The warm glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a cozy amber light as Tara lay stretched out on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs.

A hardcover novel rested in her hands, its well-worn spine a testament to how often she returned to the comfort of her favorite books.

The sound of pages flipping mixed with the muffled hum of distant traffic outside her window, creating a soothing rhythm that had become her sanctuary.

For the first time in days, Tara felt truly at ease. The emotions and turbulence of the past week had settled, leaving her to enjoy the solitude of her own company.

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table, its screen glowing against the soft lighting of the room. Tara reached for it lazily, smiling when she saw Hardik Pandya's name flashing on the screen.

Hardik
Party in the lounge tonight. Don't even think about saying no. Be there in 30.

Tara smirked, shaking her head.

Tara
Why don't you ever let me enjoy my peace?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for her response.

Hardik
Because peace is overrated. You need some chaos in your life. Get dressed. You've got 29 minutes now.

Tara let out a small laugh, closing her book and placing it on the side table. Hardik's relentless enthusiasm was impossible to resist, and deep down, she was grateful for it.

"Fine, Pandya," she muttered under her breath, heading toward her suitcase to pick an outfit.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The hotel lounge buzzed with music, laughter, and the faint clinking of glasses as Tara stepped through the entrance.

The lively atmosphere hit her immediately, pulling her out of her earlier tranquility.

She had chosen a simple yet elegant black dress for the evening, the sleek fabric hugging her figure perfectly.

The way it draped along her curves gave her an effortless allure, the hem just brushing her knees.

Strappy gold heels added a touch of sophistication, accentuating her long legs and giving her steps a confident, graceful rhythm.

Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, glinting softly under the warm lights of the room.

A natural glow seemed to radiate from her, the result of subtly applied makeup that highlighted her high cheekbones and accentuated her striking eyes.

A delicate gold necklace rested against her collarbone, paired with matching earrings that swayed gently with each movement.

Tara walked with a quiet confidence, her posture straight, her head held high.

She wasn't oblivious to the glances sent her way-the way conversations momentarily paused as people noticed her-but she gave no indication that she cared.

Her expression was calm yet engaging, her faint smile carrying just the right hint of mystery.

She didn't demand attention; it simply followed her, as though the room itself gravitated toward her presence.

Tara had a way of standing out without trying, a natural elegance that made it impossible not to look her way.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

From the far end of the room, Shubman Gill's eyes were drawn to her instantly.

He had been standing near the drinks table, holding a casual conversation with Ishan about fielding tactics and the day's match, but his words trailed off as his gaze locked on her.

His breath caught momentarily. She was radiant, her black dress hugging her figure perfectly, the subtle sway of her movements effortlessly commanding attention.

The way she carried herself, with a quiet elegance that seemed so at odds with the loud chaos of the party, had him rooted in place. She wasn't trying to stand out, but she did anyway.

"Gill," Ishan said, his voice tinged with amusement as he nudged him with a playful grin. "You're staring. Hard."

Shubman blinked, tearing his gaze away from Tara as if caught in the act. "I'm not staring," he said defensively, taking a sip from his glass in an attempt to mask his reaction.

"Sure you're not," Ishan teased, his smirk widening. "It's not like you just ignored half of what I was saying because you couldn't take your eyes off her."

"I was listening," Shubman muttered, though he knew it wasn't true.

"Right. Listen, man, I'm just saying-she's Matt's fiancée, yeah, but she's also hard not to notice."

Ishan leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But if you keep looking at her like that, the whole room's going to notice."

Shubman shook his head, his jaw tightening slightly. "I'm not looking at her any kind of way. She's just... dressed differently tonight. It stands out."

"Uh-huh," Ishan replied, clearly unconvinced.

Despite himself, Shubman's eyes flickered back toward Tara.

She was now standing with a group of Matt's teammates, laughing at something one of them had said.

Her smile was wide and genuine, lighting up her face in a way that felt unguarded, natural.

Shubman felt his chest tighten. It wasn't just her appearance-it was the way she seemed to draw people in, making them feel at ease, even in a room as lively as this one.

"Gill, buddy," Ishan interrupted again, his grin now teasing in earnest.

"You keep sipping your drink like that, you're going to run out before you even get halfway through the conversation."

Shubman finally let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he looked away for good this time-or so he told himself.

"She's Matt's," Shubman said firmly, as if repeating it out loud would quell the strange pang in his chest.

