Score: India 358/4.
Target: 359.
The stadium was vibrating with the aftershocks of Deva's unbeaten 179. The music blared, vendors screamed, and in the North Stand, Row A, a very specific drama was unfolding.
Krithika slumped into her VIP seat, chugging a bottle of water. Her face was flushed, her voice hoarse, and her mood swinging violently between ecstasy and fury.
"179 runs," she wheezed. "He scored 179 runs. He hit a six that landed at my feet. And he still hasn't looked at me. Not once."
"Maybe he's shy," her sister Anjali suggested, though she sounded unconvinced.
"Shy?" Riya scoffed. "Did you see him do the Calma? Did you see him wink at the camera? The guy loves attention. He just... doesn't want yours."
"It's the sign," Kavya nodded sagely. "It's too desperate. 'Marry Me Deva'? It scares them off. You should have written 'Good Batting Deva'. That's classy."
"I am not changing the sign!" Krithika snapped, unrolling the chart paper again. "I spent three hours painting this neon glitter. He will see it. He will acknowledge it. Even if I have to throw it on the pitch."
The second innings began. Alastair Cook and Craig Kieswetter walked out. They had a mountain to climb, but the pitch was still a road.
Praveen Kumar opened the bowling for India.
The English openers weren't going down without a fight. They raced to 60/0 in 8 overs. The crowd noise dipped slightly. The fear of a record chase began to creep in.
"We need a wicket," MS Dhoni muttered behind the stumps. He tossed the ball to Ravichandran Ashwin.
Over 9: Ashwin to Cook.
Cook tried to cut a ball that skidded on.
Bowled.
WICKET (Cook 28).
The crowd roared. The DJ played Chak De India.
Jonathan Trott walked in. He and Kieswetter stabilized the ship. They rotated the strike, playing the spinners well. The score moved to 110/1 in 20 overs.
India needed magic. Dhoni looked around the field. He looked at Siddanth Deva.
"Deep Mid-Wicket," Dhoni signaled. "Go patrol the fence. We need speed there."
Deva nodded. He jogged from the inner ring towards the boundary.
Towards the North Stand.
Deva reached his position. He was standing right in front of Row A. The barricade was barely five meters away.
He could hear them. He could hear her.
"OH MY GOD! HE'S HERE!"
"Krithi! Wake up! Your husband is here!"
Deva stood with his hands on his hips, staring intently at the pitch. He adjusted his cap. He didn't turn around.
"DEVA! OYE DEVA!"
It was Krithika. Her voice was unmistakable. It cut through the ambient noise like a knife.
"Turn around, you arrogant statue!" she screamed. "I am right here!"
Deva felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from smiling. Keep looking forward, Sid. Don't break character.
"He's ignoring you," Riya laughed loudly. "He's literally pretending he's deaf."
"I know he can hear me!" Krithika yelled. "He has ears! Deva! Look at the sign! Look at the effort!"
She waved the MARRY ME DEVA board so hard it nearly hit a policeman.
Deva shifted his weight to his left leg. He stretched his arms. He scratched his nose. He did everything except turn his head.
Ball 22.3: Trott swept Jadeja hard.
The ball rocketed towards deep mid-wicket.
It was racing to the boundary, right where Krithika was standing.
Deva moved.
He exploded from his stance. He sprinted to his left. The ground blurred beneath his feet.
He dived full length. He slid across the turf, his body parallel to the rope.
He stopped the ball inches from the cushion.
He picked it up and threw it back to the keeper in one fluid motion. A rocket throw that landed in Dhoni's gloves on the full.
The crowd erupted in applause for the save.
Deva stood up, brushing the grass off his knees. He was now five feet away from her. He could smell her perfume mixed with the popcorn.
"DEVA! GREAT SAVE!" she yelled, leaning dangerously over the railing. "NOW LOOK AT ME! PLEASE!"
Deva adjusted his sunglasses.
He looked to his right at the East Stand. He waved.
He looked to his left at the West Stand. He waved.
He looked straight ahead at the pitch.
