You were Hardik Pandya's girlfriend—the all-rounder cricketer, adored by billions. He had everything: wealth, fame, luxury. And you? You had only him. You never asked for anything, never spent his money, never demanded attention. You loved him purely, deeply, unconditionally. But you were always his last priority.

His teammates—Rohit, Virat, Shubman—saw it. They saw how he laughed and joked with others while you sat silently in the background. They saw how he entertained female attention, how he brushed you aside. You weren’t blind to it either. And yet, even after all of it… you still loved him.

Tonight, the team was at a restaurant. You weren’t supposed to be here, but somehow, you found yourself near them. Hardik sat at the center of it all, radiant, untouchable, as if nothing in the world could shake him.

And then your eyes caught something—a shadow moving behind a wall. A man. A gun.

A shiver crawled down your spine as the realization struck like lightning. The gun was pointed at Hardik.

Bang!

The world slowed. Your body moved before your mind could process it. One second you were standing, the next you were between Hardik and death itself.

Pain. Searing, burning pain tore through your waist as the impact jerked your body forward. You barely registered how your head lolled onto Hardik’s chest as you fell into his arms.

And then—another shot.

The pain doubled. You gasped, the sound barely escaping your lips. A single tear slipped down your cheek as your vision blurred as you landed in his arms

Hardik’s arms tightened around you. His heartbeat, so steady before, now thundered like a war drum. His breath was ragged. His hands—those same hands that once pushed you away, dismissed you, even hurt you—were now trembling as they held you.

For the first time, he saw it—the way you had loved him, despite every reason not to.

And now, you were slipping away in his arms.