Ishan shrugged, raising his own glass. "Sure, sure. But even you can't deny-she looks amazing tonight."

Shubman didn't reply, taking another sip of his drink instead, though his grip on the glass tightened ever so slightly.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Tara made her way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces from both teams.

When she reached a cluster of New Zealand players, including Matt, she felt a wave of ease wash over her.

These were her people-the ones who had been a part of her life for years.

"Tara!" Devon Conway exclaimed, his expression brightening when he saw her. "It's been ages. How've you been?"

"Busy," Tara replied with a laugh. "You know how it is."

"Busy making us look good," another teammate chimed in, gesturing toward the Indian team's jerseys. "Those designs are incredible, by the way."

"Thanks," Tara said, her cheeks warming slightly. "It's been a fun project."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, and Tara found herself laughing at their jokes, the tension of the past week melting away.

"You're going to need a drink for this conversation," Matt said, appearing beside her with a tray of tequila shots.

Tara raised an eyebrow at him. "Really, Matt? Shots?"

"Come on," he said, his grin mischievous. "You can't say no to me."

She sighed, shaking her head but reaching for a glass. "Fine. Just one."

"That's the spirit," Matt replied, raising his glass. "Cheers!"

The tequila burned as it went down, but the warmth that followed was welcome. Before Tara knew it, she was doing another round, and then another.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Eventually, Matt got pulled away by his teammates, leaving Tara at the bar. She leaned against the counter, trying to steady herself as the alcohol began to hit her.

"Need another drink, beautiful?"

The voice came from a waiter standing nearby, his tone overly familiar. Tara looked up, her frown immediate.

"No, thanks," she said firmly.

"Aw, don't be like that," he continued, leaning closer than necessary. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"I said no," Tara repeated, her voice steady despite her spinning head.

But the waiter didn't back off. Instead, he placed a hand on her arm, his fingers lingering inappropriately.

"You sure? I've got something special I can get for you," he said, his smile turning sleazy.

"Let go of me," Tara snapped, her voice louder now, drawing the attention of those nearby.

Before she could say more, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Is there a problem here?"

Shubman appeared beside her, his face set in a controlled fury as he stepped between Tara and the waiter.

The waiter smirked, clearly unfazed. "No problem. Just being friendly."

"It doesn't look like she wants your kind of friendly," Shubman said, his voice low but menacing.

The waiter opened his mouth to argue, but Shubman didn't give him the chance. In a swift motion, he shoved the man back, the force sending him stumbling into the bar counter.

"Touch her again, and I'll make sure you regret it," Shubman said, his tone ice-cold.

The man muttered something under his breath and backed off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Tara, are you okay?" Shubman asked, turning to her, his expression softening immediately.

Tara nodded, though her hands trembled slightly. "I'm fine. Just... shaken."

Shubman placed a gentle hand on her arm, his touch grounding her. "Come on, let's get you some water."

He guided her to a quieter corner of the lounge, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter.

"Drink," he said softly, holding the glass out to her.

Tara obeyed, taking small sips as she felt the adrenaline slowly leave her system. "Thank you, Shubman," she murmured.

"You don't have to thank me," he replied. "Just... be careful, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, the noise of the party faded, leaving only the unspoken understanding between them.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

The tequila shots caught up with Tara quickly. By the time the party started winding down, she was giggling uncontrollably at every little thing, her movements unsteady.

Matt, also tipsy, took her by the arm, his grin matching hers. "Come on, let's get you to bed before you embarrass yourself."

"I'm not embarrassed," Tara said, stumbling slightly as they walked through the hallway. "You're embarrassed!"

Matt laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

They stopped halfway down the corridor, Tara turning to face him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Remember when we used to sneak out of practice to get ice cream?"

Matt chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Of course I do. You always got pistachio, and I hated it."

"I still do," she said, stepping closer. "But you loved it back then. You always said it was your favorite."

"I was lying," Matt admitted, his voice soft. "I just wanted to make you happy."

Tara's laughter faded, replaced by something more intense. She reached up, cupping his face as she closed the distance between them.

"Matt," she whispered before pressing her lips to his.

The kiss started slow, almost hesitant, as if Tara and Matt were both testing the waters.

But the moment Tara's fingers brushed against Matt's jawline, something shifted.

Matt's hands found her waist, gripping her tightly as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both familiar and electric.

Tara's fingers tangled in his hair, her movements growing bolder, fueled by the alcohol coursing through her veins and the flood of emotions she couldn't quite name.

