Pashmina and Shubman stood against the car door, yawning as they waited for Aryaman's first day of school to end. The heavy meal had made them sleepy, but they tried to stay wide awake, eager to hear Aryaman rant about his first day.

Pashmina leaned her head against Shubman's shoulder, yawning. 'I swear, I had too much food,' she mumbled, her eyelids drooping. Shubman chuckled, nudging her lightly. 'Tell me about it. I could sleep right here.'

"But... but..." Pashmina let out a huge sigh. "We're parents, and we have to wait for Aryaman, listen to him rant about his day—with an ice cream. So, we need to shove away the sleep."

Shubman chuckled, crossing his arms as he licked his lips, probably trying to dislodge the last traces of their overindulgent meal. 'Well,' he muttered, 'guess this is what we signed up for—sleepless afternoons, exaggerated storytelling, and unlimited ice cream expenses.'

Pashmina didn't respond.

Shubman frowned, glancing at her. 'Hello? Earth to Pashmina?'

Still, no reaction. Instead, her gaze was locked on something in the distance, her expression shifting—brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed with something... was that jealousy?

Confused, Shubman followed her line of sight and quickly spotted the source of her sudden silence—a small group of women, likely other parents waiting for their kids, giggling and whispering amongst themselves as they cast not-so-subtle glances his way. One of them even tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a classic move straight out of the 'flirting for beginners' handbook.

Realization dawned on him, and a slow smirk crept onto his face. 'Wait... are you—'

'Shut up,' Pashmina muttered, folding her arms.

Shubman couldn't help but chuckle, thoroughly entertained. 'Well, well, well. Didn't know you were the jealous type.'

Pashmina scoffed, finally tearing her gaze away and glaring at him instead. 'I'm not. I just—ugh, never mind. Let's go get Aryaman before he decides we abandoned him.'

Shubman pulled Pashmina back into his arms, his hands sliding around her waist in one fluid motion. She tensed, her body momentarily rigid before she huffed, tilting her head up at him with a raised brow. 

 "Wait, woman. Let the bell ring. There are still five minutes," he murmured, his lips quirking into an infuriatingly smug grin.

Pashmina exhaled sharply. "And in those five minutes, you plan to what? To enjoy more of flirting?"  

Shubman bit his cheek, fighting back a grin as he let the moment stretch just long enough to make her squirm. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, "Well, you can't blame them. What else are they supposed to do when the Prince of Cricket is standing right in front of them?"

Pashmina looked at him in pure disbelief, her lips parting as if she had a retort ready, but instead, she just exhaled sharply, puffing out her cheeks before turning away. She didn't say a word. Not a glare, not a scoff—just silence.

Shubman blinked. Then blinked again.

"Wait—hold on. Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?" he asked, stepping beside her, tilting his head to get a glimpse of her face.

Nothing. Not even a side glance.

He let out a low whistle, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Wow. So dramatic."

Still nothing.

Shubman bit back another grin, watching her pretend he didn't exist. Oh, she was really committing to this, wasn't she? Fine. Two could play this game.

He leaned in ever so slightly, lowering his voice just enough to tickle her ear. "You know, Pashmina, ignoring me only makes you look more jealous."

Before Shubman could tease her any further, the school bell rang, its sharp chime cutting through the air.

Pashmina took a deep breath, straightening her posture, and without sparing him a single glance, she turned on her heel and walked toward the school entrance, her steps steady, deliberate—pointedly ignoring him.

Shubman chuckled under his breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he effortlessly kept up with her pace. He could see it in the way she carried herself—chin high, steps measured. She was on a mission, and he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

The moment they stepped into the classroom, Pashmina's expression smoothed into effortless grace. She extended a polite hand to the teachers, her smile perfectly poised.

"We're here for Aryaman Singh Gill"

She made sure to emphasize the surname, her voice steady, deliberate. Shubman bit back a grin, his gaze flickering briefly to the women nearby. The same ones who had been giggling and sneaking glances at him earlier.

Yeah. They'd definitely heard that.

There was a shift in the air—nothing drastic, but noticeable enough. The whispers quieted, the lingering stares softened, and one of them even adjusted the strap of her purse, suddenly finding it very interesting.

Shubman turned slightly, leaning in just enough for only Pashmina to hear. "Territorial much?" he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Pashmina didn't even flinch. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied smoothly, her eyes still fixed on the teacher.

Shubman huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. She was unbelievable. And completely, unapologetically his.

Before he could enjoy the moment any longer, the teacher smiled, ticking Aryaman's name off the list. "You can take him home," she said, gesturing toward the classroom.

Pashmina's posture relaxed ever so slightly, and she nodded, offering a polite smile in return. But Shubman caught the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes—the kind that told him she knew exactly what she had done back there.

Pashmina stepped into the classroom, her gaze immediately landing on Aryaman.

Pashmina looked at him in horror—three hours into his first day, and he already looked like he had fought a battle on the playground. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair a wild mess, and his backpack was barely hanging onto one shoulder. How would he survive full school days without looking like he'd rolled down a hill?

