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ok I have no Idea how is this..
Just Tell me, and if you think this is too early then I don't know what to do. I need this for further story planning. For this Brain Tumor Romance, I need All your guy's Power stone because remember if we hit 200 power stone then one random person would get free 1-month Patreon Subscription for complete free.
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The night air in Mumbai carried that mild saltiness only the sea could give — a faint reminder that the world beyond fame and family still moved with its own rhythm.Inside the Tendulkar residence, the same calm world hummed with a quiet nervous energy.
The clock on the wall read 6:15 PM.
Upstairs, in his room, Aarav Pathak sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, heart still pacing from the morning's chaos. His parents were getting ready downstairs, calm and collected as always, but he was still replaying Sachin's words in his head.
Then he exhaled and pressed call.
Shradha.
The phone rang once. Twice.
Then her voice burst through — soft, hurried, slightly panicked."Shradha! What the hell was that?"
She winced. "Yeah, good evening to you too."
"Don't 'good evening' me!", Aarav Said.
Shradha, "My parents found out because of a stupid video!"
He rubbed his forehead. "Yeah? Sachin Sir called me. Asked me to bring my family tonight."
Shradha sighed, guilt in her voice. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"I know," Aarav said softly. "But maybe it's for the best. They'll know we weren't hiding anything wrong."
She hesitated. "You really think so?"
"But listen," she said quickly. "Gill is coming too. With his parents. He also got to know about Sara and Shubh."
Aarav blinked. "Wait, what? Both of us? Same dinner?"
"Yes," she said helplessly. "Apparently Papa called both families. It's like… a joint parent-teacher meeting."
Aarav groaned. "Bas yehi bacha tha (This was the only thing missing)."
"Hey!" she scolded. "Be nice! Papa's calm but Mumma's… well, you'll see."
"I already can feel the pressure," Aarav said, laughing nervously. "But don't worry. I'll handle it. You just don't let Shubh say anything stupid."
"No promises," she replied dryly.
They both laughed — the kind of laughter that came only from people who knew fear and love could live side by side.
"I'll see you soon," Aarav said finally.
"Yeah," she said softly. "See you soon."
Downstairs, in the master bedroom, Anjali Tendulkar lay against the headboard, scrolling through her messages while Sachin sat beside her, polishing his glasses with a handkerchief — an unconscious habit that always appeared before something important.
"Should we call Arjun from Bengaluru?" Anjali asked suddenly. "He's at NCA training."
Sachin looked up and smiled faintly. "No. Let him focus on his training. This is our responsibility as parents, not his."
Anjali nodded, though a trace of longing crossed her face. "He's grown up so fast."
"He'll find his way," Sachin said gently. "Just like the girls."
Anjali sighed, then stood, smoothing her dupatta. "Fine. I'll check in the kitchen."
The kitchen was alive — two servants moved about, arranging dishes with professional rhythm: plates of paneer tikka, dal makhani, and a slow-cooked mutton rogan josh filling the air with a homely, comforting scent.
"Madam," one of them said, "sab ready hai (everything is ready)."
Anjali smiled, rolling up her sleeves. "Good, but I'll help too."
And as the aroma of spices filled the air, the calm woman who had once been furious now worked with quiet purpose — because sometimes, love for your children meant serving warmth instead of words.
7:05 PM — Arrival
The clock struck seven when the sound of heels echoed down the stairs.
Sara descended first — dressed in an elegant cream suit, her hair tied back neatly, her face calm but her eyes restless.
"Mumma," she said, "the Shubhaman and his family are on their way."
Anjali nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. "Good. Let's go."
Sachin joined them in the foyer, wearing a simple sky-blue kurta, exuding the calm of a man who had faced stadiums louder than storms.
Outside, the driveway lights glowed warmly.
A few moments later, the hum of an engine broke the silence.
A Mahindra Thar, shining black, rolled to a stop. Shubman Gill stepped out from the driver's seat, adjusting his collar, followed by his parents — Lakhwinder Singh Gill, large-hearted and slightly overwhelmed, Kirat Gill, eyes wide with excitement, and their