Shobhana's POV

I was in the middle of the best sleep of my life when a sudden, loud bang jolted me awake. My heart leaped into my throat, and I instinctively grabbed the cricket bat that always rests next to my bed, ready to swing at whatever—or whoever—was causing the noise.

What the hell? I thought, half asleep, and fully prepared to turn into a superhero with a bat. I crept towards the window, the bat in my hand like some sort of weaponized comfort. I was ready to destroy anyone who dared break into my peaceful life.

I yanked the curtain open, and—oh. My. God.

"Shobhana! It's me!" Shubman's voice rang out below, and I froze mid-swing.

Shubman? What the hell is he doing here at this hour?

I let out a frustrated sigh, lowering the bat. "Shubman, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

He looked up at me, wide-eyed. "You weren't picking up your phone!" he exclaimed, looking like a lost puppy. "And why do you have a bat?"

Oh god, why do I feel like an idiot right now?

"I thought someone was breaking in," I muttered, still in a haze, and he snickered.

"May I come in now?" he asked with a playful grin, clearly amused by the situation.

I rolled my eyes but moved aside, muttering, "Yeah, come on in."

He nimbly climbed in through the window, and I couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed as he did. Damn, he's hot. Focus, Shobhana. Focus.

He landed lightly on the floor, flashing a grin at me. "Nice room," he complimented, his eyes scanning the place.

I leaned against the window frame, crossing my arms. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked, still trying to get my bearings.

"Well, I missed you, so I came to see you," he answered casually, taking a step closer. My heart skipped a beat, and I tried to play it cool.

"You never told me you play cricket," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes as he noticed the bat I'd been wielding.

"I used to," I replied, dropping the bat on my bed. "Not anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

I sighed, my voice softening. "I stopped after my parents' death. They were supposed to come watch my match, and... it just felt wrong after that."

The mood shifted, and he stepped closer, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Shobhana," he murmured. "But I'm glad you told me."

I smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's alright," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "So, anyway, about this match..." I motioned to the bed, inviting him to sit.

"Yeah, go on," he said, his excitement palpable. He was like a little kid on Christmas morning, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay," I began, sitting next to him. "After our 10th finals, we had this big match against a neighboring school. It happens every year."

"Wow, sounds intense," he said, his eyes wide. "Go on, I'm listening."

I chuckled, the memory making me feel nostalgic. "As usual, me and the boys won. Nothing new there."

"Boys?" he repeated, sounding a little confused.

"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "I was the only girl on the team. But the boys didn't mind. They accepted me, and I played alongside them."

Shubman's eyes lit up. "Wow, my girlfriend's a cricketer? Yesss!" he exclaimed, as though he had just won a personal victory.

I playfully rolled my eyes. "Well, I wasn't the only girl. But yeah, I guess I was the most badass."

He laughed, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "I like that. A lot."

"Anyway," I continued, shaking my head, "I started playing when I was in fifth grade. Played for years—society matches, inter-house, inter-school stuff." I shrugged. "It became a part of me."

He smiled wide, his eyes sparkling. "You must have a ton of trophies. Show me!"

I led him to a shelf across the room where my collection of trophies sat proudly. Shubman stood there in awe, his hands lightly brushing against the glass of each one.

"Holy shit! You have so many!" he exclaimed, clearly impressed. His excitement was contagious, and I couldn't help but laugh.

Then, I noticed him holding up a framed photo of me from the night shoot. The one I had printed out and framed as a memento. I froze.

"Oh my god, when did you take this?" he asked, his voice soft, his gaze intense as he looked at the photo.

"During the night shoot," I replied, my voice trailing off as I blushed. I can't believe he found this.

I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks. "You look so cute when you blush," he teased, reaching over to lightly tap my cheek.

I swatted at his hand, trying to hide my smile. "Oh stop it!" I muttered, though my heart was fluttering in my chest.

Then, I heard a familiar beep. Shit. It's 6 am already.

I groaned, switching off the alarm, and then glanced at Shubman. "Want some coffee?" I asked, already walking toward the kitchen.

He nodded eagerly, following me. "You bet."

As I started to prepare the coffee, I heard the door creak, and my eyes widened. "Shit. My brother's home! Go hide in my room!" I whisper-yelled, panic rising in my chest.

Shubman immediately jumped into action, slipping into my room and closing the door behind him.

I tried to compose myself, my heart still racing, and as I heard muffled footsteps from the hallway, I turned to Shubman. "Stay quiet, okay?"

I waited for what felt like an eternity, holding my breath as I heard my brother talking to someone. 

My eyes darted nervously toward the window. I made my way to the edge and gestured for Shubman to sneak out.

"Go, go, go!" I whispered, grinning mischievously as he made his way toward the window.

He flashed me one last smile before climbing out the window, and I chuckled as I saw his head pop back up one last time.

"Bye!" he mouthed.

I waved, trying not to laugh too loud as he disappeared into the morning light, my heart still racing.

Once the coast was clear, I collapsed onto the couch, finally allowing myself to breathe.

God, this is getting out of hand.