|14.1

                                    

                                          
The floodlights illuminated the cricket field as India celebrated a convincing win against their rivals. Ishan Kishan stood near the boundary rope, laughing at Shubman Gill’s poor attempt at a joke. His sparkling eyes and carefree laugh made him look radiant even after hours of grueling cricket. Shubman smirked, leaning closer. “Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he teased, nudging Ishan with his shoulder.
“You wish, Gill! That joke was as lame as your dance moves at the last team party,” Ishan quipped, a playful glint in his eye.
From a distance, Virat Kohli watched the scene unfold, his jaw tightening. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Shubman leaning so casually toward Ishan. Something about their closeness made his chest tighten, a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to—jealousy.
“Yeh dono kaafi comfortable lag rahe hain, huh?” Rohit Sharma’s teasing voice pulled Virat out of his thoughts. Standing beside him, Rohit had clearly noticed where Virat’s attention lay.
Virat turned his head sharply, trying to mask his irritation. “They’re teammates. Of course, they’re comfortable,” he replied curtly, though his clenched fists told a different story.
Rohit smirked knowingly. “Teammates, huh? Well, you don’t seem to like it. Jealous ho raha hai kya?”
Virat shot him a glare. “Don’t start, Rohit. Tumhe pata hai why we’re keeping this a secret.”
“Relax, yaar. I’m just saying, you might want to do something about Shubman before he gets too comfortable.” Rohit’s tone was light, but his words hit their mark.
As the team gathered in the dressing room, the air was filled with celebration and banter. Ishan, as always, was at the center of the jokes. Shubman playfully threw a towel at him, making Ishan laugh even harder. Virat sat in the corner, silently observing, his mood souring with every laugh.
“Kya hua, skipper? Why are you sulking?” KL Rahul asked, plopping down beside Virat.
“I’m not sulking,” Virat replied, his tone sharp. “I’m just tired.”
KL raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he joined the others, leaving Virat to stew in his thoughts.
As the team wrapped up and headed to their hotel, Virat found Ishan chatting animatedly with Shubman in the lobby. The younger man’s smile was infectious, and Virat couldn’t help but soften for a moment. But when Shubman placed a hand on Ishan’s shoulder, the jealousy flared again.
“Ishan!” Virat’s voice was sharper than he intended, cutting through the conversation.
Ishan turned, his brows furrowing slightly at Virat’s tone. “Haan, kya hua?”
“Let’s go. It’s late,” Virat said, not bothering to hide his impatience.
Shubman looked between the two, his expression amused. “Kya yaar, Virat bhai? Abhi toh baat kar rahe the.”
“I’m sure whatever you’re talking about can wait,” Virat replied coolly, his eyes locking with Shubman’s in a silent challenge.
Ishan sighed, sensing the tension. “Chalo, Shubman. Kal baat karenge. Goodnight!”
As they walked to their shared room, Ishan couldn’t help but glance at Virat, who was unusually quiet. Once inside, he finally broke the silence. “Virat, kya problem hai? You’ve been acting weird the whole evening.”
Virat threw his bag onto the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Problem? Mera problem yeh hai ki Shubman tumhare aas paas ghoomta rehta hai, aur tumhe fark bhi nahi padta!”
Ishan stared at him, taken aback. “Shubman aur main sirf dost hain! Tum yeh sab kyun soch rahe ho?”
“Sirf dost?” Virat let out a bitter laugh. “Tumhe pata bhi hai woh tumpe kaise nazar rakhta hai? The way he looks at you—it’s not just friendly, Ishan.”
“Virat, tum overreact kar rahe ho,” Ishan said firmly, crossing his arms. “Aur waise bhi, tumhe kis baat ki tension hai? Tumhe pata hai ki mera dil kahan hai.”
Those words made Virat pause. His anger softened, replaced by a vulnerability he rarely showed. “I know, Ishan,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Par jab main tumhe uske saath dekhta hoon... I can’t help it. Tum mere ho, aur mujhe yeh baat sabko dikhani hai.”
Ishan’s expression softened as he placed a hand on Virat’s chest. “Aur tumhe pata hai na, main sirf tumhara hoon? Toh yeh insecure hona band karo.”
Virat cupped Ishan’s face, his thumb brushing against his cheek. “Main tumhe kisi ke saath share nahi kar sakta, Ishan. Not even for a second.”
Ishan smiled, his voice teasing. “Toh kya karoge, captain? Sabko bata doge ki main tumhara hoon?”
Virat smirked, his possessiveness flaring once again. “Shaayad mujhe kuch aisa hi karna pade.”
Unbeknownst to them, Rohit, whose room was adjacent to theirs, had overheard snippets of their conversation. Shaking his head with a smile, he muttered, “Yeh dono kabhi nahi sudhrenge.”
As the night wore on, Virat pulled Ishan closer, wrapping his arms around him protectively. “Kal ke match ke baad, sabko pata chalne do. I’m done hiding,” he whispered.
Ishan’s eyes widened. “Virat! Tum serious ho?”
“Bilkul,” Virat replied, his voice firm. “I’m not going to let anyone, especially Shubman, think they have a chance with you.”
Ishan sighed, burying his face in Virat’s chest. “Tum pagal ho, Virat.”
“Sirf tumhare liye,” Virat murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair.
The next day promised to be eventful, with secrets on the verge of being revealed and relationships put to the test. But for now, in the quiet of their room, Virat and Ishan found solace in each other, their bond unshakable.
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Someone requested me to write on this plot... Please check whoever is that, I hope you like it.