A few days later, after an intense series of games, Shubman and Naima had decided to take some time off for themselves and visit a temple.

They both knew how grounding it could be to step away from the media, and the public eye, and just spend time in peace.

Naima had always loved the ritual of getting ready for such occasions—the calm preparation, the way it connected her with her roots.

It felt intimate, personal, and for the first time in a while, it was just her and him.

She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her saree with care. The fabric was a rich royal blue, with intricate gold detailing along the border that sparkled faintly in the light. Her blouse was a deep gold, with a modern twist on traditional embroidery.

She had her hair tied up into a neat bun, but a few tendrils escaped, framing her face softly. She was adding the final touches when she heard Shubman's voice from the bathroom, his tone light but with that soft lilt of affection.

"You need any help, babe?" His voice was muffled through the door, but still full of warmth.

"I'm fine, just finishing up," Naima replied, her voice trailing off as she fastened her jhumkas, the large golden earrings dangling from her earlobes, their weight comforting against her skin.

A few moments later, the bathroom door creaked open, and Shubman stepped out into the room. He was wearing a kurta that matched her saree—a muted gold with intricate designs etched into the fabric.

His jeans were fitted, not too tight but just enough to show off his toned legs, a sharp contrast to the traditional kurta that flowed easily around his frame.

His hair was slightly messy, giving him an effortlessly handsome look. He looked every bit the part of someone attending a temple with a grace only he seemed to possess.

But when his eyes landed on her, his expression shifted. He froze for a moment, his gaze scanning her from head to toe.

Naima had just applied the final touches of her eyeliner, the pencil gliding smoothly along her eyelids.

She then dabbed on a subtle lip gloss that added a soft shine to her lips, careful not to overdo it. The reflection in the mirror made her feel like she could take on the world, but the moment her eyes met Shubman's, she felt something entirely different.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide. "You look... breathtaking." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as though he didn't want to break the spell.

Naima chuckled softly at his reaction, turning toward him with a playful grin. "I know, I know... I look good," she teased, but there was something in her voice that was undeniably soft. "I clean up well, don't I?"

Shubman couldn't tear his eyes away from her. He stepped closer, his movements slow, as if he was afraid to startle her out of the moment.

"You're... you're glowing," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration.

"I can't take my eyes off you. I swear, I'm going to have to fight people off today."

Naima's smile softened as she turned back to the mirror, picking up her bangles from the table and sliding them onto her wrist, the thin golden bangles making a soft tinkling sound as they slid into place.

She wore a watch too, its simple silver band contrasting the vibrant gold of her accessories. She carefully adjusted the jhumkas one last time, making sure they hung perfectly.

The bindi on her forehead completed the look—small but significant, tying everything together.

Shubman stepped up behind her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. His reflection in the mirror showed the intense look in his eyes.

"I don't think you know how beautiful you are," he said softly, his voice nearly a whisper, almost reverential.

"Every time I think I've seen you at your best, you do something like this, and... fuck, I just..."

Naima could hear the emotions building in his voice. She looked at him in the mirror, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin.

"You okay, Shubman? You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased, but her heart was racing at the same time.

There was something in the way he looked at her, like she was something he wanted to protect, something irreplaceable.

He shook his head slowly, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of her arm as he moved around to stand in front of her.

"No," he said quietly. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I'm just... lost in you, Naima. Every part of me is just... captivated by you. I can't believe you're mine."

Naima's heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching in her throat at the raw sincerity in his voice. She blinked a few times, her fingers brushing over the bangles on her wrist.

"You have no idea what you do to me," she said, her voice quiet but thick with emotion. "Sometimes, I think I'm dreaming, and then I look at you, and I know it's real."

Shubman's face softened, and for a brief moment, his gaze dropped to the floor, as though he were collecting himself before meeting her eyes again.

"I don't deserve you," he muttered, almost to himself. "You're incredible. And... fuck, I want to give you everything you deserve."

Naima reached out, placing her hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath his kurta.

"You give me everything just by being here," she said, her voice full of quiet assurance. "You have no idea how much just... being with you means to me, Shubman."

He didn't speak for a moment. Instead, he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing softly against her forehead, as though he couldn't help himself.

"I'll never let you go," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Never."

