The morning sun streamed through the practice nets, casting shifting patterns on the turf as Shubman Gill swung his bat in deliberate, fluid movements.

The satisfying crack of willow meeting leather echoed around the field, but his focus wavered, his mind elsewhere.

The night before replayed in his head on a relentless loop. He’d seen them—Tara and Matt.

Their laughter, their closeness, the way they disappeared down the hallway with Tara’s hand clasped tightly in Matt’s.

Shubman had tried to rationalize the pang in his chest, telling himself it was just a passing frustration. But he knew better.

He was jealous.

It was the kind of jealousy that seeped into the corners of his thoughts and refused to leave.

Tara wasn’t his—she was Matt’s fiancée, tied to the New Zealand bowler by a history that Shubman couldn’t compete with.

And yet, somewhere along the way, without realizing it, he’d started to feel something for her.

Shubman swung again, harder this time, the ball ricocheting off the net.

“Focus, Gill!” Rohit Sharma called from behind him, his voice carrying a playful edge but laced with authority.

Shubman turned, his lips curving into an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Rohit Bhai.”

Rohit sauntered over, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Shubman’s face. “You’ve been distracted since this morning. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Shubman replied too quickly, shaking his head.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” Rohit said, crossing his arms. “You’ve been off your game since last night. Something’s clearly bothering you.”

Shubman hesitated, glancing at the ground. He wanted to brush it off, to claim it was just fatigue or nerves, but Rohit’s perceptive gaze made lying impossible.

“It’s... complicated,” Shubman admitted finally, his voice low.

Rohit raised an eyebrow, leaning on his bat. “Complicated, huh? Does it have anything to do with a certain designer who’s been hanging around the team?”

Shubman’s head shot up, his expression startled. “What? No, I mean—why would you say that?”

Rohit smirked knowingly. “Gill, I might be older, but I’m not blind. The way you look at her, the way your mood shifts whenever she’s around... it’s obvious, at least to me.”

Shubman opened his mouth to protest but closed it just as quickly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter, Rohit Bhai. She’s with Matt.”

Rohit nodded, his expression softening. “I get it. But you need to figure out what you’re feeling. Otherwise, it’s going to eat you alive.”

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

As the practice session wore on, Shubman tried to push his thoughts aside, throwing himself into the drills with renewed vigor.

Hardik Pandya’s teasing kept the mood light, while Yashasvi Jaiswal’s infectious energy lifted the entire team.

But even as Shubman laughed at their antics and nodded along to Ishan Kishan’s over-the-top jokes, his gaze occasionally drifted to the sidelines where Tara sat with her camera.

She was focused, her brow furrowed slightly as she adjusted the lens to capture the perfect shot.

She looked beautiful—not just in the way her hair framed her face or the way her lips curved into a thoughtful pout when she reviewed her photos.

There was something about her presence that drew people in, something warm and grounding.

Shubman exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the field.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

Later that afternoon, Shubman retreated to his room, hoping the solitude would help clear his head.

He threw himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of his thoughts pressed down on him.

He thought about the first time he had met Tara, the way she had collided with him in the BCCI headquarters, utterly unaware of who he was.

She had been flustered yet composed, her sharp wit catching him off guard.

And then there was the plane ride to New Zealand—the way her eyes had softened during their conversation, the genuine vulnerability she had shown when she spoke about her struggles with Matt.

Shubman groaned, covering his face with a pillow. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it, his heart skipping slightly when he saw Hardik’s name on the screen.

Rohit bhai
Team dinner tonight. Don’t skip. Also, stop brooding. It’s not a good look on you.

Shubman rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at his lips. Hardik had a way of knowing exactly what everyone needed, even when they didn’t.

Shubman
Not brooding. Just tired.

Rohit bhai
Yeah, sure. See you at 7.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

By the time the team gathered for dinner, the lounge was buzzing with energy.

Plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around as the players joked and laughed, the camaraderie easing the tension of the day.

Shubman sat at the far end of the table, quietly observing the scene around him.

He was content to let the others dominate the conversation, though his attention kept drifting to Tara.

She was seated with Ishan and Siraj, laughing at something one of them had said.

Her smile was wide and unguarded, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned back in her chair.

Shubman’s chest tightened. He didn’t just admire her beauty—he admired the way she carried herself, the way she could blend seamlessly into any group and make people feel at ease.

Hardik’s voice broke into his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

“Gill, you’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Hardik said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Shubman replied quickly, taking a sip of his water.

Hardik smirked, leaning closer. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know. Want to talk about it?”

Shubman hesitated, glancing at Tara briefly before shaking his head. “Not here.”

Hardik followed his gaze, his smirk growing. “Ah. Got it.”

Shubman groaned. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Hardik said, winking.

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

As the night wore on, Shubman found himself retreating to the balcony for some fresh air. The cool breeze brushed against his skin as he leaned on the railing, his thoughts swirling.

He wasn’t sure when Tara had become such a significant presence in his mind.

All he knew was that he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was someone he wanted to understand, to be closer to—someone who made him feel more grounded in a world that often felt chaotic.

But she wasn’t his to feel this way about.

The door to the balcony creaked open, and Shubman turned to see Tara stepping outside. She froze when she saw him, her eyes widening slightly.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

“It’s fine,” Shubman replied, stepping aside to give her space.

She joined him at the railing, her gaze fixed on the city lights below. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them surprisingly comfortable.

“You played well today,” Tara said finally, her voice soft.

“Thanks,” Shubman replied, glancing at her. “You seemed busy with the camera.”

“It’s a good distraction,” she admitted, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Shubman hesitated before asking, “From what?”

Tara looked at him, her eyes searching his face as though debating whether to answer. “Everything,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shubman nodded, his chest tightening at the vulnerability in her tone.

He wanted to say something—to offer her comfort or reassurance—but the words escaped him.

Instead, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them.

For Shubman, it was enough to be near her, even if she could never be his.