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These are the chapters I wrote around 3-4 months ago, these are on my patreon only. I have taken a break from this book. I don't know when would i update, or even I would Update.
In my mind I have some idea about another cricket novel only but when mc is around the age of Kohli, a childhood friend of Kohli or just same age. just Imagine the player, in the early 2010s to mid 2020s. Rohit, Dhawan, Kohli, _______, Dhoni, Bumrah, Hardik, Ashwin, Jadeja etc.
But I don't have any Character design about him. Yeah! I want him to start with Max out AB Devillers System though.
and other character design like:
1. should he bowl -> if yes what? as Indian needed allrounder that time especially pace bowling all rounder.
2. where should he bat, I want him to be famous and reach the top, batting outside top 3 would be bad as out top 3 dhawan, rohit and Kohli used to score most of the runs themselves only.
so if in top 3, who should be skip or remove, like i think it could be -> Rohit, ______, Kohli!
3. Also what should he be like a person from future or a simple boy from Delhi Uttam Nagar who gets an AB Devillers system and a bowler too if you guys wants him to became an allrounder. so an bowler too.
4. a fresh journey we could start solving all the mistakes in this book as you guys showed a lot of support, although this is my first book i received a lot of love from you guys.
5. His name and how should he be like rich, poor, middle class?
6. His name, as several people commented Aarav is not a good name for a mc.
7. Your Other Needs?
8. Should he debut for India before Kohli.
9. I want new mc and Kohli to be childhood friend just like Aarav and Abhishek.
10. Who could be _____ 's love interest. like OC, Childhood friend, Actress, or other or even female cricketer, just like starc. I know this went too fast but yeah! just planning.
11. and _____ is currently referenced as mc's name which is not decided till now!
12. Thing you want in new book.
13. His family won't become super billionaire rich in this book for sure.
Comment GUYS and tell me ABOUT IT AND
ENJOY AND READ NEXT 11 CHAPTERS. I DON'T KNOW IF I WOULD UPDATE IN FUTURE OR NOT.
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The LED floodlights of the Wankhede Stadium bathed the lush green outfield in a brilliant, blinding white. The atmosphere was no longer tense; it was a carnival.
On the giant VEO broadcast screens, a graphic rotated, highlighting a statistical reality that was still taking time to fully process in the minds of cricket fans globally.
HIGHEST TEAM TOTALS IN ODI HISTORY
498/4 - England vs Netherlands (2022)
2. 487/4 - INDIA vs NEW ZEALAND (2023 WC Semi-Final)
481/6 - England vs Australia (2018)
"Look at that list," Shane Watson marveled in the commentary box, shaking his head. "England did it against the Netherlands. India has just done it against Trent Boult, Tim Southee, and Lockie Ferguson in a World Cup Semi-Final. It is unequivocally the greatest batting performance in the history of tournament cricket."
Down in the Indian dressing room, the mood was incredibly focused despite the monumental high.
Aarav Pathak, having just stripped off his sweat-drenched batting gear, reached for his bowling spikes. His dark eyes were fixed on the television monitor showing the New Zealand openers preparing to walk out.
"Pads off, spikes on, Pathak?" Rohit Sharma chuckled, walking over with a bottle of Gatorade.
"I'm ready, Skip," Aarav said, rolling his left shoulder. "Let's finish this."
Before Aarav could lace up his left boot, a firm hand rested on his shoulder. It was Rahul Dravid. The Indian head coach looked incredibly calm, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline pumping through the room.
"You're fielding, Aarav. You're not bowling," Dravid said simply, his tone leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation.
Aarav looked up, frowning slightly. "Coach, I'm fine. The shoulder feels great. I can give you five overs upfront with Bumrah."
"No," Dravid shook his head, a small, proud smile touching his lips. "You just spent over two hours in the sweltering Mumbai heat, scoring 161 runs at a strike rate of 167. You have absolutely nothing left to prove today. We are defending 487. We do not need to risk our premier 155-kilometer-per-hour asset breaking down with a cramp."
