The morning sun had already climbed high into the sky by the time I awoke, its rays casting a warm glow across my room. I glanced at the clock and my eyes widened in alarm—it was 9:30 AM. "Oh no, I'm dreadfully late!" I gasped, leaping out of bed with a sense of urgency that set my heart pounding. I hurried to the washroom, where the cool water revitalized my senses, washing away the remnants of sleep. The shower's cascade was a refreshing symphony, and I emerged feeling renewed and eager to start the day.

I approached my wardrobe with purpose, selecting a black, short-sleeved top that was the epitome of chic versatility. It was the kind of top that could effortlessly transition from casual to formal with the right accessories. My blue jeans, artfully ripped at the knees, added a dash of rebellious charm to my outfit. A delicate bracelet encircled my left wrist, its understated elegance the perfect complement to my attire. My white sneakers, adorned with subtle designs, whispered promises of both comfort and style for the day ahead.

I made my way to my car, the familiar hum of the engine a comforting sound. As I drove towards the cafe, thoughts of meeting Aditi filled me with a blend of excitement and warmth. "How does she manage to be so punctual?" I wondered with a hint of envy. Yet, the sight of her waiting there washed away any feelings of irritation. After all, it had been ages since we last met. Our embrace was a testament to the depth of our friendship, a bond that time could never diminish.

As we settled into the cozy ambiance of the cafe, catching up on lost time, my attention was drawn to a solitary figure in a black hoodie, his posture one of utter dejection, his coffee untouched. "Who comes to a cafe only to fall asleep?" I mused aloud, my voice tinged with curiosity. Aditi's reply came with a note of concern, "I don't think he's sleeping, Sara."

Compelled by a mix of concern and intrigue, I approached the stranger, gently tapping his shoulder. He lifted his head, his voice rough with fatigue or perhaps sorrow, "Yes?" My question about his unusual choice of a napping spot was met with a weary request for solitude. As he gathered his belongings and departed, I couldn't help but frown, pondering the story behind his troubled demeanor. Aditi could only offer a shrug in response, the mystery of the man in the hoodie remaining unsolved.

Our day continued with a shopping escapade, laughter echoing through the mall as we indulged in retail therapy. I found the perfect dress for Virat bhaiyya's upcoming party—a stunning piece that promised to turn heads.

As evening approached, I returned home to my father's gentle prodding, "Sara, we mustn't be late." "Just a moment, Papa," I replied, my voice a blend of eagerness and nerves.

In the sanctuary of my room, I slipped into a mustard-colored dress that seemed to capture the essence of the setting sun. Its ruched design added texture and depth, while the off-shoulder cut and long sleeves created a silhouette that was both elegant and alluring. My hair, now styled into an elegant bun, and the carefully applied makeup, were the final touches to a look that was nothing short of stunning. "Oh, Sara, must you always be your own biggest fan?" I chided myself with a playful roll of my eyes.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow through the windows, I descended the staircase. My mother's eyes met mine, and in them, I saw a reflection of pride and affection. "Looking beautiful, my child," she said, her voice a soft melody that filled the room. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a bloom of happiness in my heart. "Thanks, Mumma," I replied, the gratitude in my voice mirroring the warmth in her eyes.

The family gathered, a small unit of togetherness, as we made our way to the car. Arjun, with his usual confidence, took the driver's seat, while I settled beside him, the world outside our window waiting to be explored. Papa and Mumma found their places in the back, their presence a comforting constant.

Arjun's hands were steady on the wheel as he navigated the streets towards Virat bhaiyya's abode. The journey was short, and soon the familiar facade of his house greeted us. It was a gathering of stars, the cricket team assembled in camaraderie and laughter. Stepping inside, I caught sight of Virat and approached him with a smile. "Hi Virat bhaiyya," I greeted.

He turned, his face lighting up with recognition. "Hey Sara! How are you?" he asked, his voice carrying the ease of long-standing friendship. "I am fine, bhaiyya. How about you?" I inquired, genuinely interested. "I am absolutely fine," he assured me, just before being whisked away by someone's call. Left to my own devices, I felt a twinge of boredom creeping in.

Seeking company, I found Arjun, the one person in this sea of faces I truly knew. A gentle pat on his shoulder, and I expressed my ennui, "Arjun, I am bored."

He glanced at me, a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on, let's join my friends," he suggested. My voice took on a pleading tone, one that even Papa couldn't resist. "Can I join you?" I asked. With a nod, Arjun led the way.

We were greeted by the youthful exuberance of the team's younger members. Ishan Kishan's voice rang out, teasingly, "Oyyee, the prince has arrived." His words were a familiar jest, one that brought a smile to my face. I knew him well; after all, he played for MI.

Arjun's response was a mix of mock annoyance and brotherly affection. "Shut up, man," he retorted, before warmly greeting everyone. His next question piqued my curiosity. "Ishan, where is Shub?" The air shifted slightly as Ishan sighed, "He's on the terrace." Arjun's concern was palpable. "Same condition?" he asked. I stored away these snippets of conversation, a mental note to catch up with Arjun later.

Ishan's gaze found me, and he asked, "You're Sara, right?" I nodded, and he introduced himself. "I am Ishan."

"Hello Ishan," I replied, the beginnings of a new acquaintance forming. Arjun excused himself, and Ishan extended an invitation. "Want to come to the terrace with me?"

Driven by curiosity, I questioned, "Why?" Ishan's reply was simple. "My best friend is there, and it's dinner time." I agreed, and together we ascended to the terrace.

There, a figure stood, his back to us, a solitary silhouette against the twilight sky. Ishan approached him, breaking the silence. "Shub, Virat bhai is calling for dinner." The man turned, and recognition dawned on me. I had seen him before, during matches with Papa.

"Who are you?" he asked, his question catching me off guard. I was known in these circles, yet here I was, needing to introduce myself. "My name is Sara," I said. "I am Shubman," he replied, a light smile gracing his features before he departed.

Back downstairs, I rejoined my parents, observing Shubman's quiet demeanor. He sat, untouched food before him, lost in thought. Papa's voice broke the silence. "Shubman, why aren't you eating?" His reply was soft. "I am not hungry, sir." Moments later, he excused himself, leaving the gathering with a polite farewell.

His behavior intrigued me, so out of place in the lively atmosphere. Yet, I focused on my meal, the flavors a distraction from the questions in my mind.

Dinner came to a close, and as we prepared to leave, I sought out Ishan. "Ish, what's your best friend's name?" I asked. "Shubman Gill," he answered. A plan formed in my mind; a little harmless curiosity never hurt anyone.

Back home, the comfort of my pyjamas embraced me, and my skincare routine left me feeling refreshed. Settling into bed, I opened my laptop, ready to delve into the world of Shubman Gill. A night of discovery awaited. 😁😁