The house was in absolute chaos.
Vivaan zoomed through the hallway like a rocket, cricket bat in one hand, helmet hanging off his arm, and half his shirt untucked. "Bhaiyaaa! Today is the day! My biggg match!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the apartment.
On the dining table sat Reyansh, laptop open, papers stacked neatly on one side, phone glued to his ear. His sharp suit jacket was tossed carelessly over the chair, sleeves rolled up as he typed furiously.
"No, Mr. Mehta, listen carefully," Reyansh said in his clipped CEO tone. "We need those numbers by 11 a.m. sharp or the deal won't—"
"BHAAIIIYAAA! Guess how many sixes I'll hit today?!" Vivaan interrupted, swinging the bat so close to Reyansh's chair that the CEO nearly ducked mid-call.
Reyansh pinched the bridge of his nose, muting the call for a second. "Vivaan. One more stunt like that and I'll confiscate that bat before your match even starts."
Vivaan gasped dramatically. "Confiscate? Bhaiyaa, this isn't a bat, this is my Excalibur! My magic wand! My—"
Reyansh unmuted the call. "Yes, Mr. Mehta, sorry, minor… disturbance." His eyes shot daggers at his little brother, who was now balancing the helmet on his head backward.
Vivaan strutted around like a soldier. "See? Full ready. My team needs me. I'm the star player. Without me, they're zero!"
Reyansh typed another email with lightning speed, barely glancing up. "It's a children's match, Vivaan. Not the World Cup."
Vivaan froze, clutching his chest as though stabbed. "Children's match?! Bhaiyaa, excuse me—it's the Junior Premier League. Respect required!"
Reyansh raised an eyebrow. "Junior Premier League? Last week you called it 'gully cricket with uniforms.'"
Vivaan waved his hand dismissively. "That was practice. Today is official." He hopped onto the sofa, pretending to commentate: "And here comes Vivaan Sharmaaa! The crowd goes wild—wahhhhhh!" He clapped his own hands, then nearly toppled over.
Reyansh finally closed his laptop halfway, glaring. "If you break that sofa, you'll sit on the floor for a month."
Vivaan plopped down beside him, leaning on his arm. "You know what'll actually break? My heart. Because my dearest bhaiyaa is not even coming to cheer me."
Reyansh smirked faintly, going back to typing. "Cheering is unnecessary. Just don't embarrass yourself in front of your teammates."
Vivaan made a face. "Embarrass? Bhaiyaa, please. I'm going to hit fours and sixes. I'll become man of the match, and when I get the trophy, I'll say—" He puffed out his chest and put on a fake serious voice, imitating Reyansh. "All credit goes to my ruthless CEO brother who was too busy with spreadsheets to watch me bat."
Reyansh actually chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
Vivaan grinned, mission accomplished. He jumped up, grabbed his kit bag, and yelled dramatically, "When I return with victory, remember this day, Bhaiyaa!"
The front door slammed as Vivaan dashed out, leaving Reyansh staring at his half-finished email.
At the match, Vivaan was unstoppable. He ran like a whirlwind between the wickets, smashed the ball far enough to make the opposing team gasp, and even his captain clapped him on the back. By the end of the game, Vivaan had practically carried his team to victory. He was on cloud nine.
"YES! WE WON!" Vivaan shouted, pumping his fists, cheeks flushed with excitement. But in his celebration, he didn't notice the time slipping away like a sneaky bowler.
By the time he was done talking to teammates, signing autographs (well, in the little league way), and giving post-match interviews to his friends' phones, it was already late. He checked his watch.
9:47 PM.
"Oh… shoot!" Vivaan muttered. He had promised Reyansh he'd be home by 8 PM maximum. The rules were strict: no excuses.
He dialed Reyansh's number nervously. The first call went straight to voicemail. Then the second. Then the third.
Vivaan froze. His heart thumped like a bass drum. 44 missed calls.
"Forty-four?!" he whispered, his voice shaking. It was like Reyansh had turned into some kind of ghostly enforcer, haunting him through his phone.
