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Chapter 22

Time Skip to 2022

In the heart of Mumbai, where the skyline is a canvas of architectural marvels, Shubman and Anvi had woven a tapestry of love and companionship. Their relationship, once a delicate thread, had strengthened over time, culminating in a public declaration of their bond on the vibrant stage of social media. Together, they had embarked on a new chapter, setting up a shared home in the bustling metropolis. Anvi, with her insightful mind and healing touch, had established herself as a successful psychologist, her clinic a sanctuary for those seeking solace.

Their abode was a reflection of their dreams, adorned with the latest in interior design, where technology met comfort in a seamless blend. The garden, a splash of green amidst the concrete, was their personal retreat, where flowers danced to the rhythm of the city's breeze.

As Shubman returned from the cricket grounds, weary yet fulfilled, Anvi would be there, her arms open, her embrace a haven. "How was practice?" she would inquire, her voice a melody that soothed his tired muscles. His reply, often nonchalant, "It was okay," would be met with a kiss, a silent message of support, followed by her gentle nudge, "Go and shower, I have made dinner."

The evening unfolded with a sense of routine, Shubman fresh from the shower, the television flickering to life, its screen soon to reveal the fates of those in the cricketing world. The IPL 2022 was upon them, and with it, the announcement of the players who would be released and retained.

As the names were read out, a list of comrades and competitors, the moment of truth arrived. Shah Rukh Khan's voice, a familiar comfort, now carried a weight that sent the remote tumbling from Shubman's grasp. "We are releasing Shubman Gill..." The words hung in the air, a specter of uncertainty that clouded his vision. Anvi, sensing the turmoil, rushed to his side, her questions laced with concern. "Shub, are you alright?"

The revelation left his lips in a stutter, "K-KKR, r-released m-me." The shock was palpable, shared in the tightness of Anvi's embrace, her reassurance a whisper against the storm, "Shh... it's okay. Maybe some other team might take you. Don't worry." Dinner passed in a hush, their thoughts a tangled mess, but their proximity a reminder of the constancy of their love.

Night gave way to morning, and with it, a call that pierced the silence. Ashish Nehra's voice, a herald of new beginnings, spoke of the Gujarat Titans, a new team, a new hope. "Would you like to play for the team?" he asked. Shubman's response was immediate, affirmative, a lifeline grasped with both hands, "Sure sir, I would love to play for the team."

As the call ended, Shubman's gaze fell upon Anvi, her slumber undisturbed. He rose, a man renewed, and as the television announced his name among the chosen for the Gujarat Titans, Anvi's voice joined the chorus of congratulations. "Wow! New team. See, you are selected."

Plans were set in motion, bags packed with the precision of a man on a mission. Shubman's journey to Ahmedabad was imminent, a solo voyage, but not without the promise of Anvi's presence at the Wankhede matches.

Their life was a series of shared experiences, from the joy of welcoming old friends like Ishan to the comfort of domestic rituals. Pancakes, laughter, and the magic of Harry Potter filled their home with warmth, even as Shubman prepared for the challenges ahead.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban with my ❤️❤️ @shubmangill

Comments
shubmangill:
P.S. I know nothing of Harry Potter😁😁
                          ↪anushkasharma: You don't know Harry Potter?🤧🤧
athiyashetty: Aww movie time with ❤️is so fun but some people does not like it.
                          ↪ritssajdeh: Exactly @athiyashetty
klrahul: @rohitsharma45 I guess we need to run.
               ↪rohitsharma45: Probably you are right.
shreyasiyer96: Haiyye, what a jodi. Everyday they give me 'Why am I single' vibes.
                             ↪shresta002: Because you deserve it.
shahneelgill: My cuties😘😘
                          ↪anvi_jadhav: 🤗🤗
                                                  ↪shubmangill: 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️ 
@shahneelgill
yashasvijasiwal28: My all time fav movie.
                                      ↪anvi_jadhav: Finally someone who I can share my views with.
maanya_jadhav: Harry potter obsessed.
                                 ↪anvi_jadhav: Thanks Ms.Jadhav or.....
                                                               ↪maanya_jadhav: Shut up.
yuzi_chahal23: 😍😍
                           ↪anvi_jadhav: 🤗🤗

ishankishan23: When did this happen?
                               ↪shubmangill: When you left.

