MINIMUM 30 VOTES!

YANA'S POV:

I sat in the hotel lobby of ITC Maratha, surrounded by the quiet hum of conversations and the faint clinking of glasses. The air smelled of polished wood and jasmine, the kind that almost made you forget where you were.

 I glanced at the large clock on the wall and sighed. Dhruv, my soon to be fiancé, was running late. Not that it mattered.

 I didn't love him. Sure, he was handsome, charming, and one of the co-owners of Gujarat Titans—my favorite IPL team. But in my heart, he wasn't the one.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pulling at the hem of my red dress. 

It was strange to be here for a teachers' conference and end up waiting for someone who represented everything my parents ever wanted for me: power, wealth, and status. 

But love and respect? That had never been on their list. 

Growing up as Yana Zariwala, the only child of the richest jewelers in Gujarat, wasn't as dazzling as it sounded. My parents were controlling, their expectations towering over me like shadows I couldn't escape. 

I'm from Vadodara, a place where traditions run deep and expectations are higher than most can bear.

The women in my family weren't supposed to speak their minds, and I was no different

Ever since I was five and survived a severe bout of pneumonia, my health had been fragile. I was the 'delicate child' they needed to mold and protect, even if that meant suffocating my dreams.

I wanted to be a hip-hop dancer. The beat, the rhythm, the freedom—it called to me in a way nothing else ever did. But my parents wouldn't hear of it.

 "Dancing isn't a career, Beta," they'd say, their voices cold and final. So, I buried that dream deep and let them push me into economics. 

I became the obedient daughter, quiet and reserved, a reflection of their strict upbringing and emotional neglect. No matter how many jewels or money surrounded me, it never felt like enough.

The hotel lobby was bright, but I felt a loneliness gnawing at me. I opened my phone, scrolling through photos, searching for something to distract myself.

 And then, there he was—Shubman Gill, the prince of Indian cricket aka the Starboy.

 A smile spread across my lips before I could stop it. I'd had a crush on him for three years, ever since that unforgettable innings that had made him a star. 

No one knew about my infatuation, except Hamnah Khan, my best friend and colleague at MSU Vadodara. Hamnah would always tease me, calling me a hopeless romantic hidden under layers of shyness.

"Yana, the professor with a secret crush on a cricketer? I can't believe it," she'd said, eyes sparkling with mischief. I chuckled quietly at the memory, the sound swallowed by the noise around me.

I traced my thumb over the screen, pausing on a candid photo of Shubman laughing with his teammates. My heart raced, a strange feeling of warmth blooming in my chest.

 If only life were simple—if only I could break free of these golden chains my parents had wrapped around me. If only I could be more than just Yana Zariwala, the obedient daughter, the economics professor, the girl who always did as she was told.

Now, here I was, a respected professor, yet still shadowed by choices that weren't my own. The marble under my feet felt colder as I thought about meeting Dhruv.

 I glanced at the time, wishing for this meeting to pass quickly, my fingers absently brushing across the photo of Shubman again.

 He had no idea the hope he sparked in a quiet girl from Vadodara who had grown up surrounded by luxury but starved of affection. And he would never know.

Just then, the glass doors of the lobby slid open, and a figure stepped in, commanding attention with the ease of someone used to the limelight. 

My breath caught in my throat as recognition slammed into me. Shubman Gill—in the flesh, here, in the same space.

For a moment, the world around me blurred, and all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

AUTHORS' POV:

Yana couldn't believe her eyes when he walked into the room. There he was—Shubman Gill—walking toward her, like something out of her dreams. 

She had never expected to meet him in person, let alone this close, let alone this unexpectedly. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked down, trying to steady her breath, but the air in the room suddenly felt heavy. 

The nerves she'd been trying to suppress all day came rushing to the surface, leaving her flushed and jittery.

Her thoughts were a mess. Focus, Yana. Focus. She tried to remind herself that this wasn't some celebrity moment where she should be starstruck. 

