At 23, Shubman Gill wasn’t just India’s youngest cricket sensation—he was the sensation. Talented, charming, and dripping with billionaire-boy-next-door energy, he was admired by millions. But amidst all the flashing cameras, stadium cheers, and autograph seekers, there was one person who truly made his heart race.

You.

A 21-year-old sports journalist. Effortlessly beautiful—soft features, minimal makeup, a voice so gentle that even the toughest players melted when you spoke. You were respected, not just by the audience, but by the entire cricketing world. Your interviews were never scandal-hunting, never invasive. You spoke about the game, about grit, about discipline—and the players loved you for that.

But Shubman ? He loved you, period.

Later that night, after India’s victory and your Interviews wrapped, and your crew was long gone. As you stepped into the dark lot, a voice called from behind:

Shubman: “Hey... you’re not planning to go home alone at this hour, are you?”

It’s late. I’ll drop you home,” he offered, his tone gentle but firm.

You blinked. “I’m okay, really—”

“It’s 2 a.m. in Mumbai,” he cut you off, eyes serious now. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you find a cab alone.”

You looked at him for a second—those warm eyes, the slight nervous twitch in his jaw—and finally nodded. “Alright. Thanks.”

He dropped you home, waited till you got in, and drove off. Only later did he spot something glinting on the seat. A tiny silver jhumka

He picked it up carefully, staring at it for a long moment, then—without a word—clipped it to the zipper of his cricket bag.

The next morning in the dressing room all his teammates saw it

“No way. Is that her earring?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Shubman just smiled.

“Bro… are you seriously keeping that like a souvenir?” Rohit laughed. “Next thing you know, he’ll frame it.”

Virat added, “He’s gone, boys. Our Gill is gone.”

Shubman shrugged, unbothered. “It’s not just an earring, okay? It’s hers. It’s… I don’t know. It feels like she’s around. Between all these crazy schedules and stadiums—it helps.”

There was a brief silence.

Then Rohit slapped his back. “Aww, look at our loverboy.”