Kulfi, Chemistry, and Championship Dreams

The sun had barely set over Nawabganj when Arjun's phone buzzed for the seventh time that evening.

Rhea Kapoor — the name flashed again, her impatience practically vibrating through the screen.

Rhea: "Oye! Selection ka result bata raha hai ya Lucknow ki history likh raha hai?"

(Oye! Are you telling me the selection result or writing Lucknow's history?)

Arjun grinned, leaning back against the rooftop wall, still in his practice gear, a cricket ball spinning lazily in his fingers.

Arjun: "Result free mein nahi milega. Ek kulfi date ka advance dena padega."

(The result won't come for free. You'll have to pay in advance — one kulfi date.)

The reply was instant.

Rhea: "Blackmail? Kitna cheap hai tu."

(Blackmail? You're so cheap.)

Arjun: "Talent mehenga hai, attitude free milta hai."

(Talent is expensive, attitude comes free.)

Before she could text back, Arjun added:

"8 baje. Purana Chowk wali famous kulfi dukaan. Tere exclusive interview ke saath result milega."

(8 PM. At the famous kulfi shop in Purana Chowk. You'll get the result along with your exclusive interview.)

Purana Chowk — The Date That Wasn't a Date (But Definitely Was)

Rhea was already there when Arjun arrived — leaning against a pillar, wearing a breezy white kurti, her Lucknow University jhola bag slung casually across her shoulder, notebook peeking out like always. Even in the crowd, she stood out — part journalist, part mystery, fully herself.

"Late hai, Mr. Future Captain."

(You're late, Mr. Future Captain.)

Arjun, in his usual faded tee and cricket shorts, flashed that crooked grin. "Star players ka entry thoda dramatic hota hai."

(Star players always make dramatic entries.)

Rhea rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. They ordered two kesar pista kulfis, the kind served in leaf cups that melted faster than teenage crushes.

The Big Reveal

Rhea leaned in, serious reporter mode activated. "Ab bata bhi de. Selected or not?"

Arjun took a slow bite of his kulfi, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pehle ek sawaal."

(First, a question.)

Rhea sighed. "Kya?"

(What?)

"Tu sach mein itni interested hai selection mein ya bas mere saath kulfi khane ka bahana chahiye tha?"

(Are you really this interested in my selection or did you just need an excuse to have kulfi with me?)

Rhea's jaw dropped. "You're impossible!"

Arjun grinned wider. "Aur selected bhi."

(And selected too.)

For a second, Rhea just stared — and then she whacked his arm with her notebook. "Tu pagal hai. Pura drama king!"

(You're mad. Total drama king!)

"Drama nahi, entertainment hai. Free mein mil raha hai, shukr kar."

(It's not drama, it's entertainment. You're getting it for free — be grateful.)

But behind the banter, Rhea's eyes shone with real pride. She'd followed his story from that first gully match to this very moment — and now, her article was writing itself in her head:

"From Nawabganj's Rooftops to District's Dressing Room — The Arjun Mishra Story."

Future Talk — Real and Flirty

Rhea stirred her kulfi with the tiny wooden spoon. "Ab kya plan hai? District ka match kal hai. Nervous ho ya apni usual Nawabganj overconfidence mein?"

(What's the plan now? District match is tomorrow. Nervous or your usual Nawabganj overconfidence?)

Arjun leaned back, licking the last of his kulfi. "Nervousness aur main? Humara toh janam se talaq ho gaya."

(Nervousness and me? We divorced at birth.)

Rhea shook her head. "Kabhi kabhi serious bhi ho jaaya kar."

(Sometimes, you should be serious too.)

Arjun's grin softened. "Serious toh hoon, bas dikhata nahi. Kal ka match sirf game nahi hai — woh pehla kadam hai."

(I am serious, I just don't show it. Tomorrow's match isn't just a game — it's the first step.)

Rhea watched him quietly, realizing this was the first time he'd dropped the mask, even for a second. But before the moment could stretch too long, Arjun leaned in, mischief back in place.

"Waise, kal match ke baad dinner plan bana le. Celebration ya heartbreak — dono mein tu zaroori hai."

(By the way, make dinner plans after tomorrow's match. Whether it's celebration or heartbreak — you're necessary for both.)

Rhea raised a brow. "Tu sure hai? Agar haar gaya toh pura Lucknow tujhe troll karega."

(You sure? If you lose, all of Lucknow will troll you.)

Arjun winked. "Lucknow toh karega. Par tu nahi karegi — kyunki tujhe pata hai, haarun ya jeetun, Nawabganj ka Sultan toh main hi rahunga."

(Lucknow will, sure. But you won't — because you know, win or lose, I'll still be the Sultan of Nawabganj.)

Rhea shook her head, biting back her smile. "Bas Sultan banne ke chakkar mein gadha mat ban jaana."

(Just don't turn into a fool while trying to be a king.)

Arjun stood up, tossing his empty leaf cup into the bin. "Tension mat le. Kal Sultan ke saath Lucknow ki sabse cool journalist ko bhi star banake rahunga."

(Don't worry. Tomorrow, I'll make Lucknow's coolest journalist a star too.)

"Kaise?"

(How?)

"Exclusive post-match interview. Bas tujhe smile karte hue selfie leni hogi — caption: Sultan and his Official Biographer."

(Exclusive post-match interview. All you have to do is take a smiling selfie — caption: Sultan and his Official Biographer.)

Rhea groaned, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "Pagal hai tu."

(You're mad.)

"Pagal nahi, passionate."

(Not mad, passionate.)

As Arjun walked off, bat slung over his shoulder, Rhea shook her head — but she couldn't stop smiling.

📊 Sania System Update:

"Relationship Progress — Rhea Kapoor: +5 (Reporter to Almost-Date)."

The next day, Arjun would face his first District match, but tonight? Tonight was for kulfi, flirting, and dreams that tasted like sweet pistachio and melted ambition.