Chapter 4 : Meeting A Legend

Chapter 4

Another four years had passed, and now Advay was seven years old. He sat beside Aditi, who was now fourteen, as their car—a sleek, chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce Phantom, befitting the heirs of a business empire—glided smoothly through the streets of Bengaluru.

As the Rolls-Royce Phantom cruised through the streets of Bengaluru, Advay stretched his legs, swinging them slightly since they still didn't quite reach the car floor.

Aditi, lounging beside him, gave him a side glance before smirking. "So, Mr. Genius, how does it feel to be a seven-year-old in seventh grade?"

Advay scrunched up his nose. "Weird. Everyone's so tall."

Aditi laughed. "Well, duh. You're a tiny first-grader hanging out with middle schoolers."

"I'm not tiny!" he protested, crossing his arms.

Aditi patted his head like he was a puppy. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, shorty."

Advay swatted her hand away. "You're only tall 'cause you're old."

Aditi gasped dramatically. "Excuse me?! Old? I am fourteen."

"That's old," he said with a straight face.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Then what does that make Papa?"

Advay thought for a moment before grinning. "Ancient."

Aditi burst out laughing. "Oh, I so have to tell him you said that."

Advay pouted. "Don't. He'll start with that whole 'Back in my day…' stuff."

Aditi smirked. "Too late. I'm totally telling him."

Advay huffed and turned to look out the window, but he was smiling.

Aditi nudged him with her elbow. "Hey, why didn't you just skip all the way to tenth with me? We could've been in the same class."

He made a face. "And have a bunch of grown-up kids staring at me like I'm a zoo animal? No thanks."

She snickered. "Fair. But seventh grade? You still stick out."

Advay shrugged. "It's not that bad. Better than pretending I don't know anything."

"Hmm." Aditi tapped her chin. "Yeah, you'd probably explode if you had to act dumb all the time."

Advay nodded seriously. "Exactly."

Aditi shook her head, ruffling his hair just to annoy him. "You're such a nerd."

"Takes one to know one," he shot back.

She gasped. "Rude."

Before she could retaliate, the car smoothly pulled up to Stonehill International School. Stonehill International School was not just any school—it was one of the best in the world, a prestigious institution where the children of billionaires, diplomats, and royalty studied. It wasn't just a school; it was a place where future leaders, innovators, and moguls were shaped.

The massive campus sprawled across lush greenery, boasting state-of-the-art facilities, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, world-class sports arenas, and even a private lake nestled within its grounds. The architecture was a seamless blend of modern innovation and nature, with glass-walled buildings that let in natural light and sprawling gardens filled with vibrant flowers from around the world.

Most of the students here weren't even from India. They came from all corners of the world, representing some of the most powerful families on the planet. English, French, Russian, Mandarin—you could hear a dozen different languages being spoken in the hallways at any given time.

It was the school of the elite, a place where connections were just as important as knowledge. And Advay Rai, at just seven years old, was walking straight into it, standing out in more ways than one.

The school day went by as usual—classes, a bit of casual chatter with classmates, and the occasional curious glance thrown his way because of his age. Nothing too exciting.

That evening, however, instead of the usual driver, his father, Arjun Rai, came to pick him up. It wasn't unheard of, but it was rare enough for Advay to take notice.

As he slid into the car, he looked up at his father, who was casually scrolling through his phone. Unlike other CEOs who were constantly drowning in work, Arjun always made time for his family. Over the years, Advay had realized something—his father wasn't like most high-powered businessmen.

Most CEOs he had read about in his past life barely saw their families, working absurd hours and dedicating their entire lives to their companies. But Arjun? He had built Rai Group from the ground up into a multi-million-dollar conglomerate, yet he still managed to come home early most days. He had a work-life balance that most people in his position could only dream of.

It wasn't because he was lazy—far from it. He was just incredibly efficient. He knew when to push, when to delegate, and most importantly, when to step back and enjoy life.

Advay respected that.

As the car smoothly pulled out of the school gates, Arjun finally put his phone down and glanced at him. "So, how was school?"

Advay shrugged. "Same as always."

Arjun smirked. "Let me guess—too easy?"

Advay grinned. "A little."

His father chuckled, ruffling his hair. "We'll find ways to keep that brain of yours entertained, don't worry."

Arjun leaned back against the plush leather seat, watching his son with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "So, Advay… what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Advay didn't hesitate. "A cricketer. And a businessman."

His father raised an eyebrow, amused. "Both?"

Advay nodded confidently. "Yeah."

Arjun chuckled. "Interesting choice. Why cricket?"

There was genuine curiosity in his tone, but Advay could tell—his father wasn't just asking for the sake of it. He was actually happy.

Arjun loved cricket. He was a die-hard fan of the Indian team, someone who never missed a match and could recite decades' worth of cricket history without skipping a beat. Hearing his son express interest in the sport? It was probably the best thing he'd heard all day.

Advay shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I always wanted to play. But…" He hesitated for a split second before continuing, "I never really got the chance before."

Arjun didn't push, but there was an understanding in his gaze. "Well, you've got all the chances in the world now."

Advay nodded, determined.

His father tapped his fingers against the armrest. "And business? Planning to take over Rai Group?"

Advay shook his head. "Nope. I'll build my own."

That made Arjun pause. Then, he laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Of course you will." He looked out the window thoughtfully before glancing back at his son. "That's a bold plan, Advay."

Advay grinned. "You did it. Why can't I?"

Arjun smirked. "You've got a point there." He ruffled his son's hair, eyes filled with pride. "Alright then, a cricketer and a businessman. Let's see how that turns out."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, shifting between cricket, business, and playful teasing. And as the car continued down the road, Advay couldn't help but feel it again—he really had hit the jackpot in this life.