"Just three hours," she muttered to Shubman, disbelief heavy in her voice.

Shubman bit back a laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. "At this rate, we might need to send an extra set of clothes every day."

Pashmina sighed, shaking her head. "Or just accept that our child is chaos personified."

Before Shubman could respond, Aryaman finally noticed them. His face lit up, and within seconds, he was sprinting toward them, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement.

"Mumma! Papa! I got a bestest friend!" he squeaked, barely stopping himself from crashing into Pashmina's legs.

Pashmina steadied him, smoothing down his wild hair. "Oh? Already?" she asked, amused.

"Yes, yes! His name is Jaymeet!" Aryaman nodded so hard his backpack almost slipped off. Before either of them could respond, he turned and sprinted back toward the classroom, his tiny voice ringing out. "Jaymeet! Come come! Meet my Mumma-Papa!"

A second later, Aryaman reappeared—dragging a slightly bewildered boy behind him, gripping his wrist like a lifeline.

"Look!" Aryaman beamed, bouncing on his feet. "This is Jaymeet! He is my friend forever now!"

Pashmina raised her eyebrows, watching for a moment before shaking her head with a small sigh. "Aryaman," she said softly, but firmly, "You can't pull people around like that."

Aryaman blinked up at her, then looked at Jaymeet, suddenly realizing he was still clutching his wrist. He quickly let go, giving his friend a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Jaymeet," he mumbled, rocking on his heels.

Jaymeet shrugged, stuffing his tiny hands into his pockets. "It's okay. Aryaman runs too fast."

Shubman chuckled, crossing his arms. "Yeah, we've noticed."

Pashmina sighed, ruffling Aryaman's hair. "Alright, little tornado. Say goodbye to your friend so we can go get your ice cream."

"Wait! Meet my parents too!" Jaymeet said, tugging Aryaman back slightly.

Aryaman beamed, turning back to Jaymeet. "Where are they?"

Jaymeet turned, scanning the classroom. His face fell slightly. "They're not here yet."

Pashmina offered a reassuring smile and gently patted Jaymeet's cheek. "That's okay. We'll wait."

While they waited, Pashmina and Shubman chatted with the boys about their first day of school.

"So, how was it? Did you like your teacher?" Shubman asked.

"She's nice," Aryaman said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "She told us a story about a clever fox."

Jaymeet nodded. "And we had to draw our favorite part of it. Mine was when the fox tricked the hunter."

Pashmina smirked. "Sounds like something you'd enjoy."

"We also played a game outside," Aryaman added. "My team won!"

Jaymeet rolled his eyes. "Only because the other team forgot the rules."

Shubman chuckled. "Sounds like an eventful first day."

Aryaman suddenly looked up at Pashmina. "Mumma, we learned a new song today! Wanna hear it?"

Pashmina smiled. "Of course, let's hear it."

Just as Aryaman took a deep breath to begin, someone called for Jaymeet from the doorway. Shubman let out a small sigh of relief, which didn't go unnoticed.

Aryaman narrowed his eyes at him. "Papa, that's not nice. I really sing well."

Shubman coughed, trying to cover his amused expression. "Of course, beta. I was just—uh—preparing myself for the performance."

Pashmina placed a hand on Aryaman's shoulder and sighed dramatically. "Aryaman, did you hear that? Papa doesn't even want to listen to your song. That's so mean."

Aryaman's eyes widened as he turned to Shubman. "Papa! You're supposed to be happy when I sing, not sigh like that."

Shubman shot Pashmina a look. "Don't turn my son against me."

Pashmina shrugged. "I'm just telling him the truth."

Shubman let out a tired sigh while Aryaman crossed his arms. "Now you have to listen properly, Papa. No getting distracted."

Aryaman was just about to start singing when Jaymeet came rushing back, dragging his parents along.

Shubman was ready to exhale in relief, thinking he had escaped, but before he could, he caught Aryaman's pointed stare. The little boy stood with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a pout.

"You are listening to me in the car on the way to get ice cream," Aryaman declared firmly.

Shubman groaned, ruffling his own hair in defeat. "Fine, fine. No escape, I get it."

Pashmina smirked. "Good luck, Papa."

Shubman looked at Pashmina, clearly not impressed. "You're enjoying this way too much."

Pashmina shrugged, biting back a smile. "I mean, it's not every day I see you both not teaming up against me!"

Shubman was about to argue when Jaymeet suddenly stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "Everyone, meet my parents!" he announced proudly.

His father, a tall man with neatly combed hair, gave a warm smile, while his mother, dressed in a soft green saree, nodded kindly.

Jaymeet gestured excitedly. "This is my best friend, Aryaman! And that's his mumma and papa."

Aryaman waved. "Hi, Uncle! Hi, Aunty!"

Pashmina smiled. "It's nice to meet you both."

Jaymeet's father, however, seemed a bit starstruck as he looked at Shubman. It wasn't every day that you found yourself standing in front of a famous cricketer. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his excitement in check.

Shubman, used to such reactions, offered a polite smile. "It's good to meet you."

Jaymeet's father finally spoke. "I have to say, I never expected to meet the Shubman Gill in a school classroom. I've followed your career for years."

