The applause from the previous match still echoed faintly in Raj's ears, but the crowd had long gone. The cheers weren't for him. Not really. He had walked off on 49 , a single run short of a half-century. Everyone remembered the score. No one remembered the silence that followed.
Now, hours later, the cricket field was empty.The white chalk lines had faded. The benches were cold. The sun had already slipped behind the trees, leaving streaks of dull orange lights above the turf.
Raj sat on the lowest step of the dugout, elbows on his knees, staring at his gloves. They rested beside him worn, dusty, still shaped like his grip.He hadn't spoken much since the match.
Not because he was upset. Not even because of the runout.He was just thinking.
That match had changed something inside him.Not because of the score.But because of the feeling.
There was a moment during the 8th over when he'd played a cover drive so clean, so natural, that even he had felt surprised by it. It didn't feel like he was thinking or reacting.
It felt like he already knew.Like his body remembered something his mind hadn't even processed yet.He'd felt that once before in another life and now it was happening again.
By the time he reached his dorm, the sky was dark.His roommates were busy with headphones, snacks, and scrolling.They barely noticed when he entered.Raj placed his gloves carefully in his locker, then sat down at his small table.He pulled out his sketchbook.This time, he didn't draw gear.He drew a frame.A glove outline.But inside it , instead of labels and arrows , he wrote words.
"Comfort."
"Stability."
"Trust."
"Memory."
He stared at the page for a long time.
Then flipped to the next one and began designing again.The next morning, instead of going to the gym, Raj headed to the far side of the compound where an old maintenance room had been left unused for months.He unlocked it with the spare key he got from a guard who owed him a favor.
Inside was a dusty bench, two chairs, a flickering light, and a cracked window.
Perfect.
He laid out his materials: cloth, foam, two small rolls of lining tape, a half-used thread spool, and his stitching needle.He didn't bring music.No distractions.Just silence and the rhythm of his hands.
Cut.
Fold.
Thread.
Pull.
Tighten.
Repeat.
He wasn't just making another glove.He was listening to what his last glove didn't say.
Every catch. Every mistimed dive. Every small shift in grip ,he remembered it and with every stitch, he corrected it.He didn't want to make something flashier.He wanted to make something that let players forget they were even wearing it.
Three hours had passed.The stitching was halfway done when someone tapped on the door.Raj didn't even look up and said to "Come in."
It was Priya.She walked in holding a flask and a paper-wrapped snack."You're impossible," she said.Raj smiled softly, still focused on the seam.
"You haven't eaten, right?"
"Forgot."
She sighed, set the food down beside him, then sat on the broken chair."I don't get it," she said. "You scored 49. Everyone noticed. Why are you here alone stitching again?"
Raj paused and looked at her then said quietly, "Because one match won't change what I lost before.".Priya didn't speak.But she didn't leave either.That's when Raj said something he'd never said out loud."I failed before," he whispered. "I don't mean here. I mean before this life."
She shocked."What do you mean?"
He didn't answer directly.Instead, he placed the unfinished glove between them.
And said, "This time, I want to build something that doesn't fall apart when I'm not looking."
Priya didn't press the topic.She just nodded slowly.Then got up."Eat something. Then finish it.".She left without another word.But left something behind.A folded note on the snack wrapper.Raj opened it after she left.
"You're not alone this time. And you're not the same."
[System Whisper Detected – Trust Link Strengthened]
Emotional Support Anchor: Priya – Stable
Crafting Focus Boosted: +6% (Next 48 hours)
Raj picked up the glove again. The smell of thread, cloth, and sweat filled the room. The light from the cracked window hit the table in a soft line, illuminating only the top edge of the seam.His fingers moved faster now.Not because he was in a hurry.
But because he knew exactly what he wanted it to feel like.This wasn't just a better version of his glove.This was going to be the first RajCraft Elite prototype.
Designed with memory,refined through pressure and stitched in silence.As he pulled the final threads tight, he didn't notice that the door had opened again.This time, the person didn't walk in.She just stood quietly in the doorway.Watching him.
Spandana.
Her hair was tied back. Her eyes tired but focused. She wore the same light yellow shawl she'd had since the first time he saw her in this life.Raj didn't speak.Neither did she.But for the first time, she stepped into the room.And that was enough.
She walked over to the table slowly and looked at the glove.Then, softly, she touched the edge of the wrist strap.
"You didn't use double padding like last time," she said.
Raj shocked by the words.That was a detail only he remembered.From the first glove he ever stitched in his past life.He looked up at her.Eyes wide.
Spandana gave a small smile.
"You're finally building from the middle, not just the edge."Then she turned around and walked away before he could say anything.
[System Alert: Hidden Memory Thread Matched – 98%]
Spandana retains memory markers beyond timeline scope
Trust Thread Activated: Future Echo Mode – On Standby
This is not the first glove she's seen you make.
