Shubman wiped the last plate clean, his movements deliberate as he dried it and placed it carefully into the cabinet. The faint clinking of dishes echoed in the quiet kitchen, and Kinjal couldn’t help but watch him. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his veined forearms, and his hair was a tousled mess. It was the kind of image that made her stomach churn with feelings she didn’t understand, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Once he was done, he turned back toward her and sat beside her on the counter. The space between them was nearly nonexistent now—his thigh brushed against hers, sending a surge of awareness through her body. Kinjal stiffened slightly, gripping the edge of the counter to stop herself from reacting.

Shubman exhaled sharply, gathering his thoughts, before speaking. “I need a favor from you,” he began, his voice quiet but steady.

Kinjal raised an eyebrow, trying to mask her curiosity. “A favor? From me?” she asked, pretending to sound uninterested even as her heartbeat picked up.

He nodded, his gaze falling to his hands as if he couldn’t look at her. “There’s been this… rumor going around. About me and Sara Tendulkar.”

Kinjal’s brow furrowed slightly. “Sara Tendulkar? The senior’s daughter?”

“Yeah,” Shubman replied, clearly uncomfortable. “The media’s been pushing this story for over a year now. They’re saying we’re dating… and now—” he hesitated before sighing, “—now there’s even a rumor that we’re married.”

Kinjal blinked in surprise. “Married? Seriously? That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly!” Shubman said, frustrated, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s absurd. I don’t even like her that way. I’m just polite because she’s my senior’s daughter. That’s it. But people won’t let it go. It’s becoming a mess.”

Kinjal tilted her head slightly, still holding her curious expression. “So what does this have to do with me?”

Shubman finally looked up, his brown eyes meeting hers for a second before darting away again. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he said softly, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself.

Kinjal froze, her arms crossing over her chest as she processed what he’d just said. A fake girlfriend? Was he serious?

She stared at him blankly, her sharp mind already racing ahead. The idea sounded ridiculous, but the look on his face told her he wasn’t joking.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Kinjal scoffed, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Shubman replied quickly, trying to defend himself. “If people see me with someone else—someone real—they’ll stop talking about Sara and me. It’ll end the rumors.”

Kinjal leaned forward slightly, eyeing him carefully. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”

Shubman blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Kinjal straightened up, her tone sharp and practical. “I’m an ACP, Shubman. My work involves a lot of pressure, and I get paid for every second of it. If I’m doing something outside of my job, it better be worth my time. But for you? What’s in it for me other than getting tagged as ‘a cricketer’s girlfriend’ all over the media?”

Shubman stared at her, clearly flustered, struggling to come up with a response. “I mean… it’ll only be for a while,” he tried weakly.

Kinjal raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Shubman sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I—I didn’t think about that,” he admitted.

“Clearly,” Kinjal replied sarcastically, pushing off the counter as if to walk away. “Find someone else, Shubman. I’m not interested.”

“Wait, wait!” Shubman quickly stood up, stepping in front of her to block her path. His expression was a mix of desperation and determination. “Please, Kinjal. You’re the only one I can ask. You already know me, and you’re not someone who’ll get swept up in the attention.”

Kinjal crossed her arms again, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re still not answering what I’ll get in return.”

Shubman hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking hard, before blurting out, “I’ll pay you!”

Kinjal paused, her eyes narrowing further as she processed his words. “Pay me?”

“Yes!” Shubman continued quickly, as though the idea had just struck him. “I’ll pay you. A large amount. Whatever you think is fair for your time and effort.”

Kinjal stared at him, her face unreadable, but on the inside, she was battling a mix of amusement and disbelief. He’s offering to pay me to fake date him?

“How much are we talking?” she asked, her voice neutral, though she couldn’t suppress the faint hint of curiosity.

Shubman shifted nervously. “Name your price,” he said, looking both serious and hopeful. “Whatever you want. Just help me out, please.”

Kinjal considered it for a moment, her expression still cool and impassive, though her mind was already whirring with possibilities. The situation was insane—ridiculous, even—but if Shubman was serious about paying her a large amount, who was she to refuse?

After a moment of silence, she shrugged nonchalantly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Fine,” she said finally. “If you’re paying, I’ll do it.”

Shubman let out a relieved sigh, visibly relaxing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice soft.

Kinjal rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the faint amusement in her expression. “You better make it worth my time, cricketer boy,” she teased.

Shubman glanced at her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I will,” he promised quietly.

As she looked at him—still standing in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, his hair a mess—Kinjal couldn’t help but wonder what she’d just gotten herself into. But one thing was certain: things were about to get very interesting.