It was around an hour after the winning runs had been struck, and the once packed-to-the-literal-brim 16,000-capacity Rangiri Dambulla stadium had filtered clear. A pocket of fans, largely kids, had been let onto the ground, near the players' dugouts.
Standing behind a minimal police cordon, they called out for "Chamari akki [older sister]". They were at it for almost 10 minutes straight, when suddenly the decibel levels rose exponentially. Chamari Athapaththu - still on the ground, acquiescing to every bystander, every interview request, every interaction really - had finally made her way through to her adoring young fans.
She walked up to them raised one hand, and held the Asia Cup trophy in the other. If this was a dream come true for those kids, could you just imagine what it might have felt like for Athapaththu?
Here she was in the twilight of her career, standing in a moment that she, maybe even two years prior, could have hardly conceived. India, an opponent that had seemed almost untouchable, had been vanquished. A new set of players now ready and willing to take on the responsibility, a responsibility that had for so long been hers and hers alone to bear. And most importantly, women's cricket finally getting its due.
This was no token viewing, no passing crowd. This was pure emotion, unadulterated joy, and total entertainment. This here was change in its most tangible form. There's a girl tomorrow that will pick up a bat because of this, a parent that would encourage it, not dismiss it. This was a dream manifesting into reality.
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Rewind two hours and you would have forgiven Athapaththu wondering if her dream was busy transitioning into a nightmare.
It had all been going according to plan up until that point too. Seeing how strong India's batting had been leading up to this final, there was a sense that Sri Lanka really needed to win the toss and chase. As events would conspire, they ended up losing the toss but still wound up chasing since India felt a third-use pitch might only get tougher for batting later on. Sometimes you write your own scripts, other times it's simply written for you.
And so it was that Athapaththu, as she might have visualised heading into this game, was spearheading Sri Lanka's unlikely chase to a first-ever major trophy. Sure, she had lost Vishmi Gunaratne early - a run out that Athapaththu admitted was largely her fault - but now she had Harshitha Samarawickrama by her side and things were going well.
With India's 165 square in their crosshairs, the pair had maintained the required rate at around eight an over for the entirety of their 63-ball 87-run stand, and Athapaththu in particular was batting as well as she had done across the tournament. But with 72 needed, the plan was ripped from her hands; with 48 balls left, she was back in the dugout, bowled around her legs.
"I wanted to get at least another 20-30 runs, because I knew if I brought the target closer the team would be able to do the rest," Athapaththu said after the game. Her concerns were warranted. Against Pakistan in the semi-final, a similar thing had happened. There Athapaththu fell with 21 needed from 21, and the team proceeded to lose three more wickets before squeezing through with one ball to spare.
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The foundations for this victory, though, had been laid much earlier, by about 18 months, when Rumesh Ratnayake was appointed as women's head coach. That term - appointment - is being used loosely here because, to date, Sri Lanka Cricket are yet to acknowledge it. Ratnayake was brought in on an interim capacity prior to the 2023 T20 World Cup and has remained in the role ever since.
His impact on this side has been nothing short of transformative. This is after all pretty much the same side - barring a few changes - that was brushed aside by India in the 2022 Asia Cup. However over the past year, each subsequent victory has served to feed that ever-growing belief.
"The staff has given us huge support," Athapaththu said. "They've brought in so much in terms of thinking positively, keeping certain things in the past. If a catch is dropped or if there's a marginal call on a decision, we don't discuss those things. We only look at how to score better in the next game, how to make sure we take the next catch that comes."
It may sound simple, but that's because it is. Belief after all is a tenuous thing. When you have it everything is golden, but holding on to it, that part is tricky. Many professionals go through good and bad periods in terms of self-belief, but right now this Sri Lanka side is riding the wave.
This mindset was certainly put to the test against India. Smriti Mandhana, dropped by Harshitha Samarawickrama on 10, went on to score a 47-ball 60. Samarawickrama's day then got even worse when she dropped Richa Ghosh when she was just on 5, and to aggravate matters further, on 9, Ghosh was given not out despite having clearly nicked behind.
The India wicketkeeper went on to smash Kavisha Dilhari - Sri Lanka's best bowler to that point - for 18 in the penultimate over, and India, who had been looking at a total of around 150 were suddenly in line to clear 170. Only an excellent final over from the ageless Udeshika Prabodhani prevented that.
"Once something like that happens, you can't live with that feeling. You gotta just focus on what needs to be done next. We have to look at what we can and can't control. Yes, Harshitha dropped some catches but she came out and played a match-winning innings.
"I spoke to her at that point and said 'that's over, focus on the next thing' because we needed her in the right mindset to bat.
"When I was batting with Harshitha, I told her not to doing anything rash. I'll play my natural game, but if I get out you're going to have to be the one to finish it."
And finish it she did. With Dilhari by her side, Samarawickrama brought up just her sixth T20I fifty in 59 innings, as the pair took Sri Lanka home with eight balls to spare. Dilhari's six down the ground to win the game, a perfect encapsulation of how far they had come, not just on the field but in terms of their own self-belief.
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Ten out of 10, no 100 out of 100. That's probably how many times Harmanpreet Kaur would have snaffled up the catch that was presented to at mid-off in the 16th over. Samarawickrama was on 45 at the time and both she and Dilhari were just starting to roll. A wicket there and the whole complexion of the chase might have changed, with two new batters at the crease. Pakistan all over again.
But while this was an ordinary catch, it also wasn't. Because an entire stadium was rooting against it. Sixteen thousand people, all around Harmanpreet, were manifesting her to drop it. And when she did, there was an explosion, as if it wasn't just a cricket ball that had hit the floor but a grenade.
An explosion of joy. An explosion of relief. A kindling of a feeling. A feeling that maybe this was meant to be.
But spare a thought for Harmanpreet. If this sort of atmosphere was new for the Sri Lankan players, it was equally so for this Indian side. Sure, they've played in front of packed crowds before but there can't be many times when they've faced one so hostile.
When Harmanpreet spoke after the game, she was able to analyse it rationally. Yes, India hadn't been at their best. With the bat they were quieter than usual, and with the ball they weren't as penetrative as they would have liked. For them, this is an unfortunate speed bump on the road to the greater prize of October's T20 World Cup.
But let that not take anything away from Sri Lanka, nor let it be the end of the story. 1996. 2014. And now 2024. This will no doubt go down as one of the finest cricketing achievements by a Sri Lankan side, but if their own mantra is anything to go by, they won't have long to look back on it. To quote Athapaththu, that's over, now focus on the next thing.