Matt's lips moved hungrily against hers, his breath warm and unsteady as he deepened the kiss.

The hallway around them seemed to blur, the distant echoes of laughter and footsteps fading into nothingness.

All that mattered was the heat of the moment-the shared urgency between them that felt as though it had been simmering for weeks, if not longer.

"Tara," Matt murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're going to drive me crazy."

She let out a breathless laugh, her lips brushing his again. "Good."

Matt's hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her even closer as his other hand trailed up her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Tara gasped softly at the contact, her knees threatening to give way as the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate.

"Your room," Matt said again, his voice low and urgent, breaking through the haze.

Tara nodded, her fingers still clutching the front of his shirt as she took a shaky step back. She tugged him toward her room, their movements clumsy but filled with laughter.

They stumbled down the hallway, bumping into the wall at one point, but neither seemed to care.

Matt's hands never left her, steadying her when she stumbled, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

Tara couldn't stop giggling, the combination of alcohol and adrenaline making her feel lighter than she had in months.

"You're impossible," Matt teased, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

"And you're irresistible," Tara shot back, spinning around suddenly and pinning him against the wall.

Matt's eyes darkened, his hands sliding up to cup her face as he captured her lips again.

This kiss was rougher, more fervent, as though they were both trying to make up for all the moments they had lost.

Tara melted into him, her hands roaming over his shoulders, down his chest, memorizing the feel of him.

"You're going to kill me," Matt muttered, his voice breathless as he broke the kiss for just a second before pulling her back in.

They finally reached her room, and Tara fumbled with the keycard, her laughter spilling out as Matt wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his lips grazing her neck.

"Matt, stop," she said, though her tone held no real conviction.

"Can't," he replied, his grin evident in his voice.

The door finally clicked open, and they stumbled inside, the air between them charged. Matt kicked the door shut behind them, silencing the world outside.

Tara turned to face him, her back against the door as she hands found he him closer. Matt's Lifting her slightly as he leaned in, his kisses trailing down her jawline to her collarbone.

"God, Tara," he murmured, his voice heavy with longing. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Her fingers curled into his hair, her breath hitching as she tilted her head back to give him better access. "Show me," she whispered, her voice daring and soft all at once.

Matt obliged, his lips reclaiming hers as he guided her further into the room.

They barely made it to the couch before he pulled her onto his lap, their movements growing more urgent, more chaotic.

Tara's hands roamed his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers as Matt's lips found her shoulder, his touch setting her skin alight.

"Tara," he said again, his tone softer this time, filled with something deeper than just desire.

Matt obliged, his lips reclaiming hers as he guided her further into the room.

They barely made it to the couch before he pulled her onto his lap, their movements growing more urgent, more chaotic.

Tara's hands roamed his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers as Matt's lips found her shoulder, his touch setting her skin alight.

"Tara," he said again, his tone softer this time, filled with something deeper than just desire.

She paused, her forehead resting against his as she tried to catch her breath.

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the intensity between them shifted into something else-something raw and unspoken.

But before either of them could say a word, Tara leaned in again, kissing him with renewed fervor, her mind refusing to let the moment slow down.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Unbeknownst to them, Shubman had seen the entire thing from the lounge's entrance.

He had been on his way back to his room when the sound of their laughter drew his attention.

His chest tightened as he watched Tara pull Matt down the hallway, her smile wide and carefree, her hand clasped tightly in his.

Matt leaned in, kissing her with a hunger that made Shubman's stomach twist.

He stood frozen, his jaw clenching at the sight of their intimacy, each moment playing out like a scene he couldn't look away from but wished he could unsee.

He didn't understand why it bothered him so much. Tara was with Matt-they had a history, a bond forged over years that Shubman had no place in.

And yet, watching them together, watching Matt pull Tara into her room with such ease, left a pang of jealousy burning in his chest.

It wasn't just jealousy; it was something deeper, something he couldn't quite name.

His mind replayed every fleeting moment he had shared with Tara-the way she had laughed with him, the way her eyes softened when she let her guard down, and the way his heart seemed to react to her presence before his brain could catch up.

Shubman exhaled sharply, forcing himself to turn away and head back to his room.

But even as he walked, the image of Tara and Matt together lingered, haunting him long after the hallway fell silent.

Inside his room, Shubman sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall as his thoughts spiraled.

He didn't know what was more unsettling-the fact that he felt something for Tara or the realization that he might have been too late to act on it.