The world knew Shubman Gill as the youngest cricketing sensation of the Indian men’s national team—calm on the field, lethal with the bat, and effortlessly charming. Millions adored him. Cameras followed him everywhere. But behind the fame, behind the stadium lights, there was a life far more personal—one built on loyalty, memories, and a friendship that had survived time.

Your families had been close long before Shubman became a household name. Childhood birthdays, family dinners, festivals—you grew up together. Friendship was never forced; it was natural. While Shubman dedicated his life to cricket, you chose a path no one expected. Mumbai crime branch. Dangerous cases. Sleepless nights.

At a young age, you became Mumbai’s only female five-star detective—the highest authority possible. Respect followed you everywhere. Fear, too. Yet no matter how heavy your responsibilities were, Shubman was never alone.

You attended his matches whenever duty allowed. Sometimes straight from crime scenes, sometimes with bruises hidden beneath jackets. The media noticed it early—the mysterious woman always beside Shubman Gill. For fans, it became normal. For Shubman, it became comfort.

One late night, after a tough series loss, Shubman sat beside you on a hotel balcony.

That was the night you confessed “I like you, Shubman. Not as a friend.”

Shubman went silent. For a long time.

Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair : “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “You’re… you’re my strongest support. My best friend. I never saw you any other way.

You never brought it up again. Never made him uncomfortable. You stayed exactly who you had always been—his constant.

Months later, he told you about Sara. His girlfriend

He noticed how your eyes dimmed—but you still showed up. Still clapped the loudest. Still defended him when criticism came. Still stayed.

Years passed. Now Shubman was planning to propose and you were helping

The terrace was decorated beautifully—warm fairy lights, white roses, soft music in the background. As you adjusted the decorations, Shubman leaned against the railing, pretending to check his phone—but his eyes kept drifting to you.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said quietly

You stayed quiet

Shubman swallowed : “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Your hands paused for just a second. Then you continued arranging the flowers.

That’s when something inside him cracked.

He walked closer : “You still feel the same , don’t you ? I never realized how much you were giving up and how silently you did it