𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝 [ Shubman Gill ]

Nine

The chaos had only just begun.

Aditi was sitting cross-legged on the couch in Shubman's Mumbai apartment, where they were staying until their new house was being finished, scrolling through Instagram as she munched on some chips. The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the balcony doors, and for a moment, everything seemed blissfully normal, for once.

"Shubman!" she called out lazily. "Tumhara fridge mein kuch interesting nahi hai. I'm craving something spicy."

Shubman appeared from the bedroom, adjusting his tshirt. "Craving? Aditi you become a walking disaster when you start craving something." He shot her a knowing look, still clearly traumatized.

Aditi just rolled her eyes. "Arre, get me something spicy yaar! I'm dying here."

Before Shubman could reply, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it off the coffee table, glancing at the screen. His brow furrowed. "What the..."

"What happened?" Aditi asked, noticing the sudden change in his expression.

Shubman's eyes stayed glued to the phone. "Aditi... we have a problem."

"Problem? Ab kya kiya maine?" she asked, sitting up straight, slightly concerned.

"Not you—well, maybe you too—but this..." He turned the phone around to show her a news alert.

BREAKING NEWS: Shubman Gill and Aditi Sanghvi's SECRET MARRIAGE? Inside the hush-hush wedding of the cricket sensation and his childhood friend!

Aditi's jaw dropped. "Wait, kya?! Secret marriage? Hush-hush?!" She practically lunged for the phone, snatching it out of his hands and reading the article.

The page was filled with blurry, zoomed-in pictures of their wedding day at the resort—the priest chanting mantras, Shubman's worried face, and Aditi's mixed look of pure mischief accompanied by disinterest as they exchanged garlands. The headline screamed at them, and the comments section was already filling up with conspiracy theories and speculations.

"Oh my god," Aditi gasped. "They know. THEY KNOW!"

Shubman groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I knew this would happen! Mere dimag mein pehle se tha, lekin nahi, tumhare 'let's get married for fun' ke chakkar mein sabko pata chal gaya!"

"Arre yaar, relax karo," Aditi said, trying to calm him down, though she was internally freaking out. "Media always does this. They exaggerate everything. It'll blow over."

"Blow over?" Shubman repeated, his voice rising. "This is the Indian media we're talking about! Tumhe lagta hai ki yeh 'blow over' karega? Sab reporters mere ghar ke neeche aa jayenge in the next five minutes, and they'll want to know every detail!"

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, startling both of them. Aditi exchanged a panicked glance with Shubman. "Oh no," she whispered. "Do you think—?"

"Haan, obviously yahi log honge," Shubman muttered under his breath, already imagining the scene downstairs.

Reluctantly, he went to the door and peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, a small crowd of reporters had gathered just outside the building, cameras and microphones at the ready. Some had even managed to get past security and were standing at the door to his apartment.