Rohit nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. "Rahul Bhai is right, Aarav. We've got the finals in three days. In Patra City. On your home turf. I need you bowling rockets there, not here. Shami Bhai is going to take the new ball today."
Aarav looked at Dravid, then at Rohit, and finally sighed, dropping his spikes. He couldn't argue with the logic. "Fine. But if they get off to a flyer, I'm taking the ball."
"If they chase 488, I'll let you bowl blindfolded," Rohit laughed, tossing him his blue BCCI cap.
A massive roar ripped through the Wankhede as the Indian team jogged out into the middle. The sea of blue was waving flags, blowing horns, and screaming names.
But as the field was set, the commentators immediately noticed the change in protocol.
"Well, this is interesting," Ian Smith noted on the global feed. "Jasprit Bumrah has the new ball from the Tata End, which is expected. But Aarav Pathak, the man who usually terrorizes the opening batters with raw pace from the other end, is fielding at mid-off. He doesn't have the ball."
"It's player management, plain and simple, and brilliant captaincy," Sunil Gavaskar analyzed smoothly. "India has 487 on the board. Aarav just played an innings of a lifetime. You protect your crown jewel. And frankly, handing the new ball to Mohammed Shami is hardly a downgrade."
Devon Conway and Rachin Ravindra stood at the crease. The target was 488. The required run rate from ball one was 9.76. It was a mathematical impossibility, but New Zealand was not a team to surrender without a fight.
Over 2.1: After a quiet first over from Bumrah, Mohammed Shami steamed in.
Shami's run-up was smooth, his rhythm metronomic. He released the ball with what experts universally agreed was the most perfect, upright seam presentation in modern cricket.
The ball pitched on a good length outside off-stump to Devon Conway. Conway, forced to attack the high run rate, threw his hands at a booming drive. But the ball kissed the seam and jagged away late, taking a healthy outside edge.
KL Rahul leaped to his right, completing a flawless, diving catch.
"CAUGHT BEHIND!" Harsha Bhogle announced. "Mohammed Shami strikes immediately! You rest the Prince, and the veteran steps up to the plate! Conway departs, and the Everest just got a little taller for New Zealand!"
Two overs later, Shami struck again. Rachin Ravindra, the young sensation of the tournament, tried to flick a length delivery, but the ball seamed back in sharply, taking the inside edge and crashing into the pads. The umpire's finger went up in a flash.
Score: 39/2 (5.4 Overs)
But the Kiwis, to their immense credit, refused to completely fold.
Walking out at number four was Daryl Mitchell, joining his captain, Kane Williamson. The pitch, despite the carnage of the first innings, was still an absolute belter for batting.
For the next twenty overs, Mitchell and Williamson fought a valiant, highly classy rearguard action. They couldn't win the match, but they were determined to protect their pride.
Williamson played with silken touch, guiding Kuldeep Yadav and Ravindra Jadeja into the gaps. Daryl Mitchell, however, decided to fight fire with fire. He took on the Indian spinners, executing powerful straight drives and massive sweeps.
Over 28.3: Mitchell danced down the track to Kuldeep, launching him over long-on for a massive six.
"This is a fantastic partnership," Ricky Ponting commended. "They know the target is out of reach, but Mitchell and Williamson are showing the world why New Zealand is so respected. Mitchell is striking at over 120, and the score is moving along beautifully."
The partnership crossed the 150-run mark. The Wankhede crowd, appreciating the high-quality cricket, began to applaud Mitchell's boundaries.
Rohit Sharma, sensing the partnership was getting slightly too comfortable, turned to his designated partnership breaker. Hardik Pandya.
Over 32.4: Hardik, bowling with a popped collar and immense swagger, banged the ball into the pitch. It was a well-directed, 142 kmph bouncer.
Williamson, sitting on a beautifully constructed 69, went for the pull shot. But the ball hurried onto him, cramping him for room. It took the top edge and ballooned into the night sky toward deep square leg.
Aarav Pathak, stationed on the boundary, sprinted forward, keeping his eyes locked on the white leather, and safely pouched the catch with a reverse cup.
