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  Part- 346:

  Farzana didn’t seem fazed. “All great men gh an ahase,” she said serenely, as if recalling some philosophical truth. “Look at him now. Strong, disciplined... He’s made me so proud.”

  Lily gave her mother a long, suspicious stare. “Okay, but seriously—*are we watg the same person here?* Because I remember him g over a spider once. A *small* spider.”

  Farzana chuckled softly. “People grow, Lily. And he’s grown into quite a handsome young man. Just look at how all those girls are ag.”

  Lily squi the se unfolding below—the girls practically f a shrio James with their giggles and dreamy sighs. She threw her hands up in disbelief.

  “This makes *no* sense. *How* is this happening? What kind of alternate universe did we step into where James—James the human disaster—is the heartthrob?”

  Farzana patted Lily’s shoulder affeately. “It’s called blossoming, dear. Some flowers just take a little loo bloom.”

  Lily rolled her eyes so hard it was a wohey didn’t get stuck. “No, this isn’t blooming. This is some kind of ic glitch.”

  Down o, James caught sight of his family in the crowd. He gave a small wave and a lopsided grin—pletely unaware of the chaos he was causing around him.

  Lily groaned, sinking further into her seat. “God help me. My brother is a *romantic i* now.”

  Farzana simply smiled, giving her son a proud nod. “You should be happy for him. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be known as the sister of the future national champion.”

  Lily shook her head, still struggling to her mind around the absurdity. “Or the sister of the guy who actally starts a fan club... and doesn’t even realize it.”

  Farzana gave her daughter a sly smile. “Either way, he’s winning.”

  The semi-final match between Banani High and Badda High had reached a critical juncture. The gym was buzzing with tension, sweat, and anticipation. Both teams were tied at 3-3, and now everythied on the final bout. Spectators held their breath, and murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd. The looming spotlight now tered on Sourov, Banani High's heavyweight.

  Sourov sat silently on the bench, ing his injured kighter with gauze. He gritted his teeth as the throbbing pain in his leg radiated upward. His heartbeat pounded in his chest like a war drum. There was no room for doubt—he had to win, no matter the cost. But the pressure was suffog, and Sourov found himself trapped in his own head.

  James, Ryan, Nabi, and Dipa hovered nearby, sensing the weight on their friend. Each tried in their own way to offer support, but Sourov’s expression remained distant—guarded, like a man preparing for battle.

  Ryan leaned in with a pyful grin. “Hey, big guy, no stress, huh? You’re the anchor. Just go out there and toss him around like a sack of potatoes.” He gave Sourov a solid sp on the back.

  Save a small ugh—one of those half-hearted ohat don’t touch the soul. “Yeah, easy for you to say,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting to dampen the mood.

  James caught the flicker of hesitation in Sourov’s eyes. He crouched down beside him, pg a hand on Sourov's shoulder. His voice was low but steady. “Look, you’re not doing this alone. No matter what happens out there, we’ve got your back.”