---
The message came while Arjun was stretching post-training.
A simple vibration in his phone.
A WhatsApp notification from the All India Football Federation (AIFF).
> Congratulations, Mr. Arjun Dev.
You have been selected for the Indian National Team for the upcoming international friendly against Japan (U-25 developmental squad), scheduled for next month in Tokyo. Further instructions and itinerary will follow.
He blinked. Read it again.
Faizan noticed the stillness in his usually-alert teammate.
"You okay?"
Arjun handed him the phone wordlessly.
Faizan's eyebrows shot up.
Then — a grin.
"About time."
---
Coach Sameer clapped him on the back that evening.
"You've earned this, Dev. It's not just about talent. It's about timing."
Arjun nodded, still processing.
"I thought it would take longer."
Coach looked at him. "You've turned games. Led teams. Inspired a league. That's what they need up there — not just skill, but spine."
Arjun's mind was already racing — not with nerves, but resolve.
> The national team. The Tricolor on his chest. The anthem ringing before kickoff.
He closed his eyes and saw the boy he used to be.
Benched. Forgotten. Hoping someone would notice.
Now?
They had.
---
He told Kalyani over a quiet dinner at her place.
She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, no makeup, noodles in one hand.
He showed her the message.
She put the bowl down slowly. Her eyes glistened.
"You're going to wear that jersey."
"I am."
She didn't scream or jump.
She just pulled him into a long hug, the kind that said more than celebration.
"I wish Appa were here," Arjun whispered.
She didn't ask which father he meant — the one from this life or the one from the past.
She just replied, "He is. You carry both of them."
---
As Arjun trained harder, the Blasters' season kept rising.
Another win against Mumbai City FC put them four points clear at the top of the table.
But the media attention around his international call-up was deafening.
Every press conference opened with:
"Are you India's future midfielder?"
"Will you play deeper or advanced?"
"Do you see yourself as a long-term captain?"
He answered carefully. Always grounding his words.
> "I'm just focused on earning my spot."
But inside?
He burned with belief.
---
Meanwhile, Kalyani landed her biggest role yet — a pan-India multilingual drama titled "Aathma", where she played a freedom fighter turned modern activist.
It was political. Intense. Raw.
And emotionally draining.
Their time together shrank — from hours to minutes. From daily to weekly.
One night, after back-to-back late shoots, she missed one of Arjun's AFC games.
He noticed her absence.
But didn't complain.
That weekend, they finally met — tired, emotionally stretched.
She lay her head in his lap, eyes heavy.
"I don't want us to drift," she said softly.
"We won't," he replied, stroking her hair.
"You promise?"
He paused.
"Only if we both keep choosing each other. Even on hard days."
She smiled faintly. "Then I'll keep choosing."
---
The Japan trip approached fast.
Arjun was flown to Delhi for the national camp — a week of drills, systems, and culture.
There he met the veterans — Sunil Chhetri, Gurpreet, and Sandesh Jhingan.
But also new faces — fiery, hungry young guns.
He was paired in midfield with a Delhi boy named Rishabh Malhotra — sharp-tongued, clever-footed, cocky.
On the third day, Rishabh looked at Arjun and said:
"You're the Kerala guy, huh? The 'captain in love.'"
Arjun chuckled. "That what they call me now?"
Rishabh shrugged. "Let's see if your feet do the talking."
Challenge accepted.
---
In the friendly against Japan, Arjun was named on the bench.
At the 60th minute, with India trailing 1–0, the coach turned to him.
"Dev. You're on. Make them feel you."
He stepped onto that Tokyo pitch — neat grass, polite crowd, fast tempo.
And within five minutes, he did what he always did.
Found space.
Kept calm.
Delivered a ball with surgical vision.
Faizan — now also on the pitch — latched onto it, beat one defender, and scored.
1–1.
The bench erupted.
Even the Japanese commentators murmured, "Who is that number 16?"
---
After the match, Arjun sat on the empty bus, earphones in, head tilted back.
He had texted Kalyani:
> "Debut done. Assist in the bag."
She replied a minute later:
> "Told you. Still flying."
He smiled.
Then pulled out a folded note from his pocket — Timo's letter.
Still carried it.
Still read it.
And now, he wrote below it:
> "Wearing my country's colors now. One life ended on the sidelines. This one's just warming up."
---
Back in India, news of his debut flooded headlines.
> "Arjun Dev: From ISL Dreamer to International Playmaker."
"India's Midfield Messiah Arrives."
He didn't care for the noise.
He only cared about the next match.
And about her.
---
As the plane descended back into Delhi, Arjun looked out the window.
The clouds parted, and the city lights below looked like constellations.
He thought:
> *If I can carry this fire…
Then maybe I can carry a nation.*
---