Naima closed her eyes at the feeling of his lips against her skin, her heart swelling with the words she hadn't realized she was waiting to hear.

"I don't want you to," she whispered back, her hands resting gently on his arms, her fingers brushing the fabric of his kurta. "I don't ever want you to let me go."

Shubman smiled then, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and with a final, lingering kiss to her forehead, he pulled back. "Let's go make memories, then," he said softly, his smile never leaving his face.

"After you, my love," Naima replied, her voice playful again, though her heart was still racing from everything they had just shared.

They made their way down the stairs of the house, the air around them filled with a quiet buzz, the calm before the storm of getting ready for their trip to the temple. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft golden hue on the world outside.

Naima felt a sense of calm wash over her as she walked beside Shubman, her hand in his. It was one of those rare moments where everything felt right, like the world had aligned perfectly for just the two of them.

Shubman was quiet, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked at her, his eyes constantly flicking over her, as though he couldn't quite believe she was really there.

She could feel the warmth radiating from him—his presence grounding her in a way that no one else ever had.

"You good?" Naima asked, glancing up at him with a knowing smile. "You seem a little distracted, babe."

He smiled, though it was faint. "I'm fine," he said softly, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, the simple gesture sending a ripple of warmth through her chest. "Just... thinking about how much I don't deserve you."

Naima chuckled, leaning into him slightly. "You really need to stop saying that, Shubman. You deserve me and then some." Her voice was playful, but there was a deeper sincerity in it that even she couldn't hide.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but this—what they had—felt like the best thing she had ever experienced in her life.

As they stepped into the car, the quiet hum of the engine filling the air, she leaned her head back against the seat, her fingers still entwined with his. "We're going to be late if we don't hurry up," she teased, glancing over at him.

"I don't care," Shubman muttered, his voice laced with a hint of something darker, something tender.

"I'd spend forever with you, Naima. But yeah, we probably should get going. We have a date with the gods, after all."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're something else, you know that?"

"And you love it," he shot back with a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously.

They arrived at the temple a little later, the grounds peaceful in the late evening. The ancient architecture loomed above them, a reminder of the centuries of tradition and faith it held within its walls.

The air was cool, the scent of incense lingering in the atmosphere as people quietly prayed and meditated.

Naima and Shubman walked side by side, their fingers intertwined as they approached the steps leading into the temple.

As they entered, the soft murmur of chants filled the air, and Naima felt her heart slow, a sense of calm enveloping her as she walked beside Shubman.

There was something sacred about the moment, something that made everything feel right in the world.

She had always been someone who believed in balance—the balance between work and life, between the pressures of the world and the peace of a moment shared with someone who truly understood her.

"It's beautiful," Naima whispered, glancing up at him. "I'm glad we did this."

Shubman smiled softly, his expression a rare mixture of peace and affection. "I think it's just what we needed. No distractions, just us."

He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her skin. "I feel like, in moments like this, I can just breathe. You know?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice soft, "I feel that too. Sometimes, we get so caught up in everything around us that we forget to just stop. But with you, it's different. It's like everything slows down."

They stood in front of the altar for a moment, both of them lost in the serenity of the place.

Naima closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer—her thoughts a quiet mix of gratitude for everything she had, and a wish for more moments like this, moments of peace and love with Shubman.

When they finally stepped away from the altar, Naima turned to face him, her eyes still filled with that quiet sense of peace.

"I think we should do this more often," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Just... take a break, come here, and be with each other."

Shubman nodded; his gaze intense as he looked at her. "I'd love that," he said softly. "More than you know."

Naima reached out and touched his face, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw gently. "You're my everything, Shubman. I want to keep you close, not just in the good times, but in all of it. All the messy, complicated stuff too."

Shubman's eyes softened, his hand coming up to rest over hers. "You already have me, Naima. And I'm not going anywhere."

Their gazes locked for a long moment, neither of them speaking, just letting the quiet of the temple and the steady rhythm of their hearts fill the space between them.

It was a promise, an unspoken bond that neither of them needed to vocalize, because they both already understood it.

As they left the temple grounds, the evening had fallen completely, the city lights twinkling like stars around them. The air was cooler now, the night wrapped around them like a blanket. Shubman turned to Naima, his voice low and intimate.

"What if I told you I never want this night to end?"

