Part- 372:
As they walked off the mat together, the reality of their loss settled in. But in that moment, Dipa realized something vital: this was a shared jourhe defeat might have stung, but the support of her teammates was a remihat their strength y in unity, and that together, they could rise above any challenge.
“ime,” she vowed silently, “I’ll show them what I’m capable of.”
The team may have lost the championship, but the bond they had fed was strohan any trophy. In the end, it was that e, that shared experience of fighting together, that would carry them forward—together, they would rise again.
After the tour, the team gathered in the **reception area** to collect their **silver medals**. The shiny awards hung around their necks like heavy reminders of their hard-fought battle. Though they had fought valiantly, the bitter taste of defeat still lingered in the air like smoke after a fire, ging to their spirits and casting shadows oriumphs. They had e so close, yet the sweet victory they had dreamed of slipped through their fingers like sand.
**Jel**, however, stood apart from the rest, his frustration palpable. His defeat at the hands of James had left him seething, a storm brewing behind his eyes. He had been fident, believing he could outmaneuver James, but the reality of the match had shattered his expectations. The humiliation g him, and he couldn’t let it go. As the two teams mingled, he watched James from a distance, his jaw tightening with every passing moment.
As the teams stood together, exging polite nods and forced smiles, Jel leaned in close to James. His voice was low, dripping with pt. “ime,” he hissed, a menag edge slig through the atmosphere, “I’ll destroy you.”
James remained unfazed, his expression as unyielding as stone. **His eyes grew cold**, radiating an eerie calm that made even Jel hesitate. It was as if he was staring into the depths of a frozen ke, uling and deep. “ime,” James replied softly, his tone almost dispassionate, “make sure you’re ready.”
The tension crackled between them like electricity, the air thick with unspoken threats and unresolved rivalries. Jel’s scowl deepened, frustration evident iwitch of his lips, but he said nothing more. Instead, he turned sharply, stomping off with his team, his anger palpable in every step.
Ohe teams dispersed, the Banani High team retreated to the **medical wing**. The room was dimly lit, the aic smell mingling with the soft hum of fluorest lights. There, they found **Sourov** sitting on the edge of a medical cot, his knee bandaged and propped up. Regret was etched all over his face, his brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, gripping his kightly as if it could anchor him against the tide of guilt that threateo overwhelm him.
“If I had been there,” Sourov muttered, his voice heavy with guilt, “we would’ve won. I know it.” His words hung in the air, thick with sorrow. The weight of his absence felt like an anching dowire team.
