The T20I series against Australia concluded with a swift exchange of momentum. Australia bounced back to win the second match in Bengaluru, utilizing the short boundaries effectively to level the series. However, India responded with clinical precision in the third and final match in Visakhapatnam. The Indian batting lineup fired collectively, securing a convincing victory and a 2–1 series win. Siddanth anchored the middle order and provided crucial breakthroughs with the ball, ensuring the visitors never found a comfortable rhythm.
The format seamlessly transitioned to the fifty-over game, with the first One Day International taking place at the Nexus Smart Stadium in Hyderabad. India secured a comfortable victory in front of the massive home crowd. Siddanth controlled the pace of the match entirely, scoring a flawless century in the first innings and returning to take four crucial wickets during the Australian chase, rightfully earning the Player of the Match award. As the post-match presentation concluded, he formally requested a single day of leave from the team management. Tomorrow was the twins' first birthday. The request was approved, allowing him to stay behind while the rest of the Indian squad traveled to Nagpur for practice. He would rejoin them on the fourth of March.
Match Statistics - Siddanth Deva
T20I 2 (Bengaluru)
Runs: 42*
Wickets: 1/20
T20I 3 (Visakhapatnam)
Runs: 68*
Wickets: 2/24
ODI 1 (Hyderabad)
Runs: 115*
Wickets: 4/42
Leaving the stadium corridors behind, Siddanth walked into the designated VIP parking area. The roar of the dispersing crowd still echoed faintly from the upper tiers of the concrete structure. He opened the rear door of the armored SUV, tossed his heavy kitbag onto the opposite seat, and climbed inside.
The vehicle pulled out of the stadium gates, merging into the late-night traffic of the city. Siddanth leaned his head back against the leather headrest, watching the streetlights of Hyderabad flash past the tinted window. The noise of the cricket pitch slowly faded from his mind. He watched the glowing storefronts and the bustling night markets give way to the quieter, tree-lined highways leading toward the outskirts. The transition was familiar and necessary.
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The late afternoon sun cast long, gentle shadows across the manicured lawns of the Shamshabad estate.
Preparations for the birthday had begun quietly early in the morning, managed by the estate staff. There were no towering structures, no massive concert speakers, and no extravagant displays of wealth. The family had agreed on a tasteful, elegant outdoor garden celebration.
Soft pastel colors dominated the visual landscape. Delicate arches woven with pale pink, white, and soft yellow balloons framed the entrance to the main lawn. Fresh floral arrangements of lilies and white roses rested on low, wooden tables scattered across the grass. A small, beautifully decorated stage stood near the edge of the patio, intended simply for the cake cutting and family photographs. A designated children's play area featured soft foam mats, small wooden slides, and a mountain of plush toys.
Near the corner of the garden, a small group of musicians sat on a raised platform, playing classical melodies on a veena and a flute. The live instrumental music provided a warm, peaceful background hum to the gathering.
Since the twins were only turning one, the celebration was primarily an occasion for the extended family to gather.
Vehicles began arriving steadily through the main iron gates.
Subba Rao, Suma, and Anjali stepped out of their car, carrying several brightly wrapped gift bags. Vikram Deva and Sesikala walked down the porch steps to greet them, exchanging warm hugs and traditional greetings. Cousins, aunts, and uncles from both sides of the family trickled onto the lawn, finding seats on the comfortable garden chairs and catching up over cups of fresh filter coffee and light snacks.
Inside the house, the guests of honor were unaware of the occasion.
Rishi was currently standing near the edge of the living room sofa. Wearing a miniature, soft linen button-down shirt and comfortable trousers, he gripped the fabric of the sofa tightly with both hands. He concentrated intensely, navigating his balance. Letting go with one hand, he took a shaky, unsteady step forward along the edge of the furniture. He paused, looked down at his feet, and took another small step.
Aadhya was focused on the ceiling. Dressed in a pale yellow pastel frock, she sat in the middle of the carpet, pointing her tiny finger at a helium balloon that had drifted away from the decorators and bumped against the ceiling fan. She let out a soft, curious babble, clapping her hands together twice when the balloon shifted slightly in the air current.