He was just a guy, right? A guy she had seen on TV and read about in magazines, but still, a guy. The same guy who had taken the cricket world by storm, who everyone adored, who she—adored.

 But none of that mattered in this moment, not with him standing right in front of her. His smile was bright, genuine—so much more disarming than the one on the posters—and the way he was looking at her now made her feel like she was the only person in the room.

And then, without realizing what she was doing, Yana blurted out the most random thing that had crossed her mind.

"Uh... excuse me, I—uh—I know this is random, but... could we take a selfie?"

She cringed even as the words left her lips, mortified at how awkward she sounded. Of all the things she could have said, she had asked for a selfie, of all things.

What was I thinking? Her fingers felt clammy as she fumbled with her phone, trying to focus, but the trembling wouldn't stop. She didn't dare to look at him directly—she couldn't. 

The nervousness was too much to bear. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, her mind racing with a million "what ifs," but there was no turning back now. 

She was already standing there, offering him the phone like she was some giddy fan. God, kill me please .

But then, to her surprise, he actually smiled. A real, warm, beautiful smile that made her heart skip another beat.

"A selfie? Sure." He said it so casually, so confidently, as though this wasn't some huge deal, as though he hadn't just completely shaken up her world. 

Yana's stomach fluttered, and for the briefest moment, she forgot how to breathe. He stepped closer, his presence so overpowering, so magnetic that it made her pulse quicken. 

There was something about the way he held himself, his self-assuredness, and that infectious grin of his—it was hard not to be swept up by it.

And then, as if her nervousness wasn't already at its peak, he said, "But, if we're doing this, you should at least give me your number so I can send it to you."

Yana froze, her mind stalling for a split second. Wait, did he just... ask for my number? For a selfie? Her thoughts collided into one another, completely disoriented. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

Her hands suddenly felt like they weren't her own as she struggled to wrap her head around what was happening. My number? For a selfie? This is... I can't believe this is happening.

 Her heart hammered in her chest, and she found herself laughing nervously, though she wasn't sure whether it was out of disbelief or sheer panic.

"You—You want my number? For a selfie?" she asked, her voice a little too high-pitched. The words were ridiculous, she knew that, but what else was she supposed to say? 

She felt like an idiot for even asking him for one in the first place, and yet here he was, standing in front of her, asking for more. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. 

She was just a random girl, a professor—definitely not a celebrity, not someone worth noticing. So why was Shubman Gill paying her this much attention?

His laugh, low and genuine, cut through her racing thoughts. "Well, it's a good selfie, don't you think? I might need a way to make sure you have it saved properly."

The wink that followed made her cheeks flame hotter than ever before. His eyes sparkled with something playful, something mischievous, and Yana found herself unable to form a coherent thought.

 She wanted to say something clever, something witty to match his confidence, but all that came out was a breathless "I guess you're right... I—um—you can ty... type it in."

Her fingers shook as she took his phone. It felt like her whole body was on fire, and yet, it was the most thrilling thing she'd ever experienced. This was insane. This couldn't be happening to me.

She couldn't stop herself from glancing at him, as she typed down her number, it felt impossible not to. He had an air about him, something so calm, yet undeniably magnetic. 

And when his hand brushed hers while returning the phone, Yana's breath hitched. The contact was fleeting, but it sent an electric jolt through her, and for a moment, she couldn't think straight.

"You seem a bit nervous... Relax, I'm not going to bite."

His voice was reassuring, and the soft chuckle that followed helped ease some of the tension that had built up in her chest.

But Yana could barely hold it together. Of course he's not going to bite, Yana. He's not some celebrity monster. 

He's just... well, Shubman Gill. She could feel her heart thumping louder in her chest, her nerves still fluttering. His words didn't help her much—relaxing felt impossible, especially when he was so close, when his presence was so overwhelming.

"Sorry, I'm just not great at, you know... talking to people like you. Famous people."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and the moment they left her mouth, she wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. What the fuck am I doing? She mentally cursed herself. 

