Overpowered Cricket system

The tension in the courtroom was palpable as everyone waited for the judge's verdict. The nation held its collective breath, eyes glued to screens broadcasting the trial live, ears straining to hear the words that would determine Nitish Reddy's fate.

The judge, her expression unreadable, finally spoke. "After careful deliberation of the evidence presented, including the verified recordings and surveillance footage, this court finds the accused, Mr. Nitish Reddy, not guilty. The charges against him are dismissed."

The courtroom erupted into a cacophony of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Nitish, seated at the defendant's table, closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, the weight of the months-long trial momentarily lifting from his shoulders. Across the room, Ayesha's composure shattered. Her face went pale, her lips trembling as she realized the enormity of what was happening.

The judge continued, her tone firm and unyielding. "Furthermore, this court finds Ms. Ayesha guilty of fabricating evidence and making false allegations with malicious intent. Ms. Ayesha is hereby ordered to issue a public apology to Mr. Reddy. Mr. Reddy, you are within your rights to file a defamation suit or pursue further legal action."

Before Nitish could respond, Ayesha fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please, no!" she cried out, her voice desperate. "I have nothing left. No money, no work. I'm so sorry! I was desperate. Please don't sue me!"

The courtroom, now silent, watched her breakdown with a mixture of shock and pity. Nitish, his expression blank, turned to look at her. The woman who had destroyed his life, tarnished his reputation, and turned the world against him now begged for mercy.

"I…" Nitish began, his voice hoarse from weeks of tension, but before he could continue, Rohith gently touched his shoulder. "You don't have to decide now," Rohith said softly. "Let's leave this place."

The judge banged her gavel, signaling the court session was over. "This court is adjourned," she declared. As the gavel struck, reporters outside the courtroom broke the news, and within moments, headlines flooded every screen: "Nitish Reddy Declared Innocent; Ayesha Found Guilty of Fabrication."

As Nitish stepped out of the courthouse, a swarm of people and media surrounded him. The same faces that had vilified him now chanted his name, their cheers echoing through the courthouse steps. "Nitish! Nitish! You're a hero!" they cried. Microphones were thrust toward him, cameras flashing, capturing every step he took.

Nitish's gaze swept over the crowd. These were the same people who had condemned him without hesitation, the same media that had labeled him a predator. The hypocrisy sickened him. His jaw clenched, and he stopped in his tracks, turning back to face the crowd.

His eyes, once calm and kind, were now bloodshot. The cheers and chants died down as the crowd noticed his expression. His fists were clenched so tightly that blood dripped from his palms where his nails dug into his skin. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as a storm of emotions swirled within him.

At that moment, a message pinged on his phone. Rohith, standing beside him, hesitated before speaking. "Nitish, there's something you need to know. Your parents… they…"

Nitish's heart sank even before Rohith finished. "They passed away yesterday. Suicide. I… I kept it from you so you could stay composed for the hearing."

The words hit Nitish like a sledgehammer. His knees buckled slightly, and his vision blurred. The cheering crowd seemed to fade into the background, replaced by memories of his parents—their faces, their voices, their unwavering belief in his innocence despite everything.

He gritted his teeth, his anger bubbling over. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the world, to make everyone pay for what had happened. The very people now cheering his name were the ones who had hounded his parents, the ones who had made their lives unbearable.

Nitish's grip on his wrist tightened, and blood began to drip from his fingers. His eyes, red and brimming with unshed tears, seemed to bleed as well, the intensity of his anguish almost otherworldly. His face turned a deep shade of red, veins bulging at his temples as his fury consumed him.

The crowd, sensing the shift, fell silent. The atmosphere grew heavy, the cheers replaced by an uneasy quiet. Everyone stared at Nitish, unsure of what to say or do.

In the eerie silence, Nitish stepped onto the hood of the car waiting for him. He turned to face the crowd one last time, his eyes filled with unspoken rage and sorrow. He slowly raised his hand, then flicked his middle finger at the sea of faces. The gesture was a clear message—a rejection of their hollow cheers, their hypocrisy, and their empty redemption.

The crowd gasped, stunned into silence. Nitish stepped off the car and slammed the door shut behind him with a force that echoed through the still air. The car sped away, leaving behind a shocked audience and an oppressive silence.

As the silence deepened, whispers began to ripple through the crowd. A journalist received a breaking news alert and hesitated before reading it aloud: "Nitish Reddy's Parents Pass Away by Suicide Amid Public Harassment."

The words hit like a thunderclap. The people who had gathered to cheer for Nitish now looked at each other in shame. The realization of their complicity in his suffering dawned on them, their cheers turning into murmurs of regret.

"I didn't know," someone whispered.

"Did we… did we do this?" another voice asked, trembling.

The media, quick to pivot, began broadcasting stories of Nitish's parents, their quiet dignity during the trial, and the relentless harassment they had faced. The same outlets that had once vilified Nitish now scrambled to atone for their mistakes, painting his family as victims of a merciless society.

Inside the car, Nitish sat in silence, his body trembling with suppressed emotion. Rohith sat beside him, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry, Nitish," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought it was the right thing to do… to wait until after the verdict."

Nitish didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, his mind a whirlwind of rage, grief, and exhaustion. The system in his mind pinged warnings, alerting him to the dangerous levels of emotional distress he was experiencing.

But Nitish ignored it. He was beyond reason, beyond comfort. The world had taken everything from him—his reputation, his peace, his family. And now, even as it tried to give him back his dignity, it felt hollow.

As tears finally spilled down his face, Nitish clenched his fists again, whispering under his breath, "They'll never understand. They never will."

The car drove on, leaving behind the courthouse, the crowd, and the weight of a world that had failed him.