Hey guys,
I couldn't help but update on Virat's and Rohit's meeting with Shahneel😆😆. But I know that you will be happy to ready it today. Maybe a little emotional chapter but I hope you like it.

The sun had barely set on the cricket field, and the echoes of the crowd's cheers still hung in the air as India celebrated another victory. Amidst the jubilation, Virat and Rohit exchanged a look of shared resolve before making their way to Shahneel's residence. The weight of their mission was palpable, a stark contrast to the lightness of the win they had just secured.

Upon reaching the doorstep, they knocked, and the door swung open to reveal Alyssa, her expression a mix of shock and awe. "V-Virat K-Kohli and R-Rohit S-Sharma?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Both men nodded, their presence commanding yet gentle. "Can we come in?" Virat asked, his tone respectful.

"Sure sir, come in," Alyssa managed to reply, stepping aside to let them enter. The question of Shahneel's whereabouts was promptly addressed, and Alyssa, still reeling from the surprise visit, directed them to her room.

Rohit's voice carried a note of urgency. "Can you call her?" he asked.

Alyssa nodded, her movements quick as she made her way to Shahneel's room. A soft knock, a pause, and then Shahneel appeared, her expression one of confusion. "Dude, Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma are asking for you. They're here?" Alyssa relayed, her words laced with disbelief.

Shahneel's frown deepened, but curiosity led her to the living room where the two cricketers awaited. "Hello sir, how can I help you?" she inquired, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Virat's request was simple yet profound. "Shahneel, we wanted to speak to you alone." With a glance from Shahneel, Alyssa retreated to her room, leaving them in privacy.

"Shahneel, mujhe sab pata hai ki tere aur Shubman ki beech kya hua," Virat began, his voice a blend of empathy and authority. Shahneel's nod was a silent admission, and Virat continued, painting a picture of Shubman's torment, his constant yearning for reconciliation.

Shahneel's defense was a fortress built on hurt and principle. "Bhai, what he did was very wrong, and he should have thought about everything before making that mistake," she asserted.

Rohit interjected, his question cutting to the heart of the matter. "Shahneel, tell us honestly, don't you ever miss Shubman?" Her admission was reluctant but honest. "I do, bhai. I miss him a lot, but what he did was wrong."

Virat's concern for Shubman's mental health was palpable as he outlined the dire consequences of continued estrangement. "Shahneel, his mental health is deteriorating day by day. If this continues, he may never play cricket again. His career will be ruined, and all your father's hard work will go to waste."

Tears streamed down Shahneel's cheeks as Virat challenged her trust in a third person over her brother. Rohit's questions about Shubman's post-match demeanor only added to the poignancy of the moment.

"Shahneel, now is the time. Meet him and tell him everything," Virat urged, his plea a last-ditch effort to mend the fractured bond.

Shahneel, her tears a testament to her inner conflict, remained resolute. "Forgive me, bhai. I won't change my decision. This is the punishment for what he did. I am sorry, bhai," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Virat sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken disappointment. As he and Rohit made their way to the door, Virat left Shahneel with a parting reminder. "Shahneel, remember one thing. Shubman loves you very much. He is your brother."

With those final words, Virat and Rohit departed, leaving Shahneel alone with the echo of their conversation. The door closed with a soft click, and Shahneel was left to contemplate the gravity of Virat's words, which replayed in her mind like a haunting melody.

The dining area was a tableau of quiet anticipation, the air thick with the scent of victory and the unspoken worries of the heart. Shreyas, with a cautious optimism, relayed the news that Virat bhai and Rohit bhai had ventured out to speak with Shahneel di, in hopes of mending the rift that had formed. A fragile hope blossomed within me, delicate as the steam rising from our cups.

Their return was marked by a silence that spoke volumes, and I found myself asking, "What happened, bhai? Did di agree?" The exchange of glances between Rohit bhai and Virat bhai was a prelude to the disappointment that was about to unfold. Rohit bhai's hesitation was the harbinger of the news I dreaded yet expected. "Um...Shub..." he began, and my heart sank.

With a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes, I probed further, "She didn't agree, right?" The nod from Virat bhai confirmed my fears. "It's okay, bhai. I never expected it," I lied, a facade to mask the crumbling of my hopes. Excusing myself, I retreated to the solitude of my room, where the tears I had fought so valiantly betrayed me, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.

In the quiet of my room, I sought refuge in the pages of my diary, pouring my heart out onto the paper, seeking solace in the written word.

The ring of my phone broke the silence, and Sara's voice came through, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of my emotions. "Hey baby! You played so well," she praised, her words a balm to my bruised spirit.

"Thank you, baby," I replied, the endearment a whisper of normalcy. But Sara, ever perceptive, sensed the undercurrent of distress. "What happened? Everything all right?" she asked, her intuition piercing through my defenses.

"I am fine," I said, the lie a poor shield against her concern. "Shub, stop lying and tell me," she insisted, and the floodgates opened. I confided in her, and her reassurance was unwavering. "Shub, she is also human, and I know she cannot live without you. I am a hundred percent sure."

Her faith was a beacon, yet I remained adrift. "We'll see, Sara. Anyway, I am going back to India tomorrow," I told her, the distance a looming specter between us.

"I know, and I will miss you a lot. Call me frequently," she said, her voice laced with the ache of impending separation.

"Of course, baby, I will call you. Are you coming to the airport tomorrow?" I asked, clinging to the promise of one last meeting.

"Of course," she affirmed, and we continued to talk, her presence a comfort even through the phone.

Eventually, we said our goodbyes, and I set about packing my belongings, each item a reminder of the time spent and the memories made. Clad in my pyjamas, I lay down, surrendering to the embrace of sleep, unaware of when it claimed me, a gentle reprieve from the day's emotional toll.