Siddanth walked into the living room, wearing a simple white shirt and dark jeans.
Hearing his footsteps, Aadhya immediately abandoned the balloon. She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled rapidly across the carpet. Rishi also stopped his walking practice, dropping back down to the floor and following his sister toward the doorway.
Siddanth knelt on the rug, opening his arms.
Aadhya reached him first, practically climbing his leg to be picked up. Rishi arrived a second later, grabbing the sleeve of Siddanth's shirt. Scooping them both up effortlessly, Siddanth stood, settling one child securely in each arm. Aadhya immediately reached for the collar of his shirt, while Rishi rested his head comfortably against his father's shoulder, looking around the room.
Krithika walked down the stairs, adjusting the drape of her light peach-colored saree. She smiled at the sight of her husband balancing both babies.
"They are ready," Krithika noted, picking up a small, dropped toy from the floor. "The guests are all waiting outside."
"Let's go say hello," Siddanth said.
They walked out through the back doors and stepped onto the lawn.
The moment they appeared, the relatives immediately turned their attention to the twins. Aunts and cousins walked over quickly, forming a tight circle around them. They offered loud, enthusiastic greetings, reaching out to pinch the babies' cheeks and shake their tiny hands.
The sudden influx of loud voices and unfamiliar faces overwhelmed the children. Aadhya's lower lip began to tremble. She turned her face away from an approaching aunt and buried it directly into Siddanth's neck, letting out a cry. Rishi gripped Siddanth's shirt tighter, his dark eyes wide and wary, clearly uncomfortable with the crowd.
"Give them a little space, please," Siddanth requested politely but firmly, stepping back slightly to break the tight circle.
The relatives stepped back, smiling apologetically.
Siddanth gently bouncing his arms in a slow, rhythmic motion. "It is alright," he murmured quietly near her ear. "Just people. You are fine."
Within moments, the solid, grounding presence of their father calmed them down. Aadhya stopped crying, peeking cautiously over his shoulder, while Rishi relaxed his grip.
Krithika took Rishi from his arms, allowing the relatives to greet the babies from a more comfortable distance.
Sameer, Feroz, and Arjun arrived shortly after, walking across the lawn.
Sameer immediately stepped up to Krithika, making a series of highly exaggerated, funny faces to get Rishi to laugh. Rishi simply stared at Sameer with seriousness, unimpressed by the comedic effort.
"Tough crowd," Sameer sighed, dropping the funny face. "He definitely inherited his father's sense of humor."
"He just recognizes foolishness," Siddanth joked, walking over.
Feroz handed Krithika a neatly wrapped box. "Happy birthday to the little ones. Nothing loud or noisy. Just some cartoon books and wooden puzzles."
"Thank you, Feroz," Krithika smiled, handing the box to a nearby staff member. "That is exactly what we need. Half the relatives brought electronic toys that make terrible noises. I am hiding them tomorrow."
Arjun offered his congratulations, patting Siddanth on the back. The friends simply stood near the food counters, watching the families interact.
As the afternoon progressed, Siddanth placed the twins down in the designated play area.
They immediately crawled toward a mountain of plush blocks. Ronny wandered over from the porch. The large dog lay down gently right on the edge of the foam mat, acting as a silent guardian.
Aadhya crawled over to the dog. She reached out and grabbed a handful of Ronny's golden ear, pulling it slightly. Ronny did not flinch or move away. He simply let out a long, tolerant sigh, resting his chin on his paws and allowing the baby girl to inspect his fur.
Siddanth sat cross-legged on the foam mat. He watched them play, occasionally stacking a few blocks for Rishi to knock down.
A few relatives took out their phones, snapping countless photos of the World Cup captain sitting on the ground, absorbed in building tiny block towers and fixing the small paper birthday hats that kept slipping off the babies' heads. He wiped a small drool from Aadhya's chin with a napkin and laughed when Rishi tried to climb over his knee. There was no media presence, no interviews, and no pressure. It was just a father enjoying a rare, uninterrupted afternoon with his children.
By six o'clock, the sun began to dip below the horizon. The estate staff turned on the ambient lighting. Strings of warm, golden fairy lights illuminated the trees and the stage area, casting a beautiful, soft glow over the garden.
