Part-299

  As the meal wound down, Coach Gin leaned ba his chair, watg his team with a satisfied smile. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this is what makes a good team. It’s not just about how you fight o. It’s about how you support each other off it.”

  The team fell silent for a moment, abs the weight of his words. It was a simple se, but it resonated deeply with each of them.

  “We’ve got this,” Zia said quietly, breaking the silenbsp;

  “Yeah,” Nabi agreed. “Together, we’ve got this.”

  And just like that, the mood shifted from pyful bao quiet determination. They weren’t just teammates anymore—they were a family. A family that would fight for each other, both on and off the mat.

  James, seated fortably between Dipa and Zia, nudged Dipa with his elbow, tilting his head toward her pte. “That’s it? One piece of chi and a sad excuse for a sad?” he teased with an exaggerated look of disbelief.

  Dipa shot him a side-eye. “It’s called self-trol, James. Look it up sometime.”

  James grinned mischievously, pig up a wing from his own pte. “Self-trol is overrated when there’s grilled chi involved. Besides, I thought athletes were supposed to *fuel* their bodies.” He waved the chi wing dramatically in front of her.

  She rolled her eyes but smiled, pullie closer. “You are a very bad influence.”

  “Thank you,” James said with a mock bow. “It’s one of my talents.”

  As the versation at the table picked up, Dipa’s cautious pace began to falter. Bit by bit, she started piling more food onto her pte, sneaking bites between jokes and banter. James watched her progress with amusement, occasionally her more chi, which she accepted without much resistanbsp;

  By the time the ptes were half-empty and the versation had turo old tour stories, Dipa leaned ba her chair with a satisfied groan. She patted her stomach, looking both proud and a little guilty. “I ’t believe I ate that much.”

  James stifled a ugh, wiping his hands with a napkin. “Holy, her I. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Dipa gave him a mock gre, her lips twitg with the hint of a smile. “This is *definitely* your fault. If you hadn’t egged me on, I would’ve stopped after the first piece.”

  “Hey, I just wao see the real Dipa emerge,” James replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “And she did not disappoint.”

  Dipa shook her head, a ugh esg her. “So what’s yrand pn now? Fatten me up before the petition? As I am already this chubby.”

  James tapped his thoughtfully. “Hmm… that *would* be an effective strategy. Slow you down just enough to make me look good.”

  “Good luck with that,” Dipa shot back, grabbing a water gss with an air of mock defiance. “I could still throw you across the mat, chi belly and all.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it.” James chuckled. “But if you ever get famous for your judo skills, I’ll take full credit. ‘The Grilled Chi Method,’ brought to you by James,” he said, mimig the tone of a proud coach giving an interview.