Training was tense.
Arjun could feel the tension in the way passes came at his feet too fast. In the way Faizan stopped calling for the ball. In how silence filled the space where jokes used to live.
He didn't want a war.
But he wasn't going to dim his fire either.
---
The week after the East Bengal match, the Kerala Blasters staff gathered them for a surprise announcement.
Coach Sameer walked into the room holding an envelope.
"Two of our own have been called up to the India U23 squad."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
He paused, then read the names.
"Faizan Qureshi."
A few claps. Faizan cracked a half-smile.
"And… Arjun Dev."
Silence for a beat.
Then louder claps — forced in some corners, genuine in others.
Arjun didn't smile. He turned to Faizan.
Faizan didn't meet his gaze.
---
That night, the silence between them broke.
In the locker room, Faizan leaned back and spoke, voice low.
"You know what hurts the most?"
Arjun didn't respond.
"That I've worked every day since I was a kid. I've bled for this club. But now everyone looks at you like you're the story."
Arjun looked at him, voice steady. "I didn't ask to be the story."
"But you became it."
They stared at each other — two boys carrying different kinds of pain. Then Faizan stood up.
"Congrats on the call-up."
"Same to you."
---
Across the city, Kalyani faced her own storm.
A reporter had ambushed her during a break in filming.
"So… about Arjun Dev?"
"I don't comment on my personal life."
"But you were seen cheering for him last week."
"He's a player with great potential."
"Is this a publicity stunt for your next film?"
That one stung.
That night, in her hotel room, she threw her phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Her mother called.
"You're trending again. Be careful. This can derail your image."
"I'm not doing anything wrong."
"Doesn't matter. In this industry, perception is louder than truth."
---
Arjun, meanwhile, packed his kit bag for the national team training camp.
Before boarding the team bus, Coach Sameer stopped him.
"National jersey isn't just another kit."
Arjun nodded. "It's a story."
Sameer raised an eyebrow. "A what?"
Arjun smiled faintly. "That's what my father used to say. The national shirt isn't fabric. It's a chapter."
Coach clapped him on the shoulder.
"Make it a good one."
---
At the U23 camp, everything felt faster.
More intense. Less forgiving.
There were boys from all over India. Each one with something to prove.
But Arjun quickly stood out — not with flair, but with clarity. He read the game two seconds before it happened. Coaches noticed. Journalists noticed. Players whispered.
But not everyone was happy.
A senior midfielder, Rohit Bedi — Delhi-born, AIFF golden boy — didn't take kindly to Arjun's quick rise.
During a scrimmage, he left a boot high.
Arjun went down, clutching his shin. The coaches blew the whistle. No card. Just tension.
Later in the locker room, Rohit passed by and muttered, "Watch your step, golden boy. This isn't your fairytale."
---
Kalyani watched the match live on her phone from her vanity van. Her scenes were delayed, but she barely noticed.
It wasn't just Arjun she was watching.
It was what he carried — that hunger, that quiet desperation in every movement.
She realized then — this wasn't fame for him.
It was atonement.
---
Arjun didn't score in the U23 debut. But he assisted one goal and was named Man of the Match.
After the game, he received a note in the dressing room:
> "One step closer. Your father would be proud."
— A friend from Thrissur
He didn't recognize the handwriting.
But he held onto it.
Like an anchor.
---
Back at Blasters camp, Faizan trained harder. Longer. He stopped talking altogether.
He was becoming sharper — more clinical. The coaches praised him more.
Aditya Menon, the captain, pulled him aside one evening.
"You know, you and Arjun… you're fire and ice."
Faizan shrugged.
"I mean it. You push each other. You just don't see it yet."
Faizan looked out across the pitch. "We're not friends."
"Not yet," Aditya said, walking off. "But sometimes rivals make the best teammates."
---
Arjun returned from camp to a changed atmosphere.
Faizan nodded at him during warm-up.
It wasn't a smile.
But it was a start.
---
That night, Arjun received a call.
Kalyani.
"How was your first national match?"
"Tougher than ISL," he laughed. "But I held my own."
A pause.
"You're not just holding your own, Arjun," she said. "You're carrying something much heavier than anyone realizes."
He hesitated. "And what about you? How's the heat?"
"Unbearable," she said. "But you were right. Let them talk. I've decided not to back away."
That made him smile.
"Does this mean…?"
"It means next time you look up from the pitch, I'll be there again."
---