"Hardik breaks the stand!" Ravi Shastri boomed. "The captain departs! Kane Williamson falls for a well-made 69, but that is the end of a brilliant 181-run partnership. Hardik Pandya, the man with the golden arm, delivers for Rohit Sharma!"
Score: 220/3 (32.4 Overs)
With the captain gone, the resistance began to crumble. Daryl Mitchell fought on like a lone gladiator, eventually reaching a spectacular, fighting century.
Over 39.0: Mitchell punched Bumrah down the ground for a single, taking off his helmet and soaking in a genuine standing ovation from the Mumbai crowd.
"A hundred for Daryl Mitchell!" Ian Smith said, genuine pride in his voice. "In the face of an impossible 487, he has stood tall and fought. It is a magnificent, pride-saving century."
But while Mitchell held one end, Mohammed Shami returned to utterly demolish the other.
In his second and third spells, Shami turned the Wankhede into his personal exhibition of seam bowling. He castled Tom Latham with a ball that nipped back viciously off the deck. He trapped Glenn Phillips LBW with a skiddy, low delivery. He found the outside edge of Mark Chapman's bat with an absolute peach of an outswinger.
Shami was unplayable. Every time he ran in, the crowd roared his name. He wasn't bowling at 155 kmph like Aarav; he was simply letting the seam do the talking, operating at a surgical 140 kmph.
Over 47.2: Shami knocked over Mitchell Santner's off-stump. Over 49.1: He clean-bowled Tim Southee with a perfect yorker.
As the zing bails flashed red for Southee's dismissal, the VEO graphics illuminated the giant screen with a statistic that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
MOHAMMED SHAMI - BOWLING FIGURES 9.1 Overs | 0 Maidens | 57 Runs | 7 WICKETS
"SEVEN WICKETS FOR MOHAMMED SHAMI!" Harsha Bhogle yelled, his voice ringing with pure disbelief. "A seven-wicket haul in a World Cup Semi-Final! He has completely dismantled the New Zealand middle and lower order! Aarav Pathak built the mountain with the bat, and Mohammed Shami has buried the opposition with the ball!"
"It is a fast bowling masterclass," Ian Bishop agreed, completely in awe. "You do not see seven-wicket hauls in modern ODI cricket against top-tier nations. He has kissed the pitch and let the seam create magic. What a phenomenal luxury for Rohit Sharma to have!"
Daryl Mitchell stood stranded at the non-striker's end, watching his teammates fall one by one.
Over 50.0: The final ball of the match. Jasprit Bumrah bowled a pinpoint yorker to Lockie Ferguson, who simply dug it out.
The umpires called time. The Wankhede Stadium erupted into a symphony of fireworks, laser lights, and deafening cheers.
MATCH INNINGS SUMMARY - ICC CWC 2023
SEMI-FINAL 1: INDIA vs NEW ZEALAND
INDIA: 487/4 (50.0 Overs)
NEW ZEALAND: 386/8 (50.0 Overs)
INDIA WINS BY 101 RUNS.
NEW ZEALAND BATTERS:
Daryl Mitchell: 134* (119 balls) | NOT OUT
Kane Williamson: 69 (73 balls) | c Aarav b Hardik
Glenn Phillips: 41 (33 balls) | lbw b Shami
Rachin Ravindra: 13 (18 balls) | lbw b Shami
The Indian players rushed the field. Aarav sprinted over from mid-off, immediately wrapping Mohammed Shami in a massive hug, lifting the veteran pacer off his feet. Virat Kohli, Rohit Sharma, and Shubman Gill quickly joined the dogpile.
The handshakes with the New Zealand players were filled with genuine respect. Kane Williamson offered a warm smile to Rohit, acknowledging the sheer impossibility of the task. Daryl Mitchell received pats on the back from the entire Indian squad for his heroic, solitary fight.
"Three hundred and eighty-six runs," Shane Watson marveled on the broadcast as the players walked off. "In any other World Cup match, scoring 386 gets you a comfortable victory. Today, it gets you a 101-run defeat. That is the absurd reality of facing this Indian team. They are invincible."
