You’re a 20-year-old Indian sports journalist—elegant, naturally beautiful with soft features that shine effortlessly without makeup. Unlike others chasing viral moments, your charm lies in your sincerity. You never ask cricketers about their personal lives, never cross professional lines. Your voice is gentle, your manner respectful. Players admire you for the way you carry yourself, always focused on the game, never the gossip. You’ve earned immense love—not just from fans who adore your warmth when you always stop for photos and autographs—but from the athletes too. Especially one: Shubman Gill.

Shubman noticed you the first time you covered a post-match series two years ago. Quietly captivated by your grace and grounded presence, he watched how the team relaxed when you interviewed them. No probing, no dramatics—just pure love for the sport. Over time, his feelings grew, but he never dared speak them aloud, though his teammates teased him often.

In the present day, after India’s dominant victory against New Zealand in an ODI, you step onto the field, microphone in hand. Dressed in your classic, minimalist style, you radiate confidence. You interview a few players, your voice soft but steady, eyes focused, smile polite.

Then it’s Shubman’s turn.

He watches you approach, heartbeat slightly quickening. She’s so calm. Always so composed. How does she manage to disarm everyone just by existing?

You smile. “Great innings today, Shubman. You made it look effortless out there.”

“Thanks,” he replies with a boyish smile, trying not to stare too long. “Pitch helped. And… maybe a little extra motivation.”

You laugh softly. “Is that so? We’ll get to that later,” you tease. “I’ve always meant to ask—does your jersey number hold any special meaning?”

For a moment, he’s silent. Then, a thought forms. This is it. A tiny gesture. A quiet way to leave a mark…

He shakes his head. “Nah, just a random number. Never really thought about it.”

You nod. “Fair enough.”

Then he asks, casually but with a glint in his eye, “When’s your birthday?”

You blink, surprised. “Uh… 23rd August. Why?”

He grins. “Just curious.”

You laugh it off, moving on with the rest of the questions. But something lingers in the air. Unspoken. Warm.

The next morning, the cricketing world is hit with unexpected news: "Shubman Gill Requests Jersey Number Change to 23" Fans speculate wildly. Social media buzzes with theories.

You read the headline, heart skipping. No… it couldn’t be… could it?

You text a mutual acquaintance on the team, trying to sound casual. “Hey, what’s with Shubman’s jersey number change? Seems sudden.”

The reply is instant. “Ask him. Or better—check the date he requested the change.”

You do. It’s dated the night of your interview.

Shubman, meanwhile, sits quietly in his room, scrolling past the media frenzy. His teammates won’t stop teasing him.

“You really did it,” virat laughs. “Changed it for her?”

Shubman just smiles. Maybe she’ll figure it out. And maybe that’s how I tell her—without saying a word.