Shubman Gill, a young cricketer who just started his cricket debut faces a lot of humiliation during the initial days.
He feels solace in his best friend Avni Jadhav, a Marathi who shifts to Punjab with her parents and becomes the neighbour of Shub...
In the heart of Mumbai, where the skyline is a canvas of architectural marvels, Shubman and Anvi had woven a tapestry of love and companionship. Their relationship, once a delicate thread, had strengthened over time, culminating in a public declaration of their bond on the vibrant stage of social media. Together, they had embarked on a new chapter, setting up a shared home in the bustling metropolis. Anvi, with her insightful mind and healing touch, had established herself as a successful psychologist, her clinic a sanctuary for those seeking solace.
Their abode was a reflection of their dreams, adorned with the latest in interior design, where technology met comfort in a seamless blend. The garden, a splash of green amidst the concrete, was their personal retreat, where flowers danced to the rhythm of the city's breeze.
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As Shubman returned from the cricket grounds, weary yet fulfilled, Anvi would be there, her arms open, her embrace a haven. "How was practice?" she would inquire, her voice a melody that soothed his tired muscles. His reply, often nonchalant, "It was okay," would be met with a kiss, a silent message of support, followed by her gentle nudge, "Go and shower, I have made dinner."
The evening unfolded with a sense of routine, Shubman fresh from the shower, the television flickering to life, its screen soon to reveal the fates of those in the cricketing world. The IPL 2022 was upon them, and with it, the announcement of the players who would be released and retained.
As the names were read out, a list of comrades and competitors, the moment of truth arrived. Shah Rukh Khan's voice, a familiar comfort, now carried a weight that sent the remote tumbling from Shubman's grasp. "We are releasing Shubman Gill..." The words hung in the air, a specter of uncertainty that clouded his vision. Anvi, sensing the turmoil, rushed to his side, her questions laced with concern. "Shub, are you alright?"
The revelation left his lips in a stutter, "K-KKR, r-released m-me." The shock was palpable, shared in the tightness of Anvi's embrace, her reassurance a whisper against the storm, "Shh... it's okay. Maybe some other team might take you. Don't worry." Dinner passed in a hush, their thoughts a tangled mess, but their proximity a reminder of the constancy of their love.
Night gave way to morning, and with it, a call that pierced the silence. Ashish Nehra's voice, a herald of new beginnings, spoke of the Gujarat Titans, a new team, a new hope. "Would you like to play for the team?" he asked. Shubman's response was immediate, affirmative, a lifeline grasped with both hands, "Sure sir, I would love to play for the team."
As the call ended, Shubman's gaze fell upon Anvi, her slumber undisturbed. He rose, a man renewed, and as the television announced his name among the chosen for the Gujarat Titans, Anvi's voice joined the chorus of congratulations. "Wow! New team. See, you are selected."
Plans were set in motion, bags packed with the precision of a man on a mission. Shubman's journey to Ahmedabad was imminent, a solo voyage, but not without the promise of Anvi's presence at the Wankhede matches.
