The Cricket Widow
"Fatima's husband is obsessed with cricket, leaving her alone every weekend. When his handsome teammate Amir starts showing her attention, she discovers what it feels like to be someone's priority."
The Cricket Widow
"Your husband missed your anniversary."
Fatima looked up from her lonely champagne. Amir—her husband Wasim's teammate—stood at the club bar, watching her with unexpected concern.
"Match ran late."
"The match was over two hours ago. He's in the pub with the team." Amir sat beside her. "I noticed you weren't there."
"I never am."
"That's wrong." His voice was soft. "You deserve better."
The conversations continued—at matches, at gatherings, in moments when Wasim was too cricket-obsessed to notice.
"Why don't you leave him?" Amir asked one evening.
"It's not that simple. Family expectations. Sixteen years invested. The hope that he'll change." She laughed bitterly. "The usual reasons."
"He won't change." Amir took her hand. "I've known him since uni. Cricket is his real marriage."
"And what would you know about real marriages?"
"Nothing." His eyes held hers. "But I know what I'd do if you were mine."
They didn't plan it.
A cricket tournament away match. Wasim stayed for the afterparty; Amir offered to drive Fatima home.
They didn't make it home.
In his car, on a dark road, sixteen years of neglect exploded.
"I can't," she gasped, even as she kissed him.
"Then stop me." He didn't stop kissing her. "Tell me to stop."
"I can't do that either."
They found a hotel.
Amir touched her like she mattered—every caress deliberate, every kiss meaningful. He made love to her like she was precious, not an afterthought.
"Meri jaan," he breathed, moving inside her. "You're everything he doesn't see."
"This is wrong."
"This is the first right thing in your marriage." He thrust deeper. "Let me show you what you deserve."
She came apart crying—pleasure and grief and relief combined.
"I have to leave him," Fatima said afterward.
"Yes."
"This isn't just about you. It's about... not disappearing anymore."
"I know." Amir held her close. "But I'll be here. When you're ready. If you want me."
"I do." She kissed him. "I want everything."
The divorce was quiet. Wasim barely noticed—cricket season was starting.
Amir waited until the papers were signed to take her on a proper first date.
They married on a day with no cricket.
She was never invisible again.