"And so, the defending champions march on," Harsha Bhogle's voice took on an epic, conclusive tone as the VEO cameras panned over the jubilant, dancing crowds in the Wankhede. "India books their ticket to the grand finale. The Wankhede has witnessed history, records have been shattered, and now, the caravan moves."
The broadcast desk replaced the live feed, showing Harsha, Sunny Gavaskar, and Ricky Ponting.
"Gentlemen," Harsha said, leaning forward. "We know one half of the final. India is going to Patra City. They are going to Gujarat, the Vijay Khel Maidan, Aarav Pathak's undisputed kingdom. But the question is... who will meet them there?"
The graphic shifted, displaying the massive showdown scheduled for the next day.
SEMI-FINAL 2: AUSTRALIA vs SOUTH AFRICA(Eden Gardens, Kolkata)
"It's the ultimate heavyweight clash," Ricky Ponting smiled, the Aussie pride clear in his eyes. "South Africa has been brilliant, but Australia is back from the dead. After losing the first two games, they have been a runaway freight train. And let's not forget what happened in Mumbai just a week ago."
The broadcast flashed a brief, mind-boggling highlight: Glenn Maxwell, barely able to stand on one leg due to severe cramps, reverse-sweeping and slog-sweeping the Afghan bowlers into the stands.
"Maxwell's double century... the greatest ODI innings of all time?," Sunil Gavaskar nodded in pure reverence. "Australia has that belief now. They believe they can win from any situation. If Australia beats South Africa tomorrow, we are setting up for an India-Australia final. The immovable object against the unstoppable force."
"An India-Australia final in Patra City," Harsha Bhogle smiled, looking directly into the camera as the epic VEO theme music began to swell. "A repeat of their opening group stage match. The five-time world champions against the defending Invincibles.
"The script is writing itself. The stage is set. We will see you tomorrow from Eden Gardens, ladies and gentlemen. Because the road to Patra City has officially begun."
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After a World Cup Semi-Final victory, it was normally filled with tactical debriefs, ice baths, and quiet satisfaction.
Not today.
Today, the Indian dressing room looked like a group of high schoolers who had just discovered the school's biggest gossip.
Mohammed Shami, clutching his well-deserved Player of the Match trophy for taking a historic 7 for 57, walked into the room. He expected applause. He expected Rohit Sharma to give him a hug.
Instead, he found Virat Kohli completely doubled over on a massage table, his face buried in his hands, crying tears of pure, unadulterated laughter. Ishan Kishan and Suryakumar Yadav were huddled around an iPad, howling. Hardik Pandya was leaning against a locker, reading from his phone like a news anchor.
"I took seven wickets, guys," Shami announced, slightly confused.
"Shami Bhai, we love you," Hardik said, not looking up from his screen. "But you are currently the ninth trending topic on X. You are trailing behind something called '#GillKiGali' (Gill's Street)."
"What?" Shami blinked.
"It's true," KL Rahul chuckled, holding out his phone. "India scored 487 runs today. We recorded the second-highest ODI total in history. Aarav hit a 44-ball century. Gill scored 173. You took a seven-wicket haul. And absolutely no one on the internet cares."
Aarav Pathak walked out of the shower area, a towel draped around his neck, wiping his wet hair. He was wearing his training shorts and a plain black tee. The moment he stepped into the main room, the entire squad erupted into synchronized, exaggerated whistling and catcalls.
"Oh, look! It's Shah Rukh Khan!" Kohli yelled, clapping loudly. "The King of Romance has arrived!"
"Please, Virat Bhai," Aarav groaned, dropping onto a bench and burying his face in his hands. His ears were bright red.
"Don't 'Virat Bhai' me, you absolute menace!" Kohli laughed, walking over and slapping Aarav hard on the back. "A flying kiss?! With the bat?! Do you know what you've done? You've destroyed the internet!"
Shubman Gill, who had been hiding in the corner trying to aggressively ice his cramped calves, wasn't spared either.
