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, a shade I adored, and she quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. But her attempt at glaring at me only made her look even cuter.

She wasn't fooling anyone.

Aunty whispered something in her ear, and with a small, almost hesitant smile, Ananya walked toward the stairs. Vansh followed her a few moments later, leaving me with a quiet moment to reflect.

I sat back, mentally preparing myself. I had to make a lasting impression on these people. I couldn't afford any slip-ups if I was going to ask them to let me marry Ananya. The stakes were high, but the game was just beginning.