She could have just said something normal, like, Hey, nice to meet you, but no, she had to say that. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, and she hoped he didn't notice. He had to have noticed, though. Everyone noticed when you sounded like an idiot.

But his response was so effortless, so casual that it took her by surprise. "Well, I'm just a guy. Don't worry about it."

His smile softened as their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down. She almost forgot how to breathe. I'm just a guy.

His words were a balm to her raw nerves, soothing in a way that she hadn't expected. There was no ego, no arrogance, just a simple truth. He wasn't this unreachable god. He was just someone standing here, with her.

"I'm not as intimidating as the press makes me out to be."

Yana's heart thudded harder in her chest. Was he serious? She shook her head, laughing a little nervously, "I don't know about that... you're kind of... everywhere. I mean, you're Shubman Gill."

He was everywhere, after all. Every match, every endorsement, every headline. She didn't know him, not in the way she knew her friends or colleagues, but she knew him. She'd seen him, admired him, and yet here he was, standing before her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm still just a guy. And you're still just a girl who's not afraid to ask for a selfie."

And just like that, the moment seemed to shift again, like they were no longer separated by the vast space of celebrity and fan. 

There was something in his eyes, something unspoken, something that left Yana wondering if this was just a fleeting interaction or the beginning of something much, much more.

"I think I'll be seeing again, Yana."

His words lingered in the air, and for the briefest of moments, Yana stood frozen, trying to process them. 

How did he know her name? Was he flirting with her? Did that mean he was interested? Her head spun, and her heart raced as he walked away, leaving her standing there, the phone still clutched tightly in her hand.

Was that really happening? she thought, her mind in a whirlwind. She couldn't quite wrap her head around it, but one thing was clear: this was just the beginning.

SHUBMAN'S POV:

As I walked into the lobby, I couldn't shake this odd feeling, one I couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just the usual rush of a busy day—meetings, media, and match prep. 

No, today felt different. There was something in the air, something tugging at me. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew it was important. Maybe it was just me overthinking things, but I had a strange sense that today, I'd be meeting someone I hadn't planned on.

When I spotted her, it wasn't hard to recognize her. Yana Zariwala. I'd seen her name around—through Dhruv Patel, the co-owner of Gujarat Titans.

 Dhruv and I had spoken a few times about her, always with a tone of pride. She was a professor, smart and independent, but there was something about her that intrigued me more than the accolades or the professional success.

I had only seen her in pictures, but even in those, something caught my attention. There was a sadness to her, a quiet kind of melancholy, barely visible but enough to make me feel like I knew her in a way others didn't.

 It was subtle, and maybe it was just my imagination, but every time I saw her, it felt like there was a story hidden in her eyes, a story she wasn't ready to share with anyone.

Today, standing in front of her, I couldn't help but notice how real it all felt. She was more than just a face in a crowd, more than just a professional. 

She seemed different—quiet, unsure of herself, like there was something she was trying to hide, something that didn't quite align with the confident exterior. It made me pause for a second.

 Was I reading her wrong? Or was I picking up on something that wasn't obvious to others?

I took a few steps toward her, and for a moment, I could feel the nervous energy coming off her in waves. 

There was something about her, something that made me want to reach out and make her feel less alone. Her eyes avoided mine, and I noticed how her fingers fumbled with her phone, like she was trying to get her bearings in a situation she wasn't used to.

When she spoke, I could tell she was nervous—her words were hesitant, unsure.

"Uh... excuse me, I—uh—I know this is random, but... could we take a selfie?"

A selfie? It threw me off at first. It wasn't what I expected, but as I studied her face, I saw it—there was more behind the request than she let on.

 It was like she was searching for a connection, some small way to bridge the gap between us. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was more important than just a quick photo.

"A selfie? Sure."

I stepped closer, trying to make her feel more at ease. I wasn't sure why, but I felt an odd sense of protectiveness toward her, like I needed to be the one to make her feel comfortable. 

