Friendship is like a long road. Some days feel smooth, some days feel rough and some days make you wonder why you are even walking on it. My friends and I have known each other for more than thirty years. We grew up together, studied together, fought together and still stayed close. Most of us are married now. Two of them are still single. We tease them, we ask them, we worry for them but deep down we know marriage is a choice. No one in this world is born with a rule that says you must get married.

But today I am not thinking about marriage. I am thinking about loyalty, responsibility and how easily friendship can be hurt.

Every winter from December onward our cricket season begins. It is one of the few things that still brings all of us together like the old days. For the last ten years, we have been playing winter tournaments without fail. This year was the same. The entry fee was one hundred dollars. Matches were on Friday and Saturday. We all arranged leave from work. We were excited like schoolboys again.

On Thursday night, everything was fine. We joked about strategies, argued about batting order and wished each other goodnight.

Then came Friday morning.

At 6 AM I checked my phone and saw that five of my friends had their phones switched off. First I thought maybe battery gone. No big deal. But as the minutes passed something felt wrong. Still I stayed hopeful. Our first match was at 9 AM. The remaining six of us got ready, took our bikes and headed to the field. We reached by 8 AM.

On the way, I kept calling those five friends again and again. No answer. Not even one message. At one point, I stopped calling. A strange anger and helplessness spread inside me. How can we play with just six players? How can they do this without even informing us?

But we had no choice. We went to the field, tied our shoelaces and played like broken soldiers. And as expected we lost. Other teams made fun of us. They laughed because they did not know the whole story. And we could not even explain because the truth itself was embarrassing.

After the match while holding a cup of tea, I asked everyone, “Now what?”. One friend said “We are done with them. We won’t talk to them anymore.” Another friend cursed them out of pure frustration.

I listened quietly. Deep down I felt hurt. Not because we lost the match but because of the betrayal. Still I tried to stay calm. I said to myself, if someone is busy, if someone has family plans, that is not a crime. But at least say something. Tell us before. Do not leave us hanging on the morning of a match we prepared for weeks.

For the second match we had to borrow players from another team. That itself was humiliating. We lost again. After that, we stopped playing and gave walkovers for the remaining matches. The day that was supposed to be filled with excitement became a day of disappointment.

When I reached home, took a shower and sat down with a cup of tea, my phone rang. It was a WhatsApp group call from the five who skipped. They said they did not come because they had an argument with one of our friends the night before. They stayed away out of anger.

I stayed silent for a few seconds. Then I asked one simple question, “Because you had a fight with one person did you really have to ruin the effort of the entire team? Did our friendship mean so little to you?”

But instead of understanding, they misunderstood. They thought I was taking the other friend’s side. They got defensive. They twisted my words. Suddenly, I was the villain.

That hurt even more.

I kept thinking, where did I go wrong? Did I say something harsh? Did I expect too much? Or is friendship really that fragile?

Thirty years of knowing each other and still one small argument can break the chain. One moment of ego can destroy months of planning. One morning of silence can leave a scar that takes years to fade.

That day, I realized something important: Friendship is not difficult because people change. It is difficult because people stop thinking about how their actions affect others.

They forget that their anger can ruin someone else’s happiness. They forget that commitment means something. They forget that when you are part of a team, your decisions don’t affect just you.

That morning, we did not just lose a cricket match. We lost trust. We lost respect. We lost the feeling that we could always depend on each other.

Maybe friendship is simple in words, but in real life it takes effort, honesty, and maturity. Without those, even thirty years of friendship can shake. I still don’t know where I went wrong. But I know one thing clearly. Cricket matches come every year. But the chance to prove you care does not.

And sometimes missing that chance hurts more than any defeat on the field.