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A few months into Shubman and Prapti's secret relationship, things were starting to get a little too... obvious.
It all started with a lazy Sunday morning at the flat. Shubman had an off day from cricket, and Prapti had cancelled her shoots, deciding to lounge around.
They were tangled up on the couch—Shubman's arm draped lazily over Prapti's shoulder as they half-watched a rom-com and half-stared into each other's eyes.
"You know," Prapti murmured, running her fingers through his hair, "they're going to catch on sooner or later."
Shubman chuckled. "Nah, babe, you worry too much. They're all too caught up in their own drama. We're fine."
Just then, his phone pinged.
Group Chat: The Boys.
Ishan: "Yo, breakfast tomorrow at Rohit's? Be there or be square."
Shreyas: "Bet. Shubman, don't ghost again, man. You've been acting sketchy as hell lately."
Shubman rolled his eyes, replying with a quick thumbs-up emoji. But the text had barely been sent before another ping came in—this time, from Virat.
Virat: "Don't think we haven't noticed, Gill. What's up with you lately? You're either disappearing or glued to your phone. Spill it."
"Shit," Shubman muttered under his breath, tossing his phone aside. Prapti raised an eyebrow.
"They're onto you, aren't they?"
He sighed. "They might be suspicious, but they don't know anything. Trust me."
The next morning, at Rohit's place, the boys were already gathered around the table, devouring a spread of food. KL Rahul was leaning back, picking at a bowl of fruit like he wasn't the least bit interested in the conversation. B
ut the others? They were side-eyeing Shubman-like vultures circling prey.
"You've been a little too quiet lately, Gill," Rohit said, his voice casual but laced with curiosity. "What's up?"