Jaymeet's eyes widened. "Wait, Papa, you know him?"

"Hawww," Aryaman said, looking at Jaymeet like he had just asked the silliest question in the world. He puffed up his chest proudly. "The whole world knows him! He's the star cricketer and the Prince of Cricket—Shubman Gill!"

Shubman sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "Aryaman, stop calling me that."

"But it's true!" Aryaman insisted, looking around as if expecting everyone to agree with him.

Jaymeet's father chuckled. "Well, the little guy isn't wrong. 'Prince of Cricket'—that's what the whole nation calls you, right?"

Shubman smiled politely but shook his head. "Still, outside of cricket, in my home, I prefer being just Shubman."

"Agreed," Jaymeet's father said with a nod, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, though."

Shubman took his hand with a firm shake. "Likewise, it's always good to meet fellow parents."

Aryaman leaned in close to Pashmina, his face scrunched up in a pout. "Mumma, can we go now? Ice cream, pleeease?" He tugged at her sleeve impatiently, his little voice almost a whine.

Pashmina smiled at him, her heart melting a little at the sight of his pout. "Almost, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes."

Aryaman's face scrunched even tighter as he tugged harder at her sleeve. "But Mumma, I want it now! I'm soooo hungry!" His voice was a soft whine, and his little feet shifted from side to side in impatience.

Her eyes turned stern as she added, "And behave. We'll go first, but say goodbye to your friend properly."

Aryaman pouted for a moment, but then nodded, knowing better than to argue when Mumma used that tone. "Okay, Mumma."

Aryaman turned toward Jaymeet and, without a word, pulled him into a big hug. "Goodbye, Jaymeet! We'll meet tomorrow!" he said, his voice cheerful.

Jaymeet grinned, returning the hug. "See you tomorrow, Aryaman!"

The parents exchanged goodbyes, and Aryaman, swinging between his parents, walked out the door. As they made their way to the car, Pashmina glanced down at Aryaman, her tone turning serious.

"Also, Aryaman," she began, her voice firm yet gentle, "I don't want you using your Papa or your Mamu's influence to get out of anything in school. You hear me?"

Aryaman looked up at her, his big eyes wide with a mix of confusion and amusement. "But I could get a lot of things done, Mumma!"

Pashmina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can't you just say, 'Yes Mumma, I will do it,' the first time I ask?"

Aryaman gave her an exaggerated pout, his lips trembling a little. "Okay, okay! Yes, Mumma, I'll do it!" he said dramatically, as if he were doing her a big favor.

Pashmina rolled her eyes, glancing at Shubman. "Dramatic, just like his Papa."

Shubman, overhearing, threw his hands up in offense. "Excuse me? I'm not dramatic!" he said, his voice loud enough for them both to hear.

Pashmina shot back immediately, her voice just as loud, "Excuse me, you areee!"

Shubman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, and by the way," Pashmina continued, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face, "you're getting punishment for the stunt you pulled before we picked up Aryaman and for not listening to his song. The punishment is that Aryaman will be singing the whole car ride."

Shubman's eyes widened in horror. "Wait, what? No, that's—"

"Too bad," Pashmina said, placing Aryaman in her lap, her expression shifting to a mischievous grin. "What do you think about singing now?"

Aryaman's eyes sparkled, and he threw his arms up, ready for his moment. "I'm ready, Mumma! Ice cream song!"

Shubman quickly fastened his seatbelt, casting a look of mock despair at Pashmina. "Really? This is how I'm spending my car ride?"

Pashmina leaned back, her grin widening. "You deserve it. Now, let's hear it, Aryaman."

With no further prompting, Aryaman started belting out his loud, off-key ice cream song, his enthusiasm contagious. 

As the car sped off, Aryaman’s voice rang out, loud and full of energy. Some of the notes made Shubman cringe, but despite the off-key singing, there was a warmth in the car, a sense of family that was undeniable. The joy was clear, even if the performance wasn’t Grammy-worthy.

Not far off, Khyati Sandhu, Jaymeet’s mother, stood quietly, her eyes following the family with a small frown on her face. She had been watching them for some time, lost in her thoughts. Rajvir Sandhu, noticing her expression, turned toward her.

“Khyati,” he asked gently, “you’ve been quiet for a while. What’s going on?”

Khyati blinked, breaking her gaze from the car. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake off her thoughts, and let out a long breath, filled with a quiet longing. “I don’t know,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But Aryaman’s eyes... they seem so familiar. Like... I don’t know, there’s some kind of connection I can’t place.”

Rajvir turned to her, his expression softening. “What do you mean?”

Khyati’s gaze stayed on the car as it faded from sight, a strange feeling settling in her chest. She shook her head, as if trying to dismiss the thought that kept creeping into her mind.

After a long pause, she spoke, her voice low and almost trembling. “I don’t know, Rajvir... it’s like he’s always been ours. Like he belongs with us.”

Rajvir glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “Khyati, you’re overthinking this.”

She exhaled softly, her voice barely audible as she spoke, “Maybe…”