Shobhana's POV

"BROOOO! Kriti and I got selected for the IPL. THE. FUCKING. IPL!" I practically screamed into the phone, jumping around like a caffeinated kangaroo.

"First of all, language," Sundar deadpanned. "And second, that's amazing. I'm proud of you two," he said, sounding like a responsible elder sibling, which was honestly a rare sighting. 

"But I gotta go. Call me later, yeah?" he added before abruptly hanging up because clearly, my life-changing news was less important than whatever he was doing.

I threw my phone onto the bed and got to work packing my suitcase. Or at least, trying to pack. It's me, so obviously it took a chaotic hour of dumping things in, pulling them out, reorganizing, and realizing I forgot basic essentials like toothpaste. 

By the end of it, my room looked like a suitcase had thrown up everywhere.

Finally, I sat down with the file. Flight timing: 4:30 p.m. Destination: Mumbai. Teams: RCB and KKR.

RCB?! RCB?!?!

I shrieked loud enough to scare the birds off the tree outside. "KRITI, I GOT RCB AND KKR!!!" I yelled over the phone like a maniac.

"WHAT?!" she screamed back, just as feral. "GUESS WHAT—CSK AND SRH FOR ME!"

For the next five minutes, we were just two overgrown toddlers screeching and fangirling incoherently. 

RCB meant VIRAT KOHLI. KKR meant... honestly, I was too hyped to think straight. My brain was stuck on Virat. Freaking. Kohli.

"Okay, calm down. I'm outside your house. Let's go already," Kriti finally said, cutting through the chaos.

By 4:30, we were on the plane. Kriti knocked out the second we took off, while I plugged in my headphones and blasted my "I'm going to work with cricket gods" playlist. 

It was mostly Taylor Swift with some Dua Lipa and Olivia Rodrigo sprinkled in for the vibes.

The flight was uneventful, though I did spend half of it imagining bumping into Virat and saying something stupid like, "Hi, I breathe oxygen too!"

At around 6:00, we landed. "Kriti! Wake up, wake up!" I shook her awake as she grumbled something about wanting more time to sleep.

"Girl, we're in Mumbai. Move it," I said, dragging her off the plane. By 6:20, we had our suitcases and were outside hunting for a taxi. 

The chaos was palpable—Mumbai airport at rush hour is not for the weak.

By 7:00, we'd reached the hotel. Kriti and I stood at the reception desk, looking like lost tourists, before finally checking in. 

"Our rooms are next to each other!" Kriti said, handing me the key card.

"Thanks, Kitkat," I said, snatching it from her. The elevator dinged, and we both walked in, high on excitement but also low on energy.

"We'll freshen up and eat dinner, yeah?" I suggested, and she nodded, yawning halfway through.

Dinner was a mess of me fangirling over Virat and AB de Villiers. "You need to CALM DOWN," Kriti said, waving a fork in my face.

"Don't Taylor Swift me right now, Kitkat," I shot back. "Do you realize I'm about to be in the same room as AB Freaking De Villiers?"

"Didn't you do a shoot with Anushka ma'am once?" Kriti reminded me, raising an eyebrow.

"That was different! That was work. THIS IS... OKAY FINE, THIS IS ALSO WORK, BUT STILL!" I flailed dramatically. 

Kriti rolled her eyes so hard I was afraid they'd get stuck.

"Go to sleep, Shobi. You're embarrassing us," she said, standing up and walking to her room with the confidence of someone who wasn't internally combusting.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, reality hit me like a truck. Tomorrow, I had KKR's practice session. Kriti would leave for her teams, and I'd be alone. 

With cricketers. Oh god. What if I trip? What if I forget their names? What if I call one of them by the wrong team?

"Dear universe, if you have any mercy, save me," I whispered into the void before passing out.