Shubman Gill an emerging cricketer who is the apple of the eye of Rohit and Virat needs to marry Rohit's sister Aditi Sharma who is a singer due to certain circumstances.
Will there be love between them? Or will there be just the responsibilities be...
The shrill ring of his phone pierced the silence of the early morning, jolting Shubman from his restless slumber. Groggily, he reached out, his hand fumbling for the source of the disturbance. As he pressed the phone to his ear, the voice of the commissioner crackled through, urgent and somber, "Shubman, we've been on Aditi's trail. The last ping from her phone came from the outskirts of Chandigarh. Our team is combing the area for any leads. I promise to keep you informed of any developments."
With a heavy heart, Shubman responded, a simple "Okay sir," masking the turmoil within. As he ended the call, his gaze fell upon Shahneel, who had dozed off while keeping vigil. With tender care, he adjusted her position on the bed, ensuring her comfort. Leaning close, he whispered a heartfelt "Thank you, di. Your support means the world to me," his words a soft murmur in the quiet room.
Seeking solace in routine, Shubman made his way to the bathroom. The warm cascade of the shower did little to wash away his worries, but he emerged clad in comfortable attire, a semblance of normalcy in the chaos that had enveloped his life.
Returning to his room, he was drawn to the balcony, a place where thoughts and memories often intertwined. There, he stood, eyes closed, allowing the flood of recollections to wash over him—moments of joy and laughter shared with Aditi. It was a bittersweet reverie, interrupted only by the gentle touch of a hand upon his shoulder.
Startled, he turned to find Keart, his mother, standing beside him. Her presence was a beacon of strength in his sea of uncertainty. Embracing her tightly, he sought the reassurance he so desperately needed, "Ma, will Aditi... will she be alright?"
Keart's response was laced with unwavering conviction, "Yes, my child. She's a warrior, just like us. We'll find her, and soon." Her words were a soothing balm to Shubman's frayed nerves.
He nodded, finding comfort in her embrace. In that moment, Keart was more than just a mother; she was the pillar of hope that held him steady amidst the storm of his emotions. And so, they remained, locked in an embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken bond and shared resolve to bring Aditi home.
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As consciousness crept back into my mind, a throbbing pain seized my temples. My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with a hazy, distorted reality. Confusion clouded my thoughts. Where was I? The air was damp and heavy, the walls around me cold and unyielding. It dawned on me with a chilling realization—I was in a dungeon, a prisoner in my own story.
Panic clawed at my throat, and I struggled to find my voice. It was a silent scream at first, a mere whisper of terror. But then, with a deep, steadying breath, I summoned all my strength and cried out into the void, "HELP!"
The echo of my own desperation bounced off the stone walls before being swallowed by the darkness. Footsteps approached, heavy and foreboding. Three, no, four men emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured, their intentions unknown. "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice quivering with fear. "Why have you kidnapped me?"