The next day February 25 ,2007.

The kitchen was alive with the comforting sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic clatter of utensils. A warm, rich aroma of spices lingered in the air, wrapping the space in an invisible embrace. The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow on the marble countertops.

Advay stood on a small wooden stool, sleeves rolled up as he eagerly watched his mother cook. Ilana moved with effortless grace, her hands skilled and precise as she prepared breakfast. Despite the mansion being run by a team of maids and housekeepers, she had never let anyone else take over the kitchen. Cooking, for her, was more than a chore—it was something she loved.

Advay frowned slightly as he mixed the batter she had given him, his small hands moving the spoon in slow, careful circles. "Mama, why do you always cook when we have so many people who can do it for you?"

Ilana turned to look at him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Because cooking isn't just about making food, moya lyubov (my love)." She flipped the dosa with a flick of her wrist. "It's about care. About love."

Advay blinked, glancing down at the bowl in his hands. "Love?"

She nodded, taking a moment to adjust the flame. "When I cook for you, Aditi, or even your father, I'm not just making food. I'm making sure you're happy, that you feel at home." She turned to face him fully, tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. "Do you know how I felt when I first moved to India?"

Advay shook his head, his curiosity piqued.

Ilana leaned against the counter, her eyes distant for a moment as if recalling an old memory. "It was strange at first. A new place, a new language, a new life. Everything felt unfamiliar." She smiled, eyes twinkling. "But when I started cooking, it felt like home. The smell of food, the warmth of the kitchen—it was the one thing that made me feel connected."

Advay listened intently, absorbing her words. He understood that feeling. In his past life, he had never experienced a home-cooked meal filled with warmth. Food had always been a necessity, never something to cherish.

Ilana tapped his nose lightly. "That's why I cook, Advay. Because it makes a house feel like a home."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding. "I think I get it."

She smiled, turning back to her pan. "Good. Now, finish mixing that batter properly, or else the dosa will taste like regret."

Advay wiped his hands on a small towel after finishing up in the kitchen. The lingering scent of spices clung to his fingers as he made his way to the living room, his bare feet barely making a sound against the cool marble floor.

As he entered, he saw his father and Aditi sitting on the large velvet sofa, engaged in an animated conversation. Aditi, as always, was full of energy, her brown eyes shining with excitement as she waved her hands around. His father, Arjun, leaned back with an amused smile, occasionally nodding as he listened to her enthusiastic rambling.

"…I'm telling you, Papa, that shot was pure luck! There's no way he meant to place it that perfectly!" Aditi declared, arms crossed.

Arjun chuckled. "Aditi, that wasn't luck. That was skill. You don't just edge a ball between slip and gully by accident."

Aditi huffed, shaking her head. "Still, it wasn't as good as the cover drive in the 42nd over. That was perfect technique."

Arjun nodded approvingly. "That was textbook, I'll admit. But you can't ignore how well he played under pressure. A good cricketer knows how to take advantage of every situation."

Advay settled onto the sofa beside them, listening quietly. He didn't interrupt—he just enjoyed watching them argue. It was nice, this kind of normal family moment.

Aditi noticed him and turned to him with a grin. "What do you think, Advay? Luck or skill?"

Advay shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't watch the match."

Arjun set his cup down on the table and leaned slightly toward Advay. His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable hint of amusement in his eyes. "So… you'll be meeting Gavaskar tomorrow."

Advay, who had been lazily lounging on the sofa, froze. His mind blanked for a second before he turned to his father, eyes wide. "Wait… what?"

His father let out a small chuckle at his reaction.

Advay quickly sat up straight, his heart suddenly picking up speed. "Wait, wait—hold on. Why would he be coming to meet me?" His voice had a slight edge of disbelief, as if he was trying to confirm he hadn't misheard anything.

Arjun leaned back, completely relaxed, as he picked up his cup again. "Because I'm friends with him." He said it so nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Advay just stared at him, stunned. "You're friends with Sunil Gavaskar?" He repeated the words slowly, as if saying them aloud would help him make sense of them.

His father smirked. "We've known each other for a while now. Met through common events, played a few rounds of golf together, attended the same charity functions. He's a good man." He took a sip of his tea before adding casually, "And he's quite interested in meeting you."

Advay's brain struggled to keep up. He had just been mixing dosa batter an hour ago, and now his father was casually telling him he was about to meet a literal legend.

His thoughts raced. Why would Gavaskar—one of the greatest cricketers in history—want to meet him? He was just a seven-year-old kid! Sure, he had an SSS-rank talent for cricket according to his system, but it wasn't like he had displayed anything extraordinary yet.

"…Why?" He finally asked, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Advay was still trying to process the fact that his father casually knew Sunil Gavaskar when Arjun continued, his tone as relaxed as ever.

"I just asked him if he wanted to teach you cricket," he said, swirling his tea before taking another sip. "He's always mentioned that he gets bored and doesn't have much to do after retirement."

Advay's mouth went dry. His father made it sound like he had just asked a neighbor to babysit.

Arjun glanced at his son's stunned expression and smirked. "He told me he'd be happy to coach you—if you had talent."

Advay felt like he had momentarily lost the ability to think. Gavaskar. Coaching. Him.

His heart pounded. He had dreamed of playing cricket in his past life but never got the chance. Now, not only did he have the talent for it, but he was about to be coached by a legend.

He swallowed, trying to act normal. "And… when exactly am I supposed to show this talent?"

Arjun chuckled. "Tomorrow."