chapter three / centuries

The sun beat down on the field, the crowd's cheers a distant hum as Shubman stood at the crease, bat in hand, eyes locked on the bowler. 

He wasn't thinking about the game. Not really. He wasn't even aware of the camera flashes capturing his every move. His mind was elsewhere—on her.

Verena.

He had scored a century. A milestone that should've felt monumental, but right now, it was just another game, another set of runs added to his ever-growing tally. 

His bat swung through the air, making crisp contact with the ball as it flew to the boundary. A perfect shot, effortless. His eyes lingered for a moment on the ball as it sailed away, almost as if he were lost in a dream.

And in that dream, she was there—her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when they were together. 

He could almost hear her voice in his head, teasing him about how "unimpressive" he looked when he was too focused on cricket.

Shubman took a moment, glancing at the scoreboard, then back at the ball as the bowler lined up again. But all he could think about was her. How she'd spent the night in his arms, how everything felt right when she was near him. 

How, when he was with her, the world didn't care about his batting average or his fame or the cameras constantly flashing in his face.

The crowd roared as the umpire raised his hand, signalling that he had reached his century.

Without thinking, his body moved on autopilot. The bat lowered, his hands gripping the handle tightly as he took a few steps back from the crease. 

He nodded briefly at the crowd, but it wasn't for them. It was for her.

The iconic bow.

His head dropped as he bent at the waist, sweeping a bow as the applause of the crowd rang out around him. A movement so practiced, so effortless—he'd done it a thousand times before. But this time, there was a new layer to it. 

Something just for her.

He'd always done the bow to honour his roots, and his love for the game, but today, it was something more personal. As he bowed, his thoughts flickered to her. 

The way she made him feel when no one was watching. The little things she did—the way she traced his tattoo in the quiet moments, or how they'd share that secret smile only the two of them understood.

When he straightened up, his heart was racing, but it wasn't from the century. It was from thinking about her. The knowledge that this victory was his, but it was theirs, too. 

He was standing in the middle of a stadium full of people, but all he wanted at that moment was to text her, to tell her how much he missed her. 

To send her a picture of the scoreboard, the century, and that bow—just for her.

The team cheered, and he gave them a brief wave, but his mind was elsewhere. No one knew about her. Not a single soul on the field knew that the real reason for that bow wasn't for the cricket gods or the crowd. It was for the woman who had his heart. 

The woman who didn't care about his fame or the cameras. The woman who had his name on her skin, and who he'd been dreaming about all morning.

As the game resumed, Shubman stood there, bat in hand, his focus renewed. But this time, it wasn't just about the game. 

It was about her—the one secret he would carry with him, buried deep beneath his public persona, forever hidden in the folds of his life.

It was their secret, and the moment he took that bow, he knew he was never going to stop thinking about her. Not for a second.

Later that night, the tension of the match still buzzed in the air as the Indian team began to trickle out of the locker room. The excitement was palpable, the buzz of their victory still fresh in their minds. 

The boys were gathered in a small huddle, laughing and talking about the game, eager to head out and grab some drinks to celebrate Shubman's century. 

They had all witnessed his iconic bow, the one he reserved for the big moments, and were all eager to congratulate him properly.

"Oi, Shubman!" Virat called out, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. 

"That century was insane, man! You owe us a drink tonight. Come on, don't be a spoilsport—let's celebrate!"

The rest of the team echoed Virat's sentiment, cheering and clapping him on the back. The mood was light, and casual, and the boys were excited to hang out. 

They had been on the road for weeks, and any chance to blow off steam was one they weren't about to pass up.

Shubman, however, wasn't as enthused. He had just stepped out of the locker room, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his head already in a different place. 

His usual calm demeanour was now mixed with something else, something he had been trying to hide all day—the excitement and anticipation of what was to come later.

He turned toward the group, giving them a half-smile. But there was something distant about it, something guarded.

"Ah, thanks, but I can't," Shubman said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I have to prep for my Business Management final year."

The words fell out of his mouth easily, as if it was just another part of his routine, and yet, it sounded rehearsed. 

It was the same excuse he'd used for weeks, ever since the semester had started. Everyone had accepted it without question, but tonight, it felt like the words were heavier than usual.

A few raised eyebrows swept across the group. Rohit narrowed his eyes, a slight smirk forming. 

"Business Management? Really, Shubman?" he teased, his voice filled with playful disbelief. 

"You're seriously gonna skip out on a celebration for that?"

Shubman shifted his weight, a subtle flicker of irritation flashing behind his eyes. He didn't want to get into it. 

He didn't want anyone prying. But he also knew it was getting harder to keep the charade going.

"Yeah, and I have an assignment to submit, too," he added, his tone casual, as if trying to convince himself as much as the others. 

"It's due tomorrow, so I can't afford to slack off."

There was a brief moment of silence before Hardik let out a small chuckle. 

"You? A business student? Man, I don't buy it. You can't even handle a basic PowerPoint presentation without looking like you're about to pass out," he joked, nudging Ishan, who burst out laughing.

The group chuckled, but it was clear they weren't entirely convinced. Shubman had always been the quiet one, the guy who didn't go for the wild parties or the late-night rants. 

But this, this obsession with studying, the constant focus on assignments, it wasn't like him.

"I swear, you're turning into one of those nerds, man," Ishan teased with a grin. "Don't make us start calling you 'Professor Gill'!"

Shubman forced a laugh, trying to play it off. "Hey, someone's gotta take their education seriously, right?" He brushed a hand through his hair, still trying to maintain his nonchalant composure. 

But underneath the calm exterior, his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't get her out of his head. He had promised to call her tonight, and he was determined not to break that promise.

"I'll catch you guys later. Have fun," Shubman said, turning toward the door, his back straight and his pace quickening.

The boys exchanged glances as he walked off, but no one pressed it further. It was typical Shubman—always polite, always trying to play it cool. 

They shrugged it off and went on to their celebration, leaving Shubman to his thoughts.

Once he was out of sight, Shubman's expression softened. He walked out into the cool night air, his phone already in hand. He unlocked it with a quick swipe, and within seconds, he was dialling her number. The call connected almost instantly, and he heard the sound of her voice on the other end.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice light but with a hint of warmth. "It's me."

Her voice filled his ears, soft and familiar, instantly calming him. "Shubi! I was just thinking about you. How was the game?"

He leaned against the wall of the hotel, looking out over the quiet street. "It was good," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

"Scored a century, did the bow. But..." he trailed off for a second, "I couldn't stop thinking about you, as usual."

She let out a soft laugh, and he could almost picture her smile, that smile that always made his heart skip a beat. "I miss you," she said simply, and the words hit him harder than he expected.

"I miss you too," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the sound of her voice sink into him.

The rest of the world could wait.  

SOUP RANTS!

the third chapter is here!
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do comment your favorite part
what do you think will happen in the next chapter?

until then
yours lovingly,
soup <3