"It is time for the cake," Sesikala announced, walking over to the play area.
The guests gathered around the small decorated stage. A professional photographer adjusted his lenses, moving quietly around the edges of the crowd to capture the natural moments.
A large, beautifully crafted two-tier cake was wheeled out on a table. It was decorated in soft pastel colors, featuring small fondant animals and a single, unlit candle on the top tier.
Siddanth carried Rishi, and Krithika carried Aadhya. They walked up the short steps to the stage and stood behind the cake table.
Vikram stepped forward and lit the single candle.
The twins stared at the cake. They did not understand the concept of a birthday, but the bright colors and the flickering flame immediately captured their full attention. Aadhya reached her hand out toward the light, babbling excitedly.
The entire family began to sing the traditional birthday song. The live musicians played a gentle accompanying tune.
Siddanth held Rishi's small hand, guiding it toward the plastic knife resting on the table. Krithika held Aadhya's hand. Together, the four of them pressed down on the knife, slicing through the bottom tier of the cake.
The family cheered and clapped loudly. Aadhya immediately started clapping her own hands, mimicking the crowd, a toothless smile breaking across her face.
Krithika picked up a tiny piece of the cake and gently offered a taste to Aadhya.
Aadhya decided the spoon was unnecessary. She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of the soft, blue icing directly from the side of the cake. She smeared it across her mouth and cheek, looking incredibly pleased with the sweet taste.
Rishi watched his sister. He reached out, grabbed his own small handful of cake, and immediately turned his body, attempting to offer the messy handful directly to Ronny, who was sitting near the bottom of the stage.
"No, Rishi," Suma laughed, stepping forward quickly to intercept the boy's hand before he could feed the dog. "Ronny cannot eat cake."
Siddanth chuckled, pulling a napkin from the table. He spent the next five minutes carefully wiping blue and pink icing off their faces, hands, and clothes. The photographer captured every messy, chaotic second of the interaction.
Standing near the front row of the audience, Subba Rao and Vikram watched their grandchildren. Subba Rao wiped a silent tear from the corner of his eye. Seeing the children turn one, surrounded by so much warmth and stability, brought a wave of emotional gratitude to the grandfathers. They did not make a scene; they simply shared a knowing, silent nod of appreciation.
Following the cake cutting, the catering staff opened the dinner buffet. The menu featured a rich, authentic spread of traditional Telugu cuisine, alongside a few milder dishes specifically prepared for the younger children in attendance.
The guests filled their plates and naturally splintered into small, comfortable groups across the sprawling lawn.
Near the floral arches, Krithika's uncles stood in a circle, eating hot rice and discussing recent events.
"Did you watch the Oscar ceremony on television?" one uncle asked, taking a bite of potato curry. "The animation was spectacular. I always thought cartoons were just for kids."
"It is changing," Subba Rao noted from his chair. "When they showed the lead animators walking up to the stage, you could see how much it meant to the industry. The visual quality of that film raised the standard for everything."
"Prabhas looked very happy in the audience," another relative added. "And Sushant delivered a very elegant speech. He handled the international stage beautifully."
"Siddanth did a phenomenal job putting that team together," the uncle agreed. "He stays in the background, but his vision is clear."
Siddanth walked past the group, holding a plate of food. He offered a polite smile, acknowledging their words, but did not stop to discuss the film's success. He walked over to where Krithika was sitting with her friends Riya and Kavya and sat down on the grass nearby.
Anjali stood near the main entrance archway. She was organizing a large stack of intricately designed, heavy wooden boxes. These were the traditional Tamboolam return gifts meant for the departing guests. The boxes contained coconuts, betel leaves, and small silver coins.
She picked up a stack of three boxes, struggling slightly to balance the heavy wood in her arms as she tried to walk toward the distribution table.
Arjun happened to be walking past the entrance, holding a glass of water. He noticed the awkward balance.
Without saying a word Arjun stepped into her path. He reached out and smoothly lifted the top two boxes off her stack, transferring the weight to his own arms.
