The following morning, the weight of the previous night's football match still loomed over the group. Despite their best efforts, they had lost, and worse—Hamza was injured.
Rudra accompanied Hamza to the university's medical center, where the doctor confirmed the diagnosis: a torn ACL.
"You'll need to stay off that leg for a while," the doctor said, scribbling notes. "Physiotherapy will help, but you're benched for at least six months. No sports, no stress on the knee. Take it seriously."
Hamza barely reacted, nodding mechanically. Rudra, however, wasn't having it.
"Six months?" Rudra ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, man."
"It is what it is," Hamza muttered, gripping the edge of the examination table.
Rudra studied his friend, noting the distant look in his eyes. "Dude, don't do that thing where you shut people out. We're here for you."
"I don't need anyone," Hamza replied curtly, adjusting the crutches given to him. "Let's just go."
...
Over the next few days, Hamza started skipping meals with the group, avoiding their messages, and barely attending classes. Even when he did, he remained quiet, unbothered by the usual chaos surrounding him.
"He's shutting down," Sneha sighed as she, Komal, and Akansha sat together in the dorm lounge.
"Not surprising," Akansha muttered. "Hamza's always had this lone-wolf thing going on. But it's worse now."
Komal frowned. "We need to do something."
"Yeah? Like what?" Siddarth leaned against the doorway. "He won't even look at us."
The group exchanged looks, frustration creeping in.
And Shumaila? She remained silent, pretending to be unaffected.
But she wasn't.
After a week, during lunch, murmurs spread across campus. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed conversations, students looking in a particular direction.
"Did you hear? Karan's back."
The group, who had just settled at their usual table, froze.
Siddarth cursed under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me."
Shumaila's grip on her fork tightened, her jaw clenching. "How?"
Before anyone could answer, Karan strolled into the cafeteria like he owned the place.
Smirking, he stopped in front of their table. "Missed me?"
Komal scoffed. "Not even a little."
"What are you doing here?" Rudra asked, clearly irritated.
Karan chuckled. "Pulled some strings. You know how it is. Figured I'd come back and make things… interesting."
His gaze landed on Hamza, who was seated with his crutches propped beside him.
Hamza didn't react immediately, simply looking up at him with a blank expression.
"Shame about your leg," Karan continued. "Guess that means you won't be getting revenge on the field. Must suck to be... useless now."
The tension at the table spiked.
Siddarth's hands curled into fists. "Say that again, and I swear—"
Before anyone could escalate things further, Hamza gripped his crutches and slowly stood up. He didn't say a word. Didn't retaliate. He just walked away.
The group watched him go, concern written all over their faces.
But one person couldn't sit still.
Shumaila exhaled sharply, got up, and followed him.
Karan watched her following Hamza and clenched his jaw.
...
Hamza had made his way to the empty stadium bleachers. He sat down, staring at the field, the place where he had once felt invincible.
Shumaila hesitated before stepping closer.
"You know, ignoring everyone won't make it easier."
Hamza scoffed, not looking at her. "And what do you care?"
She folded her arms. "I accepted Hamza, I do care."
Silence.
She sighed. "Others do too. And this moping? It's not you."
Hamza exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the crutches beside him. "You wouldn't understand."
Shumaila sat next to him, a deliberate move. "Try me."
For a moment, Hamza debated whether to say anything. Then, quietly, he admitted, "I feel useless. Everything I worked for—gone in a second. And Karan? He was right. I can't do anything now."
Shumaila studied him for a beat before speaking. "You're an idiot."
Hamza blinked. "Excuse me?"
A small smirk appeared on her lips. "But even idiots get second chances. Stop wasting yours."
She stood up, leaving him stunned and staring after her.
And for the first time in days, Hamza felt something other than frustration.