When Shubman Gill, India's cricket sensation, meets the Radhika Sharma, their worlds collide in an unexpected twist of fate. Radhika, the protected sister of captain Rohit Sharma, has lived a life of anonymity, known only to a trusted circle. Howeve...
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━━Ritika had reached the end of her patience.
The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow through the bedroom windows, and she stood at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips, staring down at the sleeping forms of Rohit and Samaira.
For the past fifteen minutes, she had been trying to rouse them from their deep slumber, but they remained stubbornly asleep, oblivious to her increasingly frustrated attempts.
"Rohit, Samaira, utho na," she called out again, her voice filled with a mixture of exasperation and affection. She leaned down, gently shaking Rohit's shoulder. "Rohit, it's time to get up. Tumhe practice pe jana hai, aur Samaira ko school leke jana hai." [Rohit, Samaira, wake up. Rohit, it's time to get up. You have to go to practice, and you need to take Samaira to school.]
But Rohit, mumbling something completely unintelligible, turned over and pulled the blanket up over his head as if it were a shield against the intruding daylight and all its demands.
Samaira, snuggled close to her father like a little koala, let out a small sigh but didn't so much as stir a finger. Like father, like daughter, both utterly and blissfully lost to the land of dreams, where alarms and schedules didn't exist.
Ritika sighed deeply, the sound echoing her frustration, and straightened up, crossing her arms in a stance that spoke volumes about her determination.
Her gaze shifted back and forth between her husband and daughter, both of whom were wrapped up in their cocoon of sleep. This was a daily struggle, one she was all too familiar with, but today she was resolved not to lose this battle. Not this time.
With a determined glint in her eye, she leaned down once more, this time yanking the blanket off them both with a swift, decisive motion that left no room for negotiation. "Rohit, Samaira, bas ab bohot ho gaya. Utho ab!" she declared, her voice a tad louder and infused with that firm, no-nonsense tone that brooked no argument. [Rohit, Samaira, enough now. Get up!]
Rohit groaned, squinting up at her with bleary eyes that barely managed to open. "Ritika, thoda aur so lene de na," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and reluctance. [Ritika, let me sleep a little longer.]
"Rohit Sharma, main warn kar rahi hoon," Ritika said, her hands firmly planted on her hips, her tone taking on that firm edge that meant business. "Agar tum dono abhi nahi uthe, toh main paani dal dungi." [Rohit Sharma, I'm warning you. If you two don't get up right now, I'll throw water on you.]
At this, Samaira's eyes fluttered open slowly, her sleepy gaze meeting her mother's determined one. She rubbed her eyes with her small fists, trying to shake off the remnants of her dream-filled slumber. "Mumma, paani mat daalo," she murmured, her voice a soft plea. "Main uth rahi hoon." [Mumma, don't throw water. I'm getting up.]