Naima smiled, leaning into him as they walked. "Then I'd say we make the most of it," she replied, her voice playful but full of affection.

"Because I don't want it to end either."

As they walked hand-in-hand through the temple grounds, the evening air still carrying a gentle coolness, Shubman's mind kept circling back to one thing: how incredibly beautiful Naima looked tonight.

The way the light caught her saree, the delicate glimmer of the jhumkas she wore, the soft hint of a smile on her lips—it was like everything else faded when she was near him.

They strolled quietly for a while, both lost in their thoughts, but then Shubman suddenly broke the silence, his voice full of that familiar, soft affection.

"I have an idea," he said, squeezing her hand as he turned to her. "You look so beautiful tonight... but I think something's missing. Just a little touch to make it perfect."

Naima raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Something's missing?"

"Yeah," Shubman said with a grin, his fingers lightly brushing her wrist as they continued walking. "A gift for my queen, of course."

She laughed, shaking her head playfully. "I swear, you're always spoiling me."

"You deserve it," he replied, his smile almost shy as they approached a small street market near the temple.

"I'll be right back. Wait here."

Before Naima could protest, Shubman quickly disappeared into the market, weaving through the small crowd of people.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what he was up to, but then she shrugged it off. He had that effect on her—he could do whatever he wanted, and she'd just go along with it. No questions asked.

A few minutes later, Shubman reappeared, his hands full of something. Naima's eyes widened slightly when she saw him holding a small bundle of white flowers.

The gajra was wrapped in tissue paper, its sweet fragrance wafting toward her as he came closer. He smiled at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I thought you might like this," he said softly, offering the flowers to her with a playful bow of his head. "A little something to complete the look."

Naima blinked, surprised and touched. "You got me gajra?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine appreciation. "I love gajras."

"I know you do," Shubman replied, his voice soft. "I couldn't resist when I saw them. They're perfect for you."

Naima smiled, taking the gajra from him gently, the delicate flowers soft to the touch. "Thank you, Shubman. I love them. You always know how to make me feel special."

Shubman grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. "It's the least I could do," he said, his voice full of warmth. "You're already perfect, but I thought this might add a little extra magic."

Naima couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest at his words. She had never been one to expect grand gestures, but with Shubman, everything felt meaningful. The small, thoughtful moments—like this one—meant more than anything else.

"Now," Shubman continued, his eyes glinting, "there's one more thing I got for you."

Naima raised an eyebrow, her curiosity getting the best of her. "What else did you get?"

He grinned, taking out a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a pair of stunning jhumkas, the gold gleaming under the streetlights.

They were intricate, with delicate patterns that seemed to shimmer with every movement.

"I saw these, and I knew they'd look perfect on you," Shubman said, his voice full of affection. "They're simple but elegant, just like you."

Naima felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the jhumkas, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the gold.

"Shubman," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "you really know how to make me fall in love with you all over again."

"I'm just getting started," he teased, a playful grin curling his lips as he reached out to take her hand. "But if you're ready, let me put these on you."

Naima nodded, her heart racing. "Yes, please."

She turned slightly, her back facing him as he gently placed the jhumkas in her ears. She could feel his fingers brush against her skin, and the simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through her.

There was something about the way he treated her—always so gentle, so attentive—that made her heart swell with affection.

As Shubman finished putting the jhumkas in place, he stood behind her for a moment, just looking at her.

She could see his reflection in the glass of a nearby stall, his face soft with admiration as he gazed at her.

"You're stunning," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe I get to be with someone like you."

Naima turned around to face him, her hand reaching up to gently touch his face. "Shubman," she said, her voice soft and sincere, "you don't need to keep saying that. I'm right here, and I'm yours."

His expression softened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them. He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering even after he pulled away.

"I know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'll never let you go, Naima."

The words settled between them, a quiet promise that neither of them needed to speak aloud again. They were in this together, and nothing could change that.

With the gajra in her hair and the jhumkas in her ears, Naima felt more connected to the moment, more connected to him than ever before.

It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything. 

Welcome to the twenty-second chapter of "The Man"!
they're so cute, i got flashbacks of Gold Rush 

what are your thoughts about the next chapter?
anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!
make sure to comment on what you liked!

until then, yours truly
soup 🫶