The morning light in Madrid had a different quality to it—softer, hazier, filtering through the wooden shutters of Isabella's apartment. Siddanth woke up to the smell of coffee, strong and dark, wafting from the kitchen.
He just lay there, listening to Isabella humming a tune in the other room.
She walked in a moment later, carrying two mugs.
"Buenos días," she smiled, handing him a mug.
"Buenos días," Siddanth replied, sitting up and taking a sip. "You're up early."
Isabella sat on the edge of the bed. "I made a call. I called my boss. I told him I have a 'personal emergency'."
Siddanth raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"
"The emergency," she grinned, poking his chest, "is that there is a handsome Indian cricketer in my bed who leaves in two days, and I intend to monopolize his time."
She leaned in. "I took three days off. For these three days. I'm all yours."
Siddanth's face broke into a wide, genuine grin. The kind he usually reserved for a century.
"Three days? Just us?"
"Just us," she confirmed. "And your friends, I suppose, for the match. But until then... I am your tour guide."
Siddanth set the coffee down on the nightstand and pulled her into a hug.
"We will enjoy these two days to our heart's content," he promised, burying his face in her hair.
---
After a long, lazy shower (which took longer than necessary for obvious reasons), Siddanth dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt. He picked up his phone. He had five missed calls from Arjun.
He dialed back.
"Finally!" Arjun's voice barked. "We are at the hotel lobby. We have a map. We have a plan. We are going to the Prado Museum. Get your uncultured behind over here."
Siddanth bit his lip, suppressing a laugh.
"Yeah... about that, Arjun. Change of plans."
"What change?"
"Isabella took the day off," Siddanth said, winking at Isabella, who was applying lipstick in the mirror. "She wants to show me the 'real' Madrid. The hidden spots. So... I won't be joining you guys until this evening."
There was a silence on the line. Then, a dramatic gasp.
"Traitor!" Arjun shouted. "We are abandoned! Cast aside for a woman! You promised brotherhood! You promised solidarity!"
In the background, Siddanth could hear Sameer laughing. "Tell him to have fun!"
"Arjun, calm down," Siddanth laughed. "I'll meet you at the Santiago Bernabéu gates at 7:00 PM. Don't get lost. Don't get arrested. Adios."
"But Sid! We don't speak Span—"
Click.
Siddanth hung up, tossing the phone onto the sofa.
"Problem?" Isabella asked.
"None at all," Siddanth grinned. "The boys are thrilled for us."
---
They hit the streets.
Isabella wasn't interested in the tourist traps. She took him to Malasaña, the hipster district.
They walked through narrow streets covered in vibrant graffiti.
"This," Isabella gestured to a mural of a flamenco dancer painted with spray cans, "is art. Not just the Prado."
They stopped at a street stall selling hats. Isabella insisted Siddanth try on a traditional Spanish sombrero cordobés (a wide-brimmed hat).
He put it on. It was too small. It sat comically high on his head.
"You look like Zorro," Isabella laughed, snapping a photo. "If Zorro had a very big head."
"It's a tactical helmet," Siddanth defended, posing dramatically with a churro as a sword. "En garde!"
A group of elderly Spanish women walked by, looking at the tall Indian man waving a churro. They giggled and waved.
Siddanth tipped the tiny hat. "Señoras."
Isabella laughed so hard she nearly dropped her bag.
---
In the late afternoon, they went to the Temple of Debod, an ancient Egyptian temple rebuilt in Madrid.
They sat on the grass as the sun began to set, turning the stone arches into silhouettes against a fiery orange sky.
It was quiet here.
Isabella rested her head on his shoulder. Siddanth wrapped his arm around her.
"It's strange," Siddanth said softly.
"What is?"
"In India, I can't do this. Sit in a park. Hold hands. There would be fifty cameras."
Isabella looked up at him. "Here, you are just Deva."
"I like just Deva," she added, kissing his jawline.
Siddanth tightened his hold. "Me too."
They sat there until the sun dipped below the horizon, watching the reflection of the temple in the water, perfectly content in the silence. It was a recharge for his soul, a moment of normalcy in a life that was becoming increasingly extraordinary.
---
7:00 PM.
The Santiago Bernabéu Stadium loomed like a spaceship in the middle of the city. The atmosphere was electric. Thousands of fans in white shirts were streaming towards the gates, chanting, blowing horns, and singing.
Siddanth and Isabella stood near Gate 44, the VIP entrance.
Siddanth spotted them.
Arjun, Sameer, and Feroz were standing near a hot dog stand, looking lost and slightly overwhelmed by the crowd. They were wearing Real Madrid scarves that looked brand new.
"Oy! Tourists!" Siddanth shouted.
The three turned around. Their eyes narrowed into mock glares.
Arjun marched up to Siddanth, arms crossed.
"You," Arjun pointed a finger. "You have abandoned your flock."
Siddanth laughed, pushing the finger away. "Chill out, drama queen. I'm here now."
He stepped aside and gestured to Isabella.
"Guys... meet Isabella."
The mock anger evaporated instantly.
Isabella stepped forward, smiling radiantly. She wore a stylish leather jacket over a white Real Madrid jersey she had bought earlier.
"Hola," she said. "I am the reason for the abandonment. I hope you can forgive me."
Arjun's jaw dropped slightly. Sameer elbowed him.
"Hi," Arjun stammered, suddenly very polite. "I'm Arjun. This is Sameer and Feroz. And... uh... we forgive him. Completely. Good job, Sid."
Isabella laughed, shaking their hands. "Deva told me you guys got lost in a museum?"