View More Comments

As the enchanting world of Harry Potter unfolded on the screen, Shubman found himself adrift in a sea of restlessness. The magic of the film, which had captivated Anvi, seemed to elude him, and he rose from the couch, a silent figure moving through the shadows of their home. His feet carried him to the sanctuary of their home gym, where he sought solace in the rhythm of physical exertion, the clanking of weights a counterpoint to the symphony of emotions within him.

Upon his return, he found Anvi still lost in the cinematic tale, her attention unwavering. With a tenderness born of love, he refrained from disturbing her reverie, instead retreating to the solitude of the shower. The water cascaded over him, a cleansing flood that washed away the inertia of boredom. Clad in the simplicity of a white t-shirt and black shorts, he set about packing his bags, each fold of clothing a meticulous preparation for his impending journey to Ahmedabad.

The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the tranquility of the room, a harbinger of urgency. It was the hospital's management, their voices laced with apology and concern. "Sir, sorry to disturb you sir, but there are 10 patients waiting for madam and we called her but she did not pick up. Can you send her to the hospital?" The request was clear, and Shubman, ever the supportive partner, nodded his assent.

Anvi's frown deepened as the television blinked off, her confusion palpable. "Why did you turn it off?" she queried, her voice a mix of surprise and mild irritation. Shubman's response was gentle, yet firm, "Doctor, 10 patients are waiting for you in the hospital. Quickly get ready and go." The gravity of her calling pulled Anvi from the fictional world, and she hastened to dress in an ensemble that was both professional and chic—a shirt with blue and white vertical stripes that whispered of ocean breezes, paired with high-waisted white trousers that spoke of crisp efficiency.

Adorned with the chain bearing her name—a token of Shubman's affection—she applied a touch of makeup, a subtle enhancement to her natural beauty. With her doctor coat in hand, she descended the stairs, where Shubman awaited, ready to escort her to the place where her skills were needed most.

The drive to the hospital was swift, a blur of cityscapes and honking horns. Upon arrival, Anvi's lips met Shubman's in a fleeting kiss, a promise of return, before she disappeared into the building that demanded her expertise.

Left to his own devices, Shubman donned the disguise of anonymity—a mask, hoodie, and sunglasses—and ventured to the mall. His mission was simple: procure the fruits that would nourish them in the days to come. Yet, even in this mundane task, an unexpected encounter awaited. A bump, an apology, and a curious inquiry, "Mind if I ask your name?" The woman, Suhana, was a stranger seeking connection, but Shubman, ever mindful of his purpose, extricated himself with a polite dismissal, "Please leave me alone. I need to buy some essentials."

With the errand completed, he returned home, where the domestic sphere welcomed him with open arms. Time passed, and Anvi's return marked the end of his solitary stewardship. She found him there, amidst the hum of the refrigerator, his hands deftly arranging their sustenance. Her embrace from behind was a silent testament to their partnership, her words playful, "Who will believe that the cricketer Shubman Gill does household work."

His smile was a reflection of his heart, "I just want to help you. How much will you do alone?" The conversation meandered to the necessities of life, the supermarket list already fulfilled by Shubman's thoughtful actions. Dinner was a shared decision, pasta ordered and savored, a simple pleasure in their complex world.

As night draped its velvet cloak over the city, Shubman's packing reached its conclusion, the finality of his departure hanging in the air. Anvi, her emotions a delicate dance of pride and longing, sought refuge in his embrace. Her head rested against his chest, her arms encircling him in a circle of love. Shubman's kiss upon her forehead was a benediction, his arms a shelter. Together, they surrendered to slumber, their dreams intertwined, a single heartbeat echoing in the quiet of the night.

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