Vivaan wanted to run home, but the street was dark, and walking fast only made his sweaty cricket uniform stick uncomfortably to his body. His victory felt hollow now. Winning the match didn't matter if Reyansh's wrath awaited at home. He paced under the streetlight, trying to think of a clever excuse, anything to calm himself.
"Maybe… maybe I can say we celebrated at the field… and it got late… yeah, that sounds smart… no, not smart enough… he'll know."
Every ding of his phone made him jump. He peered at the screen, flinching every time it lit up. His mind raced with all the scenarios: stern lectures, dessert cancellation, possibly grounding… maybe even no cricket for a month and punishment.
Finally, he sank onto a bench at the park, head in his hands, heart pounding. The match's euphoria was gone, replaced by dread. He had never seen Reyansh this… relentless. Rules are rules, Reyansh always said. And Vivaan knew, deep down, rules didn't bend for cricket victories.
Vivaan stared at the dark sky, trying to calm down, but every thought twisted into horror:
"He's probably making a list… 44 points of punishment… maybe 45 if he's still mad… I shouldn't have stayed… maybe I should've left the ball behind… maybe… maybe…"
He didn't move. He didn't call back. He just sat there, under the dim park lights, imagining Reyansh's ghostly silhouette standing with arms crossed, fuming quietly at his disobedience. The night stretched long and heavy. He thought about the victory, the thrill of the match, but all that joy was overshadowed by the growing panic in his chest.
And so, Vivaan stayed out, frozen in thought, watching the streetlights flicker… too scared to go home, too scared to call, and wondering what awaited him when he finally did.
Vivaan scrolled up and looked at the 44 missed calls again. His throat went dry.
"Bhaiya ka dialogue pakka aisa hoga—'Vivaan, rules aren't suggestions, they're LAW.' Haan, law… aur main kya hoon? Criminal? Toh jail bhi hogi kya? Cricket jail?"
He chuckled nervously at his own imagination—Reyansh wearing a black judge's gown, slamming a cricket bat like a hammer:
"ORDER! ORDER! Vivaan Sharma, you are sentenced to one month without cricket!"
Vivaan's smile faded instantly. His stomach dropped.
"Nahi yaar… one month without cricket matlab toh mera marna hi hai."
Then another thought struck him. What if Reyansh, in his usual CEO-tone, gave him the icy stare and said:
"Winning the match doesn't excuse breaking the rule, Vivaan. Do you think the world bends for your excitement?"
Vivaan gulped. "Arre, duniya toh nahi bend karti, par mai toh bowler ki ball bend karke maar deta hoon… uske liye bhi punishment milega kya?"
He let out a small laugh, but immediately shivered.
"Bas… bas sochna band kar Vivaan. Pehle se hi Bhaiya ka chehra dikh raha hai hawa mein. Abhi agar ek dog bhi bhauka toh mujhe lagega Reyansh ne inspector bharke bheja hai mujhe pakadne."
His brain flipped between humour and horror like a switch.
"Shayad Bhaiya bolega—'Vivaan, you've disappointed me.' Bas… wahi sentence mujhe maar daalega. Kyunki jab Bhaiya disappointed kehta hai na, uske peeche full horror background music bajta hai. Kya pata dhoondhne aa jaye yahan bhi…"
Vivaan pressed his phone to his chest and whispered:
"Cricket jeetne se accha hota main out hi ho jaata… at least team ke log bacha lete… ab Bhaiya se kaun bachayega?"
Back at home, Reyansh's head was practically boiling. He hadn't even touched his dinner, his mind consumed by Vivaan's defiance. Every second that ticked by made his anger grow, sharp and unpredictable, like a storm ready to break. He tried to control himself, took a deep breath, told himself rules are rules, but even he didn't know how much fury he would unleash when Vivaan finally walked through that door…
Outside, Vivaan had no idea. And somehow, that made the night feel even darker.
.....
next chapter reyansh anger
"That's it for this chapter! 😄 I hope you enjoyed Vivaan's chaos and Reyansh's patience. Do comment your thoughts—suggestions, feedback, or even fun title ideas are most welcome. Your support motivates me to write more!"