Ishan huffed, tugging at the hem of his shirt, attempting to straighten the creases. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply once more—determined to make sure Shubman knew he was upset. Shubman, standing by the mirror, narrowed his eyes, observing Ishan from the corner of his eye. He caught Ishan sneaking glances, clearly checking if his frustration was being noticed.

"Will you stop acting like a drama queen?" Shubman sighed, rolling his eyes as he picked up the perfume and spritzed it over his shirt, completely unbothered by Ishan's theatrics.

Ishan bit his lip, ignoring Shubman's remark as he ran his nails over his beard, clearly unamused by the response he received. Shubman closed his eyes and sighed again, this time louder. "Okay, fine. I'll be the bigger person and ask for forgiveness. I'm sorry, alright?" he said, stressing the word.

Ishan poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, not bothering to reply. Instead, he grabbed his wallet and phone, then waltzed out the door without another word.

Shubman banged the bottom of the perfume bottle against the table—not too hard, but enough to release his frustration. "Nautanki," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at Ishan's dramatic exit.

The whole team could sense the tension. It was impossible to miss after the fight. Watching both best friends head toward different cars to go to the same place was strange and unsettling. It was rare to see them acting so coldly toward each other—normally, they were inseparable, practically glued together like twins or a couple during tours. When things went south between them, it was an uncomfortable sight for everyone.

When everyone arrived at Virat's house for dinner, he pulled both of them aside. "What's going on between you two?" he asked, observing their faces, which were intentionally avoiding eye contact with each other.

Ishan, clearly bored, said, "Bhaiya, he needs to get his act together and stop being so stubborn."

Shubman scowled, turning his face with a tight jaw. "What act, huh? I just said I'm not ready for a relationship right now."

Ishan growled, "Oh, really? When the timing is right for you, you'll still push it away? Oh, darling, sorry if I'm actually caring for my best friend."

"You chih—" Shubman was about to retaliate with words, ready for a heated exchange, but Virat intervened. "Stop it, you two. Once you're inside this house, I want peace and no drama. My kids are in there; they watch enough cartoons already—they don't need a soap opera on top of that."

Ishan took deep breaths dramatically, nodded, and said, "Sure, bhaiya," before moving inside without looking at Shubman. Virat sighed at the young man and then turned to Shubman, who huffed in frustration. "With a dramatic best friend like him, why would you even need a girlfriend?" Virat laughed out loud, finding the situation amusing.

Shubman closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself before breaking into a smile. Looking at Virat, he said, "Don't worry, paaji. He'll come around." His gaze drifted toward the door where his friend had disappeared into the house, knowing deep down that Ishan wouldn't be able to stay away from him for long.

"Come on now," Virat said, patting Shubman on the back and leading him into the house. Shubman smiled and moved forward, but as soon as he took his first step inside, his heart began to race, just like it had that morning. He stopped for a moment, trying to understand the feeling, when Virat called out, "Hey, What happened? Come in."

Startled, Shubman looked up, shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and walked toward Virat.

Virat's smile widened as he guided Shubman into the house, unknowingly ushering in the very remedy needed to lift the room's shadowy gloom.

Throughout the evening, Shubman felt a different rhythm in his heart. Even though it was a pleasant feeling, he found himself overthinking because the sensation had intensified since entering the house. Needing a moment to himself before the games began after dinner, he leaned toward Virat and asked, "Paaji, where is the restroom?"

Virat quickly instructed, "Upstairs, towards the right, third door," before turning back to rejoin the conversation.

Shubman nodded quickly, rushing upstairs to find some solitude. Once he opened the door to the restroom, he leaned against it and closed it behind him. He then leaned over the sink, breathing heavily as he tried to steady his racing heart.

Shubman stared at himself in the mirror and muttered, "What the hell is wrong? Even though it's a good feeling, why is it so overwhelming?"

He turned on the tap, breathing through his mouth, his teeth biting his tongue. Leaning down, he splashed water on his face, taking a moment to breathe before splashing again.

Shubman continued to splash water on his face, the coolness helping to ground him. He took deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. As the water dripped from his chin, he looked up at his reflection, searching for answers in his own eyes.

After a few more splashes, he straightened up and wiped his face with a towel, feeling slightly more composed. He took one last deep breath, gathering his thoughts before heading back downstairs, determined to enjoy the evening despite the unsettling feelings he couldn't fully understand.

Shubman wiped his hands on a handkerchief, ready to head downstairs and join the team for game night. Their voices carried up from below, loud and full of energy as they argued over teams. But as his foot hovered over the first step, he heard it—a faint creaking sound coming from the far end of the hallway. It stood out, even through the noise from the others."Weird, isn't it?" he thought.

His eyes drifted toward the sound, hesitation creeping in. Should he check it out? He glanced back, contemplating for a moment, then shook his head. Probably nothing. He stepped down, but as his foot touched the next stair, his heart suddenly hammered against his chest. He froze, inexplicably pulled away from whatever was lurking in that shadowy end of the hall.

Biting his tongue, he cast a nervous glance back up at the hallway. His heart was pounding, his breaths shallow. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the feeling, but when he opened them again, it was like a surge of energy had rushed through him. Determination—or maybe fear—pushed him forward.

With sudden force, he bolted down the hallway, his footsteps quick and heavy, his mind set on just getting this over with. Just a quick check, he told himself, and then I'll be back downstairs with the others. The creaking sound grew louder with every step as he approached the darkened end of the hallway, tension building in his chest.

He found the door at the end of the hallway, his hand trembling as he reached for the knob. With a forceful twist, he flung it open, the thud echoing through the walls. For a moment, he panicked, wondering if anyone downstairs had heard it, but it seemed like the noise was lost in the commotion below.

He gasped when the woman turned her head toward him, her eyes locking with his. She didn't speak—just stared at him with an unsettling calmness. His throat tightened, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was a shaky whisper, "Never knew her before..."