Ishaan Rathore

Cricket. The game that defines me. The game I was born for. Everyone thinks they know who I am—what I am. The hero, the perfectionist, the guy who never misses a shot. But what they don’t see is the man behind the bat. The one who fights with his own expectations. The one who wonders if he can ever be more than just a cricketer.

The stadium is buzzing, the crowd is roaring, but all I can think about is the screen in my hand. Another game won, another match under my belt, and yet... something doesn’t feel right.

The headlines? Predictable. "Ishaan Rathore: The King of the Pitch." "Cricket’s Golden Boy." "The Batsman Who Can Do No Wrong."

But none of them mention what really goes on in my head. None of them talk about the constant pressure, the need to always be perfect, the fear of failure.

I scroll through my social media, my eyes automatically moving to the latest post.

"The Grumpy Cricketer Who Needs a Rewrite."

I narrow my eyes. A fanfiction blog? Seriously?

I feel a knot form in my stomach. The title itself feels like a slap to the face. I click on it anyway.

The words hit me like a series of bouncers. It’s a complete mockery. The writer—whoever they are—has taken my persona and twisted it into something unrecognizable. A diva. An arrogant, self-obsessed joke.

I can’t take it.

"Yeh kahan se nikal aayi? (Where did this come from?)" I mutter under my breath, staring at the screen in disbelief. "Kaun hai yeh jo mujh par likh raha hai aise?" (Who is writing about me like this?)

I’m furious. No one gets to rewrite my story. Not like this.

Tanvi Desai

I’m sitting in my favorite café, sipping my caramel latte. The usual crowd around me is oblivious to my world, I hear the soft click of my laptop keys as I finish typing the latest chapter of my fanfiction. The world around me fades into the background—just me, my story, and the characters I’ve created.

I hear the familiar ping. Somebody mentioned my post. Curious, I clicked on it.

It’s a tweet, linking to my blog.

The tweet reads:
"Grumpy cricketer turned into a fanfiction villain. Read about him in 'The Grumpy Cricketer Who Needs a Rewrite. Someone's rewritten my story. And it's not good. Guess I'll be reading this one myself. #GrumpyCricketer #NotAMockery."

I hadn’t realized my little story was getting this kind of attention.

But then, I noticed something. The name attached to the tweet: Ishaan Rathore. I almost choke on my latte. I blink in disbelief. I never thought he’d see my post. Never thought it would make its way to him. But now…. 

The same cricketer whose games I’ve watched religiously, whose every move I’ve analyzed and who I wrote in my fanfictions about. It seems I’ve made quite an impact.

“Kya yeh sach hai? (Is this really happening?)” I whisper to myself in disbelief.

A few hours later, I got a message. It’s from none other than Ishaan Rathore himself.

"Rewrite my story. Or else."

I laugh nervously, unsure if this is a joke or the start of something else. Either way, I’m in for one wild ride.