Shubman Gill is facing a lot of problem in his family. His sister moved out because of him to a different country and no one knows where so both Keart and Lakwinder do not talk to them because of this.
Sara Tendulkar is a bubbly and has a loving fam...
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The bustling airport was a cacophony of sounds, but my eyes found Shubman amidst the chaos, his tall frame bent slightly as he spoke intently on the phone. I approached, my heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and sorrow. As I neared, he caught sight of me, and his face broke into a warm, familiar smile. He wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace, the phone still pressed to his ear, signaling the gravity of the conversation that continued to tether him.
After a moment, he gently ended the call, his attention fully turning to me. "I will miss you more than words can express, baby," I whispered, the weight of our impending separation pressing down on me. Shubman pulled me closer, his hug a fortress against the world. "You've always been the light in my life, the one who could chase away the shadows with a mere smile. And now, as I leave for India, the same—"
I silenced his fears with a kiss, soft but filled with all the promises I couldn't voice. "Don't finish that thought. You'll never be alone, not really. I'll be with you, in every call, every message, every shared memory," I assured him, my voice a steady anchor.
He clasped my hands, his eyes searching mine. "Sara, doesn't my life feel like a burden to you?" The question hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. But my answer was immediate, resolute. "Never, not once, baby. Your life is a gift, one that I cherish every day."
Shubman's response was a kiss, a silent thank you etched in the tenderness of his lips. "I have to go," he murmured against my forehead, leaving a kiss there like a whispered secret. I nodded, the gesture a small surrender to reality, and watched him walk towards the boarding gate, each step a small echo in my heart.
Leaving the airport felt like walking through a dream. I drove home mechanically, my thoughts a whirlwind of memories and whispered promises. Once inside, I tried to lose myself in my project, to drown out the silence with focus and determination.
Hours ticked by, marked only by the steady rhythm of my typing. Then, unexpectedly, the doorbell's chime shattered the quiet. Confusion furrowed my brow; no visitors were expected today.
I opened the door to find Shubman standing there, a ghostly pallor to his skin that sent a jolt of concern through me. "Shub, are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with worry.
He nodded, a silent reassurance that didn't quite reach his eyes. I ushered him inside, guiding him to the couch with gentle hands. I fetched him water, which he drank with a thirst that seemed to go beyond the physical.
As I sat beside him, the question on my lips was simple. "What happened?" Instead of words, he offered me an embrace, a haven of warmth in the midst of uncertainty. I held him, feeling the strange mix of alarm and inexplicable positivity that radiated from him. It was an odd sensation, as if the universe was whispering that despite the shadows, there was light just around the corner. And in that moment, I chose to believe it.
Shubman's voice, tinged with an unusual urgency, broke through my thoughts. "Go and open the door. Someone is waiting outside," he said, his gaze fixed on the entrance.