He did not look at the North Stand.
"Are you kidding me?" Krithika shrieked, throwing her hands up. "He waved at the empty seats! He waved at the ghosts! He hates me! What did I do? Is my face painted wrong?"
"He's playing hard to get," Kavya giggled.
"He's playing impossible to get!" Krithika groaned, slumping back into her seat, defeated. She threw the sign on the floor. "I give up. I officially hate him. Siddarth was right. He is a show-off. He thinks he is god."
"At least he saves runs," Rohan said, eating a samosa. "Unlike you, who is wasting breath."
"Shut up," she hissed, pulling out her phone. "I'm going to text Siddarth. At least he replies. Even if he is boring."
Deva ran back to his position as the over ended.
The fielding stint was over. Dhoni called him to bowl.
Over 30: England 165/1. They were cruising. Kieswetter was on 80.
India needed a miracle.
Over 32: Siddanth Deva to Pietersen
(KP had joined after Kieswetter fell to a run-out).
31.1: Deva ran in. 145 kmph.
KP tried to drive. Beaten for pace.
Dot.
31.2: Deva went round the wicket. He bowled a cutter.
KP didn't pick it. He checked his shot.
The ball popped up to cover.
The Catch: Virat Kohli dived forward.
WICKET (Pietersen 42).
Commentary (Gavaskar): "The Golden Arm! He comes on and strikes immediately! KP is gone! The danger man departs!"
Over 34: Deva to Bell
33.4: Deva bowled a yorker.
Bell dug it out.
33.5: Bouncer.
Bell hooked. Top edge.
Fine leg took the catch.
WICKET (Bell 35).
Over 36: Deva to Ravi Bopara
35.2: Deva bowled a slower ball. Knuckleball.
Bopara didn't read it. He swung early.
Clean bowled. The off stump cartwheeled.
WICKET (Bopara 8).
Deva's Figures: 5-0-28-3.
He had broken the back of the English batting. The crowd at Uppal was chanting his name. Even Krithika, despite her anger, was on her feet clapping. You couldn't hate perfection.
The tail couldn't handle the pressure. Ravindra Jadeja cleaned up the lower order with 3 wickets of his own.
England All Out: 232.
(Overs: 40.2).
India Won by 126 runs.
Post-Match Presentation:
Ravi Shastri: "A comprehensive victory! And no prizes for guessing the Man of the Match. 179 not out. 3 wickets. Siddanth Deva!"
Deva walked up to the podium. The crowd roared.
Shastri: "Sid, a masterclass today. 179 runs. You missed the double century by 21 runs. Disappointed?"
Deva: "Not at all, Ravi bhai. I am happy with the win. The crowd was amazing today."
Shastri: "You seem to enjoy playing in Hyderabad. The crowd certainly loves you."
Deva: "It's home," Deva smiled. "The support here is incredible. When you hear them chanting, you find energy you didn't know you had. This win is for them."
Shastri congratulated him and handed over the trophy. Deva waved to the stands, rejoined his team, and celebrated.
---
Siddanth Deva held the Man of the Match trophy, feeling the cool metal against his palm. He had done the interviews, he had thanked the crowd, but his evening wasn't over. He had one final play to execute.
He walked down the podium steps. Instead of turning left towards the dressing room tunnel where the rest of the team was heading, he turned right.
Towards the North Stand.
The crowd in that section, realizing the hero of the hour was heading their way, surged forward against the barricades. The roar was deafening. "DEVA! DEVA!"
Deva jogged lightly, his spikes crunching on the turf. He scanned the front row. He saw them.
Krithika was standing there, looking exhausted and slightly dejected, her neon sign rolled up in her hand. Her friends—Riya, Kavya, and her sister Anjali—were busy taking photos with the empty field as a background.
Deva slowed to a walk as he approached the boundary rope. He saw Krithika look up. Her eyes went wide. She grabbed Riya's arm.
He stopped ten feet away. He smiled. It wasn't the polite, media-trained smile of a cricketer. It was the smirk. The specific, teasing smirk he had worn when he beat her at Air Hockey in the arcade.
