Tahera, who'd been watching the game with this combo of nervous hope and "please don't let us get totally destroyed" vibes, completely lost it. She was jumping up and down like she was on a trampoline made of pure joy. Her usual "calm and collected manager" persona?
Gone. Vanished into thin air. "I SAW IT! OMG, I actually saw it!" she yelled, voice cracking with excitement. "Three in a row! Like, actually in a row! This is… this is straight-up witchcraft!" She grabbed Kiyoshi's arm and shook it so hard his teeth probably rattled. "Kiyoshi, where did you find this guy?! Seriously, spill the tea! Is he some kind of basketball angel sent from above?!"
Back on the court, Ahsan was practically assaulting James with back sps, grinning like a maniac. "James! Dude, WHAT WAS THAT?! Seriously, break it down for me! Are you secretly a robot? Did you sell your soul to the basketball gods?! How did you do that?!"
James just shrugged, like it was NBD. A small, super-confident smile flickered across his lips. "Just… shot it," he said, all casual, like sinking impossible three-pointers was as routine as brushing your teeth or scrolling through Insta. But inside? Dude was buzzing. Pure, unadulterated thrill.
He was finally showing these guys – anyone – what he could do. Finally, he was contributing, making a real difference. That feeling? Intoxicating.
Like the best energy drink ever, but without the jitters.
Sajid, the small forward, practically bounced over, eyes as wide as saucers. "Dude! That was insane! Seriously, brain-meltingly insane! You didn't even dribble, man! You just… like, yeeted it! And it went in! Thrice! In a row! Are you even human?!"
Robi, the center – usually this super quiet, stoic giant who barely cracked a smile – actually whooped with ughter. Like a genuine, booming ugh that shook his whole frame. "I have never seen anything like that in my life! At least not outside of TV" he roared, still chuckling. "This is… this is gonna be EPIC!"
Arshad, Chandan, and Rifat, the shooting guard trio, were all over James like seagulls on a dropped french fry. Mobbing him, showering him with questions and excited shouts. "Do it again! One more time! Please?!" "Seriously, how do you even do that? Is it some kind of optical illusion?" "Are you secretly a wizard in disguise?! Tell us your secrets, oh magical basketball being!"
Even Tariq, the power forward, who was known for being super serious and focused, actually smiled. Like, a real smile, not just a polite lip twitch. "Okay, James," he said, nodding slowly, impressed. "I'm officially, completely, and utterly impressed. You've got something special, man. Like, seriously, next-level special."
The Motijheel pyers? Total opposite vibe over there. They were like a before-and-after ad for "Confidence: Gone Wrong." Their initial swagger? Evaporated faster than morning mist. Repced by this heavy, stunned silence that hung in the air like a bad smell. They were frozen, rooted to the spot, like they'd been turned into basketball-pying statues.
Faces? Pale as ghosts. Eyes? Wide, vacant, filled with pure, unadulterated disbelief. All the trash talk, the taunts, the "we're gonna crush you" energy? Wiped clean. Obliterated. All it took? Three.
Perfect. Shots.
