You were wrapped in one of Rohit’s oversized hoodies, the warmth of the anniversary candles flickering across your faces as soft music played in the background. The city outside was loud, but in that moment, your little bubble was all that existed. He had rented a private villa for your anniversary—no paparazzi, no fans, just him and you.

Rohit looked at you from across the room, glass of wine in hand, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. God, she's beautiful, he thought. Not just the way your hair curled against your cheek or how your smile made his heart trip—no, it was the fire in your eyes, the way you stood up for justice in court like a warrior. He had faced the fiercest bowlers in the world, but it was your courage that left him breathless.

You walked over and climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands instinctively found your waist, grounding you against him.

"Happy anniversary, Ro," you whispered.

"Happy anniversary, meri jaan," he replied, his thumb brushing your lower back in slow, lazy circles.

There was a moment of silence. The kind that feels too full, too heavy. You bit your lip before finally asking, your voice barely above a whisper:

"Agar ghar wale nahi maane toh kya hum alag ho jayenge?"

He smirked, eyes twinkling with that same teasing charm that made the whole world fall for him—but this time, it was all for you. "Bhaga kar leke jaunga," he said, pulling you closer, his forehead resting against yours.

His voice dropped to a low murmur. "You’re not just anyone. You're my person. They don’t know how you calm me before every match… how you pick me up when I feel like I’ve failed… or how I can be Rohit—the man, not the captain—only when I’m with you."

He cupped your face. "I would give up all the spotlight, all the applause, if that’s what it took to be with you openly. But you know me—I’d rather fight. For you. For us."