99 runs in 50 balls. Both of them stood on the ground, fierce and determined to make a comeback in her presence. The stadium held its breath as they waited for the king and the prince to rise again. The cameraman kept panning the camera to Nehmat's masked face. You might wonder why her face was masked. Well, after three years of being missing in action, she didn't want all the attention on her. But as the sister of the king of cricket, it was never really possible to stay unnoticed. People could recognize her even if she was covered from head to toe in a sack. She still wondered how she managed to hide among the mountains without being found. And of course, it was her brother who eventually found her. He has that kind of power, doesn't he?

"Uff! Too many thoughts and rants," Nehmat said to herself, trying to concentrate. Just as she attempted to focus, a thud echoed through the stadium. It was a perfect cover drive by her paaji for one run. Her soul was blessed—a century and a comeback with his trademark shot. Could it get any better? Maybe, she thought, as she remembered the man now on the crease. The same man who had bowled her over with his charming dimples on this very ground four years ago, and the bow-down celebration she could watch for hours, like his photo that rests in her purse. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts once again to concentrate, waiting for the king and prince to celebrate together. Yes, together—that seemed to be the plan on the ground. Despite the crowd cheering, Virat remained calm. Her eyes were trained on her man's bat as she watched the scene, peeking through her fingers with hands covering her face.

The Australian bowler was taking so much time, that she felt she could faint any minute. The feeling intensified as he took his run-up and released a deadly yorker. She was ready to cry, her fingers closing as she anticipated the stumps rattling. Before the sob could even come out, a cracking sound met the empty seat next to her.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Nehmat opened her eyes to find the men of her life letting out a guttural cheer. The two main women in her life, after her mother—her bhabhi and niece—joined her, matching the men on the ground with their own roars. Vamika jumped into Nehmat's arms in excitement, both of them cheering for the cricketing stars' comeback. Their ritual celebrations followed the roar, and Nehmat couldn't help but tease her bhabhi, bumping shoulders with her as her paaji blew a kiss towards their stand.

"Stop it, lady," Anushka said, blushing and blowing a kiss back.

"Oh, I won't. It's been so long since I've seen this," Nehmat teased, swaying Vamika in her arms. Vamika, content with the century, laid her head on Nehmat's shoulder.

Anushka's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Oh look, I'm not the only one receiving kisses," she said, turning Nehmat's face towards the ground.

Nehmat's eyes widened as she saw Shubman kissing his bat and raising it towards her. She thought he would stop after acknowledging his family in the seat above her, who he would introduce later after the match. But boy, he went a step further and blew a kiss towards her. Her face turned redder than the wine she sold. The camera tried to capture her reaction, but luckily, the mask she wore helped. She bit her lip, trying to cover her emotions as she teared up at the gesture. She knew the internet might hate on him for this, but she couldn't care less because she was back where she belonged. A kiss on either cheek from her loved ones brought her back to reality. She turned around to see his family's reaction, only to find his sister and mother shrugging teasingly while his father laughed. A sense of peace washed over her as she watched them accept her. This is what it feels like to be everyone's favourite. She felt lucky to witness this moment finally.

******

As the match was won and hugs and kisses were exchanged, the much-awaited introduction was finally happening—the one that had been awaited since the West Indies tour.

Mumma Gill held Nehmat's face in her hands. "Oh God, she is beautiful, and exactly how you described in your letters," she said with adoration in her eyes.

Shubman, who was relaxing on his bed, now sat straight with horror in his eyes. "You read those letters, Mumma?" Mumma Gill gulped, trying to avoid his gaze. "It was hard not to when you seemed to forget the world while writing those."

Nehmat, confused, asked, "What letters? What's happening here?" Shahneel rolled her eyes, asking, "So this dumbo hasn't given it yet?"

Papa Gill chuckled and said, "He will give it when he will..." But before he could complete his sentence, Shubman covered his mouth with his hand. "Papa!" he exclaimed, as the secret was about to come out, but luckily, he saved it.

Nehmat was about to whine when Shubman said, "Don't fuss, I'll give it to you when the time comes."

Did the time come sooner? Sooner than expected, and before she knew it, both she and him were standing in Dharmshala Stadium, with their family members—excluding Meera, of course, who was just existing for her somewhere, and luckily, she didn't have to face her after coming to India—sitting hidden in the stands.

As her eyes watched the scenic beauty, the place where she had worked too gave her nostalgia. She felt arms around her waist and a whisper in her ear, "So Neh, what do you have to say about this place?"

Hidden in the stands, Vamika frustratedly muttered, "What is this SG up to? Can't he do it quicker?" "Vami," scolded her Dadi, "Let them do it beautifully. Keep your impatience in control." Vamika pouted at the scolding, but Shahneel next to her whispered, "Agree, baby. SG is a bit slow." Both of them giggled, hiding their amusement.

Nehmat joked, "Well, your six gave me a broken arm." Shubman whined, "Not that. What emotion do you feel here?"

