Everyone calls you two a power couple, but that label barely scratches the surface. You’re best friends first—teasing each other during photoshoots, sending memes between press conferences, stealing glances that say more than words ever could. You make everything feel easy—the laughter in grocery aisles, the quiet looks across crowded rooms, the inside jokes whispered just between you. There’s a trust in the way you move around each other, like you’ve always known exactly where to stand. He’s the calm to your chaos; you’re the fire that keeps him warm.

The stadium is a sea of blue and gold, chants of “Indiaaa! Indiaaa!” echoing like a heartbeat through the sky. Flashbulbs pop, the trophy gleams, and his teammates swarm him, slapping his back, lifting him high. But his eyes don’t stay still. Not even for the cameras.