The alarm blared through the quiet room. A finger groggily slid up and tapped the dismiss button. The young lad from Punjab slowly opened one eye, glancing out of the window to see the sun rising gently on the horizon. A lazy smile spread across his face as he thought about the day ahead—just 10 runs away from a double ton and so close to leading his team to victory.

He rolled onto his back, stretching his arms above his head and his legs downward. Then, in an exaggerated motion, he moved his arms and legs in opposite directions, letting out a loud, strange noise as if to chase away the last remnants of sleep.

He turned around to see his best friend still asleep, mouth wide open. He groaned as he got up—despite all the noise, the pig hadn't woken up yet. Ishan always stayed up late watching movies, and that too without headphones, ruining his sleep.

Grabbing a pillow, he smacked it against Ishan’s face. "Get up, Ishan!" he called out.

Ishan just hummed in response, barely stirring. Shaking his head in frustration, he grabbed his towel and warned him one more time before heading toward the bathroom. "I want you up before I get out of the bath."

Hanging the towel on the stand, he removed his shirt and shorts, placing them next to the towel before stepping into the shower. He turned on the cold water—yes, a cold shower, no matter the time of year. Cold showers were his go-to ritual in the mornings. He sighed as the icy water hit his skin, awakening every cell in his body.

But today, something felt different. His heartbeat wasn’t normal. It started racing—not in a bad way, but enough to make him wonder what was happening. He found himself overthinking as he leaned against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart, staring down at the tiled floor. But nothing worked.

Finally, he turned off the cold water and switched to hot. Instantly, the warmth relaxed him. It was strange—cold showers were usually his calming therapy, but today, they had failed him. Weird, right?

Shaking his head, he let his thoughts drift away, along with a few droplets of water that splashed against the wall beside him.

He let out quick breaths through his mouth, composing himself.

Stepping out of the shower, he ignored the racing heartbeats he’d experienced earlier. Instead, he crumpled his clothes into a ball and threw them at his best friend.

“Get up, you pig!” he shouted.

Startled, Ishan jumped up, looking around to see Shubman standing angrily. He waved dismissively, ready to go back to sleep. But before he could settle, Shubman yanked him from his bed and shoved him into the bathroom. Ishan, still groggy and with blurred vision, found himself under the shower as it turned on.

“I don’t trust you. I might find you sleeping here again, so take a quick shower and get your ass out,” Shubman said firmly.

Ishan groaned, “My clothes are wet now, and this Delhi rain won’t let them dry.”

“I don’t care,” Shubman replied. “You deserve it for ruining my sleep last night.” He slammed the door and walked out.

The day started in chaos. Ishan, fuming from the cold shower, emerged in a bad mood. Determined to get back at his best friend, he found Shubman, who was finally ready for the day, and quickly pinned him to the bed. With a grin, Ishan tangled Shubman in the sheets, leaving him struggling. As Ishan walked out, Shubman’s shouts for help echoed behind him.

“You little Chihuahua, you won’t get away with this!” Shubman shouted, wriggling his way out of the tangled sheets.

That’s how Shubman Gill’s day on tours began—fighting with his best friend to ensure he had a great innings. The two often playfully squabbled as a sort of good luck charm. Later that day, Shubman scored a double century, leading his team to victory. His best friend was the first to jump into his arms, grinning.

“Well, my darling, I’m your lucky charm,” he said with a wink.

Shubman set him down and rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t take all the credit yourself.”

“Well, let me have it,” he said dramatically, falling into a nearby chair. “Soon your lovely wife will be taking the credit.”

Shubman scoffed as he sat down next to him, packing his kit. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“The heartthrob of the girls, and yet you’re so keen on avoiding a relationship? Why?” Ishan asked, flailing his hands in exasperation.

“Listen to me,” Shubman said, looking directly into Ishan’s eyes. “This is the first and last time I’m going to tell you, man: I’m not interested or ready to deal with a woman’s drama or to pamper anyone. You need to get that in your mind.”

As he stood up and slung his kit bag over his shoulder, Ishan shouted, “And what if the right one is standing right in front of you, her eyes pulling you in? Will you still deny it?”

Shubman turned around, his face expressionless, and said, “Then I would ignore her until the last cell in my body because Shubman Gill is not ready for any relationship right now.”

Ishan was about to retaliate when a voice interrupted him. “Boys, there’s game night and dinner at my house tonight. Be there,” Virat said, patting Ishan on the back and smiling, his eyes fixed on Shubman to ensure he was included.

“Sure, paaji,” Ishan replied through gritted teeth, his anger toward Shubman evident. He avoided looking directly at Virat, trying to hide the tension.

Virat raised an eyebrow, noticing the strained atmosphere. “Everything okay between you two lovers?” he asked, his concern evident as he observed the bubbling tension in the room.

Shubman nodded, forcing a smile that Virat chose to ignore. Virat, knowing that these two could never stay angry with each other for long, was convinced everything would be fine.

Would tonight's game night change everything for the better, or would it only deepen Shubman's disdain for relationships? The night ahead held uncertainty—perhaps it would be a turning point, or maybe it would reinforce his resolve to keep love at arm’s length.