Nehmat laughed, her laughter ringing around the stadium. "And the absolute horrible pain of a broken arm!" she exclaimed.

Shubman chuckled, shaking his head. "You never let me live that down, do you?" he teased.

Nehmat grinned mischievously. "Never," she replied, her eyes sparkling with fondness.

Resting her forehead against his, she smiled. "It gives me the feeling of my vineyards, my shelter on my darkest nights. Remember when I said mountains are not something I want to settle near? But I guess Nehmat was always and will always belong to the mountains. Maybe we can compare our relationship's strength to a sandcastle, but if we want it to endure..."

"Stand the test of time, we'll need the strength of these mountains," Shubman finished her thought, his gaze softening.

Nehmat nodded, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man beside her. "Exactly," she whispered, feeling the weight of his words mingling with the crisp mountain air.

She smiled and kissed his nose, momentarily captivating the attention of the family in the stands with the beauty of the mountains. However, their gaze turned once again as Shubman went down on one knee.

"I know I have to wait, but I guess I can't. The three-year-long torture was enough to wait, so..."

Shubman took a deep breath as Nehmat watched him, tears streaming down her face, unable to react. The only feeling evoked was the touch of his hands on hers.

"So, Nehmat Kohli, will you be Taimko to my Shinchan?"

Vamika slapped her forehead. "Is he five years old?" she exclaimed, but was met with a couple of shushes as they waited for Nehmat's reaction. Nehmat laughed out loud, sitting on her knees, burying her face in his shoulder for a good moment of laughter before looking at him.

"Only if you promise me to bring Chocobi for the rest of my life," she said with a grin.

Shubman grinned, relieved and elated. "Deal," he replied, his eyes shining with joy as he slipped the ring onto Nehmat's finger.

Both their mothers were the first to move down, skipping the steps in their eagerness to embrace the couple and congratulate them

Caught in a whirlwind of hugs, Nehmat and Shubman gently moved back a bit to hold each other's hands. Their brown eyes and dimples mirrored each other's smiles. His eyes crinkled with love as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks, a tender moment shared amidst the bustling excitement of their families.

If someone had told him he would marry the same girl who annoyed the hell out of him on their first meet, he would have punched that person for uttering nonsense. But as he stood there, gazing into Nehmat's eyes, he realized how wrong he would have been to dismiss such a notion. For in Nehmat, he had found not just a partner, but a soulmate—a kindred spirit who challenged him, supported him, and loved him unconditionally.

Their journey together had been filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears, but through it all, their love had only grown stronger. Nehmat's quirks and idiosyncrasies, once sources of annoyance, had become endearing traits that he cherished more than anything. As they stood there, basking in the warmth of their families' love, Nehmat couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the journey that brought them to this moment. Despite the twists and turns, the highs and lows, they had found their way back to each other, stronger and more in love than ever before.

Lost in each other's gaze, they didn't even notice that their families had moved out of the stadium, leaving them alone to cherish this precious moment. It was as if time stood still, cocooning them in a bubble of love and happiness. Hand in hand, they stood, silent but content, knowing that they had each other and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly, Nehmat blinked, breaking their reverie. "Wait... where did everyone go?" she asked, glancing around the empty stadium seats.

Shubman chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I think they've given us some space," he replied, squeezing her hand affectionately.

Nehmat laughed, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I guess we were too lost in each other to notice," she admitted, leaning into his embrace.

Shubman nodded, his eyes sparkling with love. "I don't mind being alone with you," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

They sat down on the empty stadium seats, the cool breeze whispering around them. Nehmat extended her hand, asking for the letters, and Shubman handed them to her. But before she could open them, he gently stopped her, his expression serious yet tender.

"Nehmat," he began, taking her hand in his, "I want you to promise me something."

Nehmat looked at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What is it?" she asked softly.

Shubman smiled, his gaze filled with love. "Promise me that you'll only open those letters after we're married," he said, his voice filled with earnestness.

Nehmat's heart skipped a beat at his request, the significance of it not lost on her. With a nod and a smile, she squeezed his hand gently. "I promise," she whispered, her eyes shining with emotion.

As the sun dipped low, its fiery tendrils reaching out to embrace the horizon, Nehmat and Shubman sat amidst the fading light, their silhouettes cast against the golden hues of the evening sky. With the soft caress of the evening breeze and the gentle hum of crickets in the air, they found themselves drawn together, their souls entwined like vines clinging to a trellis.

Their lips met, igniting a flame that danced with the fervour of a thousand suns. In that moment, they became one, their hearts melding together in a symphony of passion and promise. The ring on Nehmat's finger shimmered like a star in the twilight sky, a symbol of their everlasting commitment.

As they pulled away, their breath mingled with the cool night air, forming a mist of dreams and desires. They gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of an ocean of love, where every wave whispered secrets of forever.

In the quiet embrace of the evening, they knew that their love was a force of nature, unstoppable and eternal. And as they sat beneath the fading light of the sun, they welcomed the darkness of night, knowing that it held the promise of a lifetime of happily ever after.