He walked right up to the barricade. The security guards moved to intercept, but Deva waved them off.
"Hi," Deva said. His voice, deep and real, cut through the ambient noise for the girls standing frozen in the front row.
Riya and Kavya screamed. It was a high-pitched sound only capable of being produced by college students meeting their idol.
"Deva! Oh my god! Deva!" Anjali gasped, clutching her face.
Deva nodded at them politely. "Hello. Nice to meet you. I heard you wanted autographs?"
"Yes! Yes please!" Riya fumbled for a marker, her hands shaking.
Deva signed their caps. Then, he turned his attention to the girl in Indian jersey who hadn't said a word.
Krithika was staring at him in daze.
Deva extended his hand over the railing.
"Thank you for the support," Deva said, his voice dropping a register, becoming softer. "And for the sign. It was... memorable."
Krithika looked at his hand. Slowly, as if in a trance, she lifted her own hand. Deva took it. His grip was warm and firm.
He didn't just shake it. In a move that would be replayed on news channels for the next week, he bowed his head slightly and pressed a gentle, fleeting kiss to her knuckles.
The crowd went nuclear. Riya looked like she might faint.
Deva straightened up. He locked eyes with Krithika. He leaned in, just an inch closer, so only she could hear.
"I hope I'm not acting too arrogant and prideful right now," Deva whispered.
He winked.
Then he let go of her hand, turned around, and jogged away towards the tunnel, leaving a trail of absolute chaos in his wake.
Krithika stood there. Her hand was tingling where his lips had touched it. The noise of her friends screaming in delight sounded like it was coming from underwater.
Arrogant and prideful.
The words echoed in her skull. They bounced around, hitting memories.
Siddarth Reddy. The boy with the mask.
The expensive watch. The fake "first copy."
The cricket knowledge. "He bowls bouncers for intimidation."
"He is very arrogant and does a lot of show off."
"Wait wait, maybe he was in a bad mood."
She looked at her phone. She opened the chat with 'Siddarth'.
Me:You were right. He is arrogant.
She looked at the tunnel where Deva had vanished. The stride. The shoulders. The way he tilted his head.
It hit her like a physical blow. The air left her lungs.
"Oh my god," she whispered. Her knees felt weak. She gripped the railing.
"Krithi! Did you see that?!" Anjali was shaking her. "He kissed your hand! The Siddanth Deva kissed your hand! You are never washing that hand again!"
"It's him," Krithika murmured, her eyes wide with horror.
"What?" Riya asked, too busy checking the photo she had managed to click.
"Nothing," Krithika said quickly, shoving her phone into her pocket. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. I called him a loser. I kicked his chair. I made him buy me movie tickets. I told him he has a chipmunk face.
She felt a wave of heat rush up her neck. It wasn't love; it was pure, unadulterated mortification.
"Let's go," she said, turning around. "We need to go home."
"Are you mad?" Kavya grabbed her. "We have the All-Access passes! Your friend gave them to us! We can go to the VIP Lounge! The players will be there!"
"No," Krithika shook her head violently. "I can't. I'm... sick. I have a headache."
"You were fine five minutes ago!" Anjali argued. "We are not missing this. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Come on!"
They didn't give her a choice. Riya and Kavya grabbed an arm each and dragged her towards the VIP exit. Krithika went limp, letting herself be pulled, her mind racing with ways to escape, to emigrate, to change her name and move to a different continent.
---
The VIP Lounge of the Rajiv Gandhi International Stadium was a world away from the humid stands. It was air-conditioned, smelling of lavender and money. Waiters circulated with trays of soft drinks. Local politicians, Tollywood actors, and sponsors were milling about.
Krithika tried to hide behind a large potted plant near the entrance.
"Stop acting weird," Anjali hissed, pulling her out. "Stand here. They will come out any minute."
The door to the dressing room corridor opened.
A hush fell over the room. The champions walked in.