"And you!" Rohit Sharma pointed an accusing finger at his opening partner. The captain was trying to maintain a stern face, but a massive smirk betrayed him. "I sent you out there to score runs. Who told you to turn Wankhede into a Yash Raj film set? I have Jay Shah texting me asking if we need to hire wedding planners for the Patra City final!"
"Skip, I scored 173!" Gill protested defensively, though he couldn't stop grinning. "That has to count for something!"
"It counts for nothing!" Hardik boomed, scrolling through his phone. "Listen to this tweet from @CricketShitpostGawd. It has eighty thousand likes in ten minutes."
Hardik cleared his throat dramatically and read aloud: "'Mohammed Shami took 7 wickets just to end the match early so he could go home and check Twitter to see if Aarav and Shradha are officially dating. The man is a hero.' "
The dressing room completely lost it. Shami finally burst into laughter, shaking his head and sitting down next to Aarav.
"It gets better," Surya chimed in, swiping on the iPad. "Look at this one from @VadaPavEnjoyer. 'Aarav and Gill really scored 330 runs together just to impress Sachin Tendulkar. The fear of the father-in-law is universal.'"
"Okay, give me my phone," Aarav sighed, finally giving up and reaching into his locker. He turned it on.
His iPhone immediately froze.
The notifications weren't just popping up; they were a solid, unmoving blur of banners. Instagram, X, WhatsApp, iMessage. His phone vibrated so hard it sounded like a small drill.
He opened X (formerly Twitter). The trending tab was a monument to the absolute chaos he and Gill had unleashed.
[TRENDING IN INDIA]
#AaravShradha (1.2M Tweets)
#SachinsSonsInLaw (890K Tweets)
The Mystery Girl (750K Tweets)
#GillSara (620K Tweets)
Master Blaster (500K Tweets)
#JusticeForShami (310K Tweets)
Patra City Final (150K Tweets)
India vs NZ (90K Tweets)
Aarav stared at the screen. "We beat New Zealand by 101 runs and the match itself is trending at number eight. This country is obsessed."
"Obsessed is an understatement, Seth," Gill laughed, walking over and looking at Aarav's screen. "Look at the memes."
Aarav clicked on the #SachinsSonsInLaw hashtag. It was a goldmine of peak Indian internet humor.
@KohliStatsBot:Imagine being Arjun Tendulkar. You want to play backyard cricket. Your bowlers are Jasprit Bumrah and Aarav Pathak. Your batters are Sachin Tendulkar and Shubman Gill. Just retire from life, bro. 😭
@AstraTechIntern:My boss just told us that VEO servers crashed for three minutes. Not when Aarav hit the 44-ball century. But when Shradha caught the flying kiss. Astra's IT department is literally fighting for its life right now because of our CEO's son. 💀
@BCCI_Insider:Kane Williamson looking at the scoreboard: "How do we chase 488?"Aarav & Gill looking at the VIP Box: "What color should the lehenga be?"
@PacerCartel:People are calling them the Royal Family of Cricket. Sachin is the King, Aarav is the Prince, Gill is the Duke. What is Rohit Sharma? The angry uncle who beats everyone with a stick? 🤣🤣
"Hey!" Rohit yelled, tossing a rolled-up towel at Aarav's head as he read the last tweet out loud. "I am not an angry uncle! I am the captain!"
"Sure, Skip," Aarav ducked, laughing.
Suddenly, the dressing room door swung open. Rahul Dravid walked in.
The room instantly fell dead silent. Phones were hidden behind backs. Kohli stood up straight. The 'Wall' commanded absolute respect, and everyone knew Dravid was a purist who hated outside distractions.
Dravid stood in the center of the room. He looked at Shami. "Brilliant spell, Mohammed."
"Thank you, Coach," Shami nodded respectfully.
Dravid then turned his gaze to Aarav and Gill. The two twenty-something superstars suddenly looked like schoolboys called into the principal's office.
Dravid looked at them for a long, agonizing five seconds. His expression was completely stoic.
"A 44-ball century. And a 173," Dravid said softly. "Absolutely spectacular batting, boys."
