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Mid-August. Time: 11:30 p.m.
Shubman Gill, a 17-year-old teenager was still wide awake, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling fan, which was spinning slowly, due to low voltage. He looked around his room, taking in how he had gone from a small kid with an obsession for cricket to a teenager being selected in the Under 19 Indian Cricket Team, as the Vice Captain, no less.
He took in the way, posters of cricketing legends were stuck on the walls, on his wardrobe door, shelves lined with trophies, and certificates, dress hooks, with his jerseys, and a separate hook stand with all his medals.
He had achieved a lot already for, just a 17-year-old.
He then turned to look at his right, when his eyes fell on the nightstand. His phone was resting on it, glowing slightly, as it charged. Next to it was his watch, which his dad had gifted him. Then he saw the tiny Polaroid photo of himself and his best friend.
Ira Deus.
He had met Ira when they were 14, and they had ended up in the same classroom. She was already known on campus for her creativity, music skills, and kindness. Also, the fact that she was the topper in literally everything, except maths. She was average in maths.
The photo was taken that year on her birthday, literally the day after New Year. The 2 were standing next to each other, his hand around her shoulder.
He was dressed in a navy blue shirt, and jeans with sneakers, whereas she was in a black satin dress that fell to her knees, with simple black ankle boots. Her hair was in a messy bun, with a few strands on her face, and he could still remember how he had adjusted the lip gloss for her that night after noticing how it was a little smudged near her lips.
She looked drop-dead gorgeous.
And man, they were officially graduating the next day.
He was still thinking about it when his phone notification went off.