Ishant Sharma, towering over everyone, laughing. Ajinkya Rahane, holding a drink. Suresh Raina, smiling at everyone.
And then, Siddanth Deva.
He had changed into the team training kit—dark blue t-shirt and shorts. He looked relaxed, commanding. He scanned the room.
His eyes landed on the group of four girls standing near the buffet table.
He smiled. It was the same smile he had given her at the arcade before destroying her at Tekken.
He started walking towards them.
"He's coming here!" Kavya squealed, smoothing her hair. "Act normal! Act normal!"
Krithika tried to shrink. She ducked behind Riya's shoulder, using her friend as a human shield. Maybe he won't see me. Maybe he'll think I left.
Deva stopped right in front of them. Riya, Kavya, and Anjali were practically vibrating.
"Hello again," Deva said.
"Hi Deva sir!" Riya managed to say. "We met at the boundary... big fans... can we... autograph? Photo?"
She held out a digital camera and a marker.
Deva took the marker. He twirled it in his fingers. "Of course. Photos, autographs, anything you want."
He looked over Riya's shoulder. He saw the top of Krithika's head.
" But first," Deva said, his voice laced with mischief. "I think you are hiding someone back there."
The friends looked confused. They stepped aside.
Krithika was exposed. She was staring at her shoes as if they were the most interesting things in the universe.
"Hello, partner," Deva said softly.
Krithika slowly looked up. Her face was burning. She met his eyes. He wasn't wearing sunglasses. He wasn't wearing a mask. It was just him. The face she had seen on billboards, on TV, and unknowingly, across a water cooler for three weeks.
"Deva... sir," she squeaked.
"Sir?" Deva raised an eyebrow. "Since when am I 'Sir'? Last week I was 'Chipmunk'. And 'Loser'. And 'Fake Watch Guy'."
Her friends gasped. Anjali looked from Deva to Krithika, mouth open.
"Sorry," Krithika whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I didn't know."
"Didn't know?" Deva stepped closer, crossing his arms. The playful glint in his eyes danced. "So, what are you sorry for, exactly? For kicking my chair in the exam hall? For making me buy you juice while I was hiding my face? Or for telling me that I hold the bat like a broom?"
The silence in the group was deafening. Riya's camera was lowered. Kavya looked like she had stopped breathing.
"I..." Krithika stammered. "The exams... I was stressed."
"You threatened to break my shin if I didn't show the answers," Deva reminded her, enjoying this way too much. "You blackmailed a World Cup winner into passing Cost Accounting."
"I didn't know it was you!" she pleaded, finding a bit of her spark. "You were wearing a mask! You said you had wisdom tooth surgery!"
"And you believed it," Deva laughed. "You even tried ot check up on my swelling. That was sweet, actually."
He looked at her friends, who were staring at Krithika with a mixture of shock and awe.
"Your friend here," Deva told them, pointing at Krithika. "Is a tyrant. She bullied me to show the answer paper in the exam hall."
Krithika wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She looked around. People were staring.
Deva wasn't done. He leaned in again.
"And then there was the text," he mused. "What did you say? 'He has anger issues'? Talking about Virat?"
Krithika's eyes widened in panic. "No. No, I didn't mean it."
"Oh, I think you did," Deva grinned. "You said he always looks angry. Resting face, right?"
He turned his head towards the buffet table where Virat Kohli was piling pasta onto a plate.
"VIRAT!" Deva shouted.
Krithika lunged.
Panic overrode protocol. She stepped forward and slammed her hand over Deva's mouth.
"Shut up!" she hissed violently. "Don't you dare! Stop it!"
The room went silent.
A fan had just silenced the Man of the Match. Physically.
Deva's eyes laughed above her hand. He didn't move it. He just stood there, letting her hold his mouth shut, raising his eyebrows as if to say, 'See? Tyrant.'
Virat Kohli heard his name. He turned around, fork in hand. He saw Deva being gagged by a girl.
Virat walked over, looking confused. "You called, Sid?"
Krithika snatched her hand back as if she had touched fire. She stood at attention, terrified.