"Thank you, Sir," Aarav and Gill mumbled in unison.
Dravid turned around to leave. Just as his hand touched the door handle, he paused. He didn't turn back, but his shoulders shook slightly.
"By the way," Dravid said, his voice completely deadpan. "My wife just texted me. She wants to know if you both are planning a double wedding, because she needs to buy a new saree. Have that answer for me by tomorrow morning."
The door clicked shut.
For two seconds, no one moved. Then, Virat Kohli collapsed onto the floor, roaring with laughter. The entire dressing room absolutely lost it. If Rahul Dravid was making jokes, the situation had officially peaked.
"We are never living this down," Aarav groaned, rubbing his temples, though he couldn't wipe the massive smile off his face.
Meanwhile, on national television, the absolute lack of cricketing analysis had reached comedic heights.
On Maha Sports Tak, one of India's loudest and most dramatic sports news channels, the World Cup semi-final scorecard was minimized to a tiny ticker at the bottom of the screen.
The entire studio was bathed in pink and red romantic lighting.
The anchor, a man notorious for his high-decibel delivery, was standing in front of a giant digital screen showing a zoomed-in, frame-by-frame breakdown of Aarav's flying kiss with the bat.
"NATION WANTS TO KNOW!" the anchor screamed, slamming his hand on the desk. "Look at the angle of the bat! Our experts have analyzed this trajectory!"
He drew a literal red circle on the screen around Aarav's MRF bat.
"The bat is pointing at exactly a forty-five-degree angle towards the VVIP box! And who was standing there?! Shradha Tendulkar! The Mystery Girl is unmasked! But viewers, we must ask the real questions. Did Shubman Gill plan his century celebration with Aarav Pathak? Was this a coordinated attack on the hearts of Indian fans?!"
Sitting at the panel were three 'experts': A former fast bowler looking incredibly confused, a Bollywood gossip columnist, and an actual astrologer.
"Look," the former fast bowler said, looking entirely done with his life. "Aarav bowled at 155 kmph today. He hit 161 runs. Can we please talk about his bat swing and not his love life?"
"Nonsense!" the Bollywood columnist interrupted, waving her hands. "This is the merging of two empires! The Pathaks are worth billions! The Tendulkars are cricket royalty! This is bigger than Ambani weddings! Did you see Anushka Sharma's reaction? She knew! They all knew!"
The anchor turned to the astrologer. "Pandit ji, you have looked at the charts. What does the alignment of the stars say about Aarav and Shradha?"
The astrologer adjusted his glasses solemnly. "The stars are perfectly aligned. Aarav is a fiery Mars, Shradha is a calming Moon. If they get married before the IPL next year, Gujarat Titans will win their third consecutive trophy."
Millions of people were watching this live.
Over in Patra City, inside the towering glass monolith of Astra Headquarters, Rajiv Pathak was sitting in his executive office.
The billionaire CEO, the fourth richest man in the world, was looking at a massive holographic display projecting real-time analytics. His Chief Marketing Officer was standing across the desk, looking shell-shocked.
"Sir," the CMO said, swallowing hard. "I... I don't know how to report this."
Rajiv took a sip of his black coffee. "Spit it out, Anand."
"We had allocated a fifty-million-dollar marketing budget for the VEO platform for the World Cup Finals week to drive global subscriptions," the CMO explained, tapping a tablet. "In the last two hours, VEO's organic search traffic has skyrocketed by 8,000 percent."
"Because of the 487-run total?" Rajiv asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, sir. Because global pop-culture outlets, including E! News, Vogue, and Entertainment Tonight in the US, have picked up the clip of Aarav and Shradha. They are calling it a 'real-life Bridgerton' moment. We have gained three million new subscribers in the UK and USA alone in the last ninety minutes. People who don't even know what cricket is are signing up just to watch the replay of the kiss."
Rajiv Pathak, a man known for his cold, calculating boardroom demeanor, slowly set his coffee cup down. A rare, genuinely amused chuckle escaped his lips.