Anjali paused, letting out a small breath of relief as the heavy load vanished. "Thank you. Those are much heavier than they look."
"I know," Arjun replied casually, adjusting his grip on the polished wood. "I'll carry these to the table."
They walked side by side toward the designated area.
"How is the new software patch for the gaming division?" Arjun asked. "I saw the server load report yesterday."
"We pushed the patch live on Tuesday," Anjali answered, setting her remaining box down on the table. She brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "It has been a very hectic week managing the backend physics updates, but the user feedback has been rewarding. We stabilized the frame rates."
"Good work," Arjun noted, setting his boxes down neatly next to hers. "The stability improves the user retention."
"Thank you," she smiled lightly.
They stood near the table for a brief moment as the photographer walked past, organizing a large group of cousins for a wide shot. Arjun made a dry, quiet observation about the photographer demanding too many forced poses. Anjali let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in agreement.
A moment later, Sameer called Arjun's name from across the lawn. Arjun offered a brief nod to Anjali and walked away to join his friend. Anjali turned back to organizing the gift tags.
As the night deepened, the guests gradually began to take their leave.
They collected their return gifts, offered their final blessings to the twins, and walked out to their waiting cars. The loud chatter faded, leaving only the soft hum of the instrumental music playing from the speakers.
Subba Rao Suma, and Anjali hugged Krithika, promising to visit again soon, and drove back toward the city.
By 10:30 PM, the estate was finally quiet.
The grandparents had already carried the exhausted, sleeping twins upstairs to their nursery, laying them gently into their cribs after a long, overwhelming day of attention and sugar.
The catering staff cleared the remaining plates and retreated to the kitchens.
Siddanth and Krithika did not go inside immediately. They walked over to the wooden chairs arranged on the patio. The decorative fairy lights remained illuminated in the garden, casting a warm, peaceful glow over the empty lawn.
They sat down next to each other. The silence of the estate settled comfortably around them.
Krithika leaned her head back against the chair. She looked out at the floral arches swaying slightly in the night breeze.
"It feels like yesterday we brought them home from the hospital," Krithika said softly, her voice carrying a trace of quiet wonder. "And now they are trying to walk."
Siddanth looked at the empty play area on the grass. He thought about the rapid passage of time.
"They grow fast," Siddanth agreed quietly, resting his hand on the armrest.
"It was a good day," she murmured, closing her eyes. "They enjoyed the cake."
"They enjoyed wearing the cake," Siddanth corrected her with a faint smile.
They sat in peaceful silence for another twenty minutes, simply absorbing the tranquility of their home. There were no deep, emotional declarations. The quiet companionship was enough. Eventually, the cool air pushed them inside, and they retired to their bedroom for the night.
The sky was still pitch black when the alarm went off at 5:30 AM.
Siddanth moved efficiently. He showered, dressed in his dark blue Indian team travel gear, and walked into the closet. His heavy suitcase and his customized cricket kitbag were already packed and resting near the bedroom door.
He walked quietly down the hallway and pushed the door to the nursery open.
The room was silent. He stepped up to the cribs. Rishi was sleeping on his stomach, his face turned to the side. Aadhya was sprawled on her back, her small arm thrown over her plush toy.
Siddanth leaned down over the wooden rails. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Rishi's head, and then gently kissed Aadhya's cheek. He did not wake them.
He picked up his bags and walked down the stairs.
Krithika was waiting near the front entrance.
Siddanth set his bags near the door. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.
"I'll call every day," Siddanth promised, kissing the top of her head.
"Focus on the matches," Krithika replied softly, hugging him back. "We will be fine here."
He stepped back, picked up his bags, and opened the front door.
Driver was standing next to the waiting car in the driveway. The engine was already running.
Siddanth walked down the porch steps. He got into the back seat and closed the door. The vehicle moved smoothly down the gravel path, the headlights cutting through the pre-dawn darkness. The iron gates slowly opened, allowing the car to merge onto the empty highway.
His one day at home had passed in the blink of an eye.
Ahead waited another massive challenge. The Australian series continued. The intensity of international cricket demanded his full attention. His teammates were already waiting in Nagpur.
It was time for the captain to return.