In the Way

Every evening, after college, I’d rush home, slip into my jersey, grab my bat, and head straight to the ground. The rhythm of leather on bat, the cheers of my friends. It was all routine.

But what became part of that routine was her.
Anvi.

She walked by the path next to the ground almost every day same time, same gentle steps, the same flutter of her shawl in the evening breeze. I knew her from back in school, but we’d never really talked. Just familiar faces from a distant memory.

At first, I thought it was coincidence. But then… it started to feel like something more. She always showed up when we played. Not before. Not after. Right in the middle of the match. And I started noticing things subtle things. Like how her pace slowed down when I was batting. Or how, when I hit a boundary and my friends yelled, she’d smile just a little without turning her head.

I was sure she glanced at me once just briefly but it was enough to keep me up that night, playing it over in my head.

By the fourth or fifth day, I had convinced myself that she walked that path… for me. It sounds silly now, I know. But in that moment, it felt real. So real that I started wearing my better shirts under my jersey. Switched my fielding side to be closer to the road. And whenever she passed, I’d stand a little straighter, speak a little louder, smile a little more.

No one else seemed to notice. But to me, her every step near that ground felt like a message. Like she was trying to say something without speaking.

And so, on the eighth day, I finally decided to say something.

She was just about to walk by when I stepped forward, heart hammering. “Hey… Anvi, right?”

She stopped, a little surprised. “Hi… Satish?”

“I just…. uh….. I’ve seen you walking by a lot lately,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought maybe… you were here to see someone?”

She smiled soft and genuine.

“Yeah, actually. My boyfriend lives two blocks ahead,” she said casually, pointing beyond the ground. “I visit him after tuition.”

I smiled back. Or at least, I tried to. “Oh… right. That makes sense.”

She nodded politely and walked on, her steps just as calm and steady as always. Nothing had changed for her.

But for me…
Everything did.

That day, I still played cricket. I still laughed with my friends.
But inside, something was quiet.
Not because I had lost her.
…but because I had imagined her to be mine before she ever was.