Raj sat frozen for a few minutes.Then looked down at the glove in his hand.He turned it over and in the lining, without thinking, he stitched the initials:
"SR2"
(Second Rise)
Because this glove wasn't just about comfort.It was about starting again.
By afternoon, Raj brought the glove to the testing zone.It wasn't for public use yet,just internal analysis.He handed it over to the design mentor, who looked surprised.
"You finished a new model in 24 hours?"
Raj nodded. "It's not flashy. But it's right."
The mentor rotated the glove in his hands, pressed the fingers, bent the wrist section, then placed it on a mannequin hand.He typed a few notes on his tablet, then smiled.
"Comfort index: 88%," he said.Raj raised his eyebrows. "Out of?"
"Most elite gloves in your budget range hit 75-80%."Raj said nothing.But inside, his chest lifted just a bit.
"Raj," the mentor added, "there's going to be a distributor meeting next week. Regional trainers and a few small brand scouts. Bring three samples."
Raj blinked. "Three?".
"You've got one. You'll figure out the rest."
Then he walked away.As Raj turned to leave, he saw a familiar face in the hallway.
Sandeep,
Arms folded,
Eyes cold.
And on the ground next to him?
A notebook.
One that looked exactly like Raj's old design journal.Raj narrowed his eyes.Sandeep smirked and kicked it toward the wall casually.Then walked off.Raj didn't react.But his hands clenched.
[System Thread: Rival Intrusion Detected – Passive Observation Mode Active]
Warning: Design integrity at risk
Advise: Increase prototype registration before distribution.
Raj walked back toward his room.
But halfway there, he took a turn, toward the media lab.There, he filled out a submission form for internal prototype validation.
He uploaded photos of RC-X and SR2.
Saved them in the academy record under his full name:
Pavan Raj
And next to "design purpose," he wrote:
"For players who don't want to feel fear in their fingers."
Then he clicked submit and the system hummed softly in the background.
The sun had dipped lower by the time Raj left the media lab.Evening had washed the academy in gold, turning the turf into a long shadowed canvas. Cricketers walking past him, some laughing, some too tired to care.But Raj didn't notice them.He was too focused.His footsteps felt different now,not heavier, not lighter.Just clear.
He returned to the quiet maintenance room where he'd stitched SR2 and sat down at the bench again. Not to stitch. Just to think.His hands rested flat on the table.He stared at them.The same hands that once held fear.The same hands that had failed once.
But now?
They were learning.
You didn't survive by being lucky, he thought.
You survived by building what you needed most.
A knock came at the door.This time, he didn't flinch.It was Coach Arvind.The senior coach who hadn't spoken to him much since the first trial.He walked in slowly, no clipboard, no files.Just presence.
"You're working late," the coach said.
Raj nodded. "Almost done."
Coach looked at the glove lying on the table."The reports say you designed this in under two days?"
"Yes."
"For what purpose?"
Raj paused.Then said, "So players don't feel like they have to grip harder just to believe in themselves."
Coach raised an eyebrow."That's a deep reason for a piece of cloth and foam."
Raj smiled faintly. "It's more than that."
Coach nodded slowly."I used to play, you know," he said, settling into the chair opposite Raj.Raj looked surprised.
"Not at your level," the coach added with a grin. "But enough to know that sometimes… the hand gives out before the heart does."
They both sat in silence for a few seconds.Then Coach said, "You have something most players here don't."
Raj waited.
"Purpose. You're not just playing cricket. You're building something for more than yourself."
That hit Raj harder than he expected.Coach stood up.
"You won't always get applause. But if you keep walking with your head down and your hands building, someone will notice."Then he turned to leave.At the door, he added one last thing.
"Oh, and Raj—don't be surprised if someone important calls you soon. People are asking about you."And then he left.
[System Alert: External Interest Level Rising]
Scouting Keywords Triggered: Brand Talent, Independent Product Designer, Future Investment Potential
No rewards issued yet. Threshold nearing.
Raj didn't even notice the system message.He just sat there in the warm silence, hands still.Then finally, he reached for his pen and on the inside flap of the glove, below the wrist seam, he wrote:
"Built not for protection... but for peace."
He left the room just as the evening call for dinner began.As he passed the south corridor, he noticed someone sitting on the old steps near the side nets.
Spandana.
Again.She wasn't sketching this time.She wasn't even pretending not to look.She was just sitting.Raj paused.He didn't say anything.He didn't walk over.But she stood anyway.Met his gaze.l and nodded once.Then turned and walked away in the evening light of sun.
[System Note: Spandana's Sync Memory Has Stabilized]
Emotional thread at 100% — Trigger-ready for Story Choice Event
She's no longer watching you rise. She's waiting to rise with you.
To be continued....