Page 17 of Game on, Love

The freeing feeling of just being me. Just Oliver.

The one I often got when I was locked in, standing in front of the striker’s end and seeing the bowler running in.

The feeling was so peaceful, so addictive, and sounique.

I wasn’t sure what it was with her that made me feel this way. I only knew that I liked it.

6

Raina

THE SOUND OF ENGINESrevved low in the background, the steady hum settled into my bones, and the feeling of comfort ran through me. Even though the heat in Singapore clung to everything and made it humid, sticky and relentless—like the night air that was almost suffocating, it was the first time in days I had felt at ease.

As I sat by in the hospitality tent, trying to catch a minute before the drivers finished their last practice session for the day, my mind couldn’t help but go over the chaos of the last few days.

Moving in with Vedant may have felt like a lifeline in the moment, but once we reached the house, his body language suggested he was all but happy.

It took me until the next morning to realise the true reason why. I wanted to blame him, I really did, but he helped me when I was a minute away from breaking down when we both knew I didn’t need it.

Each time I wanted to ask why he had done it or why he was suddenly pushing us to fix whatever mess we had created, I hesitated.

A part of me wanted to learn the truth, but there was a tiny voice in my head that said not to. That somehow, there was a reality where we would end up breaking each other more than what we already had.

That terrified me more than anything.

The past couple of years, I had done so much to rebuild myself, done so much to protect myself. But living in their house had done more than just bring up the hurt I still carried, it brought a part of me that I kept hidden, the part that wasn’t tiedto my work or my life. Being near them, when they didn’t much care for the things that were connected to our old life, it felt like I was drowning in a place I was once raised to survive in.

It wasn’t like I was ashamed of it or afraid of what people would think of me and judge me for my choices—I simply wanted no part of it.

The world saw me asjustRaina, the woman who built a name for herself through hard work; every opportunity I had, every milestone I accomplished, it was all me.

Not Raina Patel, daughter of the cricket legend Vikram Patel or Raina Patel, granddaughter of the diamond mogul Rohan Singhania. They were two different worlds, both influential in their own ways, but neither were part of something I had built. I was born into it.

Even though some of my fondest memories of my childhood were the ones built in my grandparent’s house and their world of diamonds, now it was just a reminder of the people I had lost over the years.

On the days when Ma and Nani used to go for Ma’s treatment sessions, I’d always end up tagging along with Nanu to his office. It became this little routine; them to the hospital, me to the world of diamonds. It was always a bittersweet feeling, and Nanu’s office was like a whole different universe to me. Quiet, but always buzzing with something important. He used to let me sit in his big leather chair, pretending I was in charge while he worked, and sometimes, if the day was going well, he’d sneak me chocolates from his drawer.

He had this way of making everything seem like magic, even on the days when it hurt to go with him.

After Ma passed away, earlier than any of us expected, even with her condition—it changed everything. Nanu’s urge to show Dev, who was the ‘rightful heir’ to his kingdom beforehepassed, turned into an ultimatum rather than a choice.

Dev fit in the world of diamonds like it was crafted for him. Growing up, when Vedant and Rihaan had shown a proper interest in building a career in sports, Dev was the one who invested all of his time making sure he was ready to takeover the business the next chance he got. So, when his visits to India became frequent and longer, I knew better than to think it wasjustabout learning the ropes. It was also about keeping an eye on me.

I was sixteen when Ma passed.

We had been living in India for almost three years by then, and I’d been right in the middle of a crucial school year and after that, I’d still decided to stay back in Delhi and finish school. It wasn’t the plan, but honestly, after what went down at Ma’s funeral, it wasn’t exactly like I had a choice.

My Nanu saw first-hand what losing Ma had done to me, and he’d been so patient with me in a way Dad never was. But, I still remember the day when I overheard them like it was yesterday. Nanu started with the idea of me staying back with them and moving back once I felt ready and before he could make an argument. Dad responded, “She’s settled here. Let her be.”

That was that.

It had stung—more than I wanted to admit. His tone was clipped as if ticking off a box on his list of things he needed to do before flying back to London. I often wondered if he was relieved, almost like he knew that Iknewwhat he did and that he didn’t have to face me, even if it meant abandoning me.

I stayed in Delhi, right until I finished my schooling. After losing the three most important people in my life in the span of three years, I had no reason to stay. Ma had always said that London had a spark to it, the kind that made you feel like you were not alone. There was always a buzz, strangers from different parts of the world travelled for work and fun, someone was always in a hurry and if you noticed something was alwayshappening around you. Yet, there was not a single ounce of judgement.

But before Nanu passed, he left me one last final gift—while Dev still held the majority of the shares and would go on to be the CEO, he left me a lifelong stake in the business. Enough to live comfortably,morethan comfortably, if I chose to. But that wasn’t the gift—he gave me independence. So, when I moved back to the UK, I decided to stay in London instead of moving closer to the place I once called home.

The financial security allowed me to make choices that were only for me. No permissions needed, no strings attached. I chose where I lived, what I studied and, more importantly, who I wanted to be. There was a constant reminder of the price I had to pay to get that luxury, so now, I lived off what I made, from the work I did, from the brand I had built on my own terms. The money was still there, sure, but it wasn’t necessary. It was just a quiet safety net that I never spoke about, let alone used.