"Avantika Bagga... she wasn’t perfect, but she was everything I needed," Shubman said, his voice softening as he reflected on his past.

“We didn’t have the typical Bollywood-style meeting,” Shubman began, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. “But meeting her was worth it. I was heading home from practice, and she was on her way back from college. We met at a bus stop, just two people waiting in the chaos of everyday life.”

“When it started to rain, I remember watching her. She sat there calmly, unfazed by the downpour, while I was tapping my feet nervously, irritated by the weather. She seemed to enjoy it, almost as if she was exactly where she needed to be at that moment in her life. I was in a rush, but she had this serenity about her that made the chaos around us fade away.”

Past

I was tapping my feet, watching her, as everything else seemed to fade away. My incessant rhythm scraped against the ground below when she finally turned to me, her brown eyes shimmering with mild exasperation. “Stop it,” she sighed. “The rain won’t stop with your rhythm.”

I paused, caught off guard by her calm demeanor amidst the downpour. There was something enchanting about her—how she seemed completely at ease while the rain danced around us.

“I’m just trying to keep my mind off the weather,” I replied, attempting to sound casual but failing to hide my irritation.

She chuckled softly, a sound that made my heart skip. “You know, sometimes you have to embrace the chaos. It’s just a little rain.”

"This little rain is going to soak me and leave me cold, and I can’t afford to miss practice because of it,” I shot back, my frustration bubbling over.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, making me frown because I didn’t want to leave her just yet. “Anyway, stranger, the bus doesn’t seem to be coming, so I’m going to walk in the rain while you can wait here,” she said with a playful smile.

I hesitated, feeling a mix of annoyance and concern. “You’re really going to walk in this?”

“Why not? It’s just rain,” she replied, her tone light and carefree. “I’d rather get wet than sit here and see you frustrated.”

I frowned as I watched her walk into the rain, which had picked up intensity. Glancing in the direction the bus would be coming from, I realized it wasn’t showing any signs of arriving anytime soon. Then I turned back to her figure, feeling an urge to stay close.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly made my way over to her. The 16-year-old Shubman Gill wasn’t going to miss the chance to get to know the girl who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

I ran after her, splashing through the puddles beneath me and making noise with each step as I closed the distance between us. The rain poured down, but I didn’t care; I just wanted to be beside her.

“Hey, I can walk you home. Where do you stay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. She turned to me, her eyes narrowing, and my breath hitched at her appearance. Her sleek, long hair cascaded down to her waist, and the raindrops clung to her lashes, making her look ethereal.

“Just because we started talking doesn’t mean I’ll share everything about myself,” she said, her expression serious.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Do I look like some sort of kidnapper to you?”

She shrugged, her eyes still narrowed at me. “Why not? Who knows what you’re carrying in that big bag of yours?”

“Excuse me,” I said, looking down at my backpack. “It’s a cricket kit. Do you really think I’m going to fit you in here?”

Her face still held a serious look as she replied, “We’re living in the 21st century; you can expect anything.”

I huffed, my eyes catching her ID hanging around her neck. I glanced at her name and then looked at her with determination. “Well, Avantika, I have a match at IS Bindra Stadium. Come to watch me score a century, and that way, you'll know who I am.”

She looked at me with a teasing grin, one that felt almost like a challenge. “Well, I’d rather watch Virat Kohli. Why would I watch you?”

“I guess you need to read the newspapers more to see who the heir is,” I said with a smirk, feeling a surge of confidence.

“Wait, who is it? What do you even mean?” she asked, scoffing, her brows furrowing in confusion.

I smirked, running my fingers through my damp hair. “You’ll see it on the scoreboard when you come to watch me.” With that, I turned and walked away, a surge of determination filling my heart to impress the girl who had just regarded me as nothing.