I didn't want her to feel nervous or out of place. But then again, maybe it wasn't my place to fix anything for her. Still, I couldn't ignore the pull I felt.

"But, if we're doing this, you should at least give me your number so I can send it to you."

I said it lightly, trying to make it feel like no big deal. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I saw the surprise in her eyes. She blinked, unsure if she had heard me correctly, then laughed nervously. 

The sound of her laugh—so genuine and unguarded—made something inside me stir. She wasn't like the others, the ones who saw me as just another celebrity. No, with her, it felt different. 

She was real. And she didn't quite know how to handle this version of me—the Shubman Gill they'd all seen on TV.

"My number?"

Her voice cracked slightly, and I could see the hesitation written all over her face. She was second-guessing herself, unsure of whether this was too forward. I couldn't help but smile. It was endearing, the way she tried to hide her discomfort.

"You—You want my number? For a selfie?"

She asked it as though it was some kind of impossible request, her disbelief almost palpable. And I got it. I knew what she was thinking—this was a celebrity thing, wasn't it? It wasn't something she was used to, wasn't something that felt... normal to her. 

It was probably more intimate than she had expected, more personal. But I wasn't just some figure on a screen. I was just a guy, standing here in front of her. And for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to see that.

"Well, it's a good selfie, don't you think? I might need a way to make sure you have it saved properly."

I added the joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. She didn't seem convinced, still a little unsure. But I could tell she was starting to let her guard down, just a little. 

And while handing her my phone, I couldn't help but feel like I was witnessing something fragile. 

It was in the way she held onto that phone, as though it was her lifeline in a moment that felt a little too real.

You seem a bit nervous... Relax, I'm not going to bite."

I said it with a light chuckle, hoping to make her feel better. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I had to try. I could sense that she wasn't used to being this close to someone like me, someone in the public eye. 

She didn't know how to navigate this, didn't know how to handle someone who wasn't a stranger but still felt like one. And that made me feel a little guilty. Maybe I was the one making her nervous.

Her response caught me off guard. She apologized for being awkward, for not being good at talking to people like me. 

But it was the way she said it—like she felt out of place, like she didn't belong here with someone like me. That hurt more than I expected.

"Sorry, I'm just not great at, you know... talking to people like you. Famous people."

I could feel her self-doubt hanging in the air. It wasn't that she thought she wasn't good enough. it was more like she thought she was unimportant, out of her depth. 

And that was something I couldn't stand. She wasn't just some random person asking for a selfie.

She was smart, she was strong, and she deserved to be seen for who she was—not just the image everyone else projected onto her.

"Well, I'm just a guy. Don't worry about it."

I said it, hoping she would feel more at ease. But I wasn't just saying it to comfort her. I meant it. I wasn't here as some unreachable, untouchable figure. 

I was just Shubman, the guy who happened to play cricket, who happened to be in the spotlight. But beneath all of that, I was just a guy. And I needed her to know that.

"I think I'll be seeing again, Yana."

I didn't plan on saying it, but the words slipped out, and for some reason, they felt right. Maybe it was the way she was standing there, unsure of herself but still so strong in her own way.

 Or maybe it was the fact that I felt an inexplicable pull to her, something that went beyond just this chance encounter. Whatever it was, I had a feeling our paths would cross again.

As I turned to walk away, I glanced back at her. She was still holding her phone, her fingers curled around it as if it was something she could use to anchor herself. 

I knew she wasn't going to forget this moment. And I had a feeling, deep down, that neither would I.

•all right everyone! This was the first chapter of the story.

•i have tried my best to make Yana introverted, ig some people can relate to her, including me.

•did y'all see how Yana already fell for Shubman, three years ago and how Shubman fell in love with her, through her vulnerability?

•i have tried my level best to write this one.
Please comment as much as possible.

•do tell me your thoughts, suggestions. Constructive criticism is accepted.

•any guesses for the next one?

•till then, with love
Yours author!