"Virat," Deva said, rubbing his jaw, grinning. "Just wanted to introduce you. This is Krithika. She is a huge fan of yours."
Virat looked at Krithika. She looked like she was about to cry.
"Big fan?" Virat asked skeptically.
"Huge," Deva nodded. "She talks about you all the time. Specifically about your... smile. She loves how calm and happy you always look."
Virat blinked. "Really? Most people say I look like I want to kill someone."
"Not her," Deva lied. "She thinks you are a teddy bear."
Virat shrugged, flattered. "Thanks. Nice to meet you."
"T-thank you," Krithika whispered, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"Anything else?" Virat asked Deva.
"No, that's it. Enjoy the pasta."
Virat walked away.
Deva turned back to Krithika. She was breathing hard, her face a shade of red that matched the cricket ball.
"You are evil," she whispered. "Pure evil."
"I am the Devil," Deva reminded her. "It's in the name."
He looked at her friends, who were still paralyzed.
"So," Deva smiled charmingly at Riya and Kavya. "Photos? Autographs?"
"Both," Riya managed to choke out. "Please."
Deva spent the next five minutes being the perfect gentleman. He took selfies. He signed their tickets.
Then, the Team Manager called out. "Bus leaving in 10 minutes!"
Deva adjusted his towel. He looked at Krithika one last time.
"I have to go," he said.
"Go," she said, looking at her feet.
"Hey," Deva said.
She looked up.
"Be in touch," he said.
He winked. "See you around, Headache."
He turned and walked away, joining the team.
The four girls walked out of the stadium in silence. They reached the parking lot. Riya sat on her bike.
"Okay," Riya said, turning to Krithika. "Explain. Now."
"Yeah," Anjali crossed her arms. "What was that? 'Partner'? 'Exam hall'? 'Headache'? Since when do you know Siddanth Deva?"
Krithika leaned against her Scooty. She put her head in her hands. She started laughing. It was a hysterical, slightly manic laugh.
"I didn't know him," she gasped. "I knew Siddarth."
"Who is Siddarth?" Kavya asked.
"Siddarth Reddy," Krithika explained, wiping tears from her eyes. "The guy who sat in front of me during the exams. The guy who wore a mask because of 'wisdom tooth surgery'. The guy I bullied into showing me answers."
"Wait," Anjali's eyes went wide. "The guy with the fake watch? The guy you forced to buy juice?"
"Yes!" Krithika cried. "It was him! It was Deva the whole time! I kicked Siddanth Deva's chair! I made the Player of the Tournament buy me a 20-rupee Mosambi juice! I took him to watch a bad horror movie at Prasads!"
There was a moment of stunned silence as the information processed.
Then, Riya exploded.
"YOU WENT ON A DATE WITH DEVA?!"
"It wasn't a date!" Krithika defended. "I thought he was a broke student! I paid for the popcorn!"
Kavya started laughing. She laughed so hard she fell off her bike. "You... you paid... for Deva's popcorn? He earns 11 Crores per season in IPL!"
"I didn't know!" Krithika screamed, her face burning. "I told him he had bad taste in watches! It was a real Tag Heuer! He called it a first copy!"
Anjali was clutching her stomach, wheezing. "You called the Indian Vice-Captain a 'Mama's Boy'? To his face?"
"He said he drank turmeric milk!" Krithika shouted. "What was I supposed to think?"
Passersby were staring at the group of girls who were losing their minds in the parking lot.
"Oh my god," Riya wiped her eyes. "This is the greatest story ever. You accidentally dated a superstar and bullied him. And he liked it."
"He didn't like it," Krithika muttered, putting on her helmet to hide her face. "He was mocking me. Did you see his face? He enjoyed every second of my misery."
"Of course he did," Anjali grinned. "He kept the secret for months just for this moment. That's... actually kind of cute."
"It's not cute," Krithika revved her engine, her face still flaming red. "It's diabolical."
She zoomed out of the parking lot, the laughter of her friends trailing behind her.
As she drove through the Hyderabad traffic, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled over to the side.