"Cancel the marketing budget, Anand," Rajiv ordered smoothly. "Route the fifty million into the Patra City infrastructure fund. It seems my son is a better marketing asset than your entire department."
"Yes, Sir," the CMO nodded eagerly, quickly exiting the room.
Rajiv leaned back in his plush leather chair. He pulled out his phone and opened WhatsApp, navigating to a chat titled 'The Boardroom'—a group chat consisting only of himself and Sachin Tendulkar.
Rajiv Pathak:I assume your phone is melting as well?
A minute later, the reply came.
Sachin Tendulkar:I have 400 missed calls. Three from Bollywood directors asking for movie rights to their love story. I am turning my phone off until the Final.
Rajiv Pathak:Smart man. See you in Patra City. Drink some green tea. Your blood pressure must be through the roof.
Back at the team hotel, the security detail had to physically barricade the lobby. Thousands of fans had gathered outside, not chanting "India, India," but holding up hastily made signs that read "PRINCE ❤️ PRINCESS" and "SHUBMAN + SARA."
Aarav and Gill managed to slip through the underground VIP entrance, escorted by heavily armed security.
As they walked down the plush, quiet corridor of their dedicated hotel floor, Aarav finally let out a long breath, unlocking the door to his suite.
"You alive, Seth?" Gill asked, leaning against the doorframe of his own room across the hall.
"Barely," Aarav laughed, tossing his kit bag onto the floor. "I think my mom is going to murder me. She wanted to announce it officially after the World Cup, properly. With a press conference or a magazine cover. Not with me using my bat like a magic wand on live television."
"Aunty Priya will forgive you," Gill grinned. "You just hit a 44-ball hundred. She's probably framing the scorecard right now. Anyway, get some rest. We've got a flight to Patra City tomorrow. The fortress awaits."
"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Shub."
Aarav closed the door. The suite was quiet, offering a stark contrast to the absolute bedlam of the past six hours. He walked over to the massive window, looking out at the glittering Mumbai skyline.
He pulled out his phone. It was still lagging heavily, but he managed to open FaceTime and tap the familiar contact.
It rang twice before connecting.
Shradha's face filled the screen. She was back in her room at the Tendulkar mansion, wearing a simple white hoodie, her hair messy. She looked absolutely exhausted, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter.
"You," Shradha pointed a finger directly at the camera. "Are an absolute menace to society."
Aarav let out a deep, booming laugh, leaning against the glass window. "Me? You're the one who caught the kiss on live TV! You could have just clapped politely!"
"Polite is boring," Shradha countered, sticking her tongue out. "Besides, I panicked! I didn't think the cameraman was actually going to split the screen! Do you know what it's like to have David Beckham turn around and look at you like you're the main attraction?"
"I'm sorry," Aarav smiled softly, his voice dropping into a warmer, much more intimate register. "Did I ruin your peaceful life, Doctor Tendulkar?"
Shradha rested her chin on her hand, looking at him through the screen. Her gaze softened, melting away the jokes and the internet chaos. "You gave me the best moment of my life, Aarav. My phone hasn't stopped buzzing, my mom hasn't stopped teasing me, and the whole world knows I'm yours. I wouldn't change a single second of it."
Aarav felt a familiar, tightening warmth in his chest. "I love you."
"I love you too," she smiled. "Now, go to sleep. You have a World Cup to win in three days. And if you lose in Patra City, the internet is going to blame me. I refuse to be the Yoko Ono of Indian Cricket."
Aarav chuckled. "We're not losing. Especially not in my city."
"Good night, Prince."
"Good night, Shradha."
Aarav hung up the phone. He stood by the window for a few more minutes, looking down at the city where he was born. The city he had just conquered.
The internet was broken. The world was talking. The romantic folklore of the Prince and the Mystery Girl was permanently etched into pop culture history.
But as Aarav turned away from the window and looked at his heavy, blue India jersey resting on the chair, his mindset shifted back to reality.
The romance was beautiful. The noise was fun.
But there was still one more mountain to climb. One more battle to fight. The Vijay Khel Maidan in Patra City was waiting. And the Invincibles had a throne to claim.
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