"We didn't get lost," Feroz defended. "We just... took a very long scenic route to the exit."
"For two hours," Sameer muttered.
"Come on," Siddanth said, clapping his hands. "Game time. VIP box awaits."
The Match: Real Madrid vs. Real Valladolid
They entered the stadium. The sheer scale of the Bernabéu took their breath away. The verticality of the stands, the wall of noise, the pristine green pitch.
Their seats were incredible—mid-tier, right near the halfway line, with access to the hospitality lounge.
"This is insane," Arjun whispered, looking around.
The teams walked out. Raul. Casillas. Marcelo. Xabi Alonso. Legends in the flesh.
The stadium erupted into the anthem, "Hala Madrid y nada más".
Siddanth stood up.
He didn't just clap. He sang.
"Historia que tú hiciste, historia por hacer..." he belted out, his baritone voice blending with the crowd.
Isabella looked at him, shocked. She joined in, grabbing his hand.
Arjun stared at him. "Since when do you know the anthem?"
"I told you," Siddanth shouted over the noise. "I did my homework!"
The Game
The match was a thriller.
Raul scored early. The stadium went berserk.
Siddanth grabbed Isabella and spun her around.
But Valladolid fought back. Nivaldo scored a screamer. 1-1.
The tension rose. The fans whistled.
Then, Raul again. The captain. A deft touch. 2-1.
"RAAAAULLL!" Siddanth screamed, high-fiving a random Spanish old man next to him. The old man hugged him back. "¡Vamos muchacho!"
Marcelo scored a solo goal, dancing through the defense. 3-1.
Then Higuain chipped the keeper. 4-1.
Valladolid got a late consolation goal, but it didn't matter.
Full Time: Real Madrid 4 - 2 Real Valladolid.
The final whistle blew. The stadium was a sea of waving white scarves.
Siddanth felt the adrenaline coursing through him. It wasn't the same as playing, but the collective joy of 80,000 people was infectious.
He looked at his friends. They were beaming, wearing Madrid scarves, completely swept up in the experience.
He looked at Isabella. She was flushed, eyes bright, singing along to the post-match music.
"Best night ever!" Arjun declared, hugging Feroz. "We are Madridistas now!"
---
They exited the stadium, moving slowly with the river of fans. The streets outside were a carnival. Vendors selling beer, people dancing.
"So," Arjun asked, checking his watch. "It's 10:30. The night is young. Do we hit the clubs again?"
Siddanth looked at Isabella. She looked tired but happy.
He squeezed her hand.
"I think," Siddanth said, "we are going to call it a night. It's been a long day of... sightseeing."
Arjun grinned. "Right. Sightseeing. Very exhausting."
He looked at Isabella. "It was lovely meeting you, Isabella. You have excellent taste in football. Questionable taste in men, but excellent football taste."
Isabella laughed. "He's not so bad. Take care, boys."
Siddanth turned to Isabella.
"My hotel is closer," he said softly. "The Ritz. It's nicer than the apartment."
Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Room service?"
"Whatever you want," Siddanth promised. "Champagne. Strawberries. A massage."
"You had me at champagne," she smiled.
"We're going to my hotel," Siddanth announced to the group.
"Scandalous," Sameer teased. "Go. We will find our own trouble."
They parted ways at the metro station. The boys headed towards the city center for more drinks, while Siddanth hailed a taxi for the Ritz.
---
The suite at the Ritz was luxurious, with heavy drapes and a view of the Prado museum.
Siddanth opened the door and let Isabella in.
She walked to the window, looking out at the city lights.
"Madrid looks beautiful from here," she said.
Siddanth walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"It does," he murmured. "But I'm looking at something better."
She turned in his arms, looping her hands around his neck.
"Smooth talker," she whispered.
"I mean it," Siddanth said, his voice serious. "Thank you for today. For the last two days. I haven't felt this... free, in a long time."
Isabella softened. She reached up and touched his face.
"I'm glad I could kidnap you," she said. "Even if your friends call me a traitor."
Siddanth kissed her palm.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"A little."
He picked up the room service phone.
"Champagne. The good stuff. Truffle fries. Club sandwiches. And... chocolate mousse."
He hung up.
They sat on the plush carpet, leaning against the bed, waiting for the food.
"So," Isabella asked, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "Tell me about this Australia series. Is it a big deal?"
"Huge," Siddanth said. "They are the world number one. We just beat them in the Champions Trophy, but they want revenge. They are coming to our home. Seven matches. It's going to be a war."
"And you?" she asked. "Are you ready for war?"
Siddanth's eyes shifted. The blue intensity returned for a split second.
"I'm always ready," he said. "But right now... I'm on leave."
The food arrived. They ate on the floor, laughing, feeding each other, drinking champagne from crystal flutes.
It was intimate, playful, and devoid of pretense.
Later, the lights were dimmed.
They moved to the bed.
This time, it wasn't frantic like the first night, or lazy like the morning. It was slow. Deliberate.
Siddanth memorized the curve of her hip, the sound of her breath, the scent of her perfume. He knew he was leaving soon. He knew this was a bubble that would burst the moment he stepped on the plane.
But for tonight, he pushed the world away.
He kissed her deeply, rolling over, pulling the duvet up.
"Isabella," he whispered against her skin.
"Hmm?"
"Hala Madrid," he teased.
She laughed, a low, throaty sound, and pulled him down.
"Shut up and kiss me, Deva."
And he did.
---
Should I skip all the series matches from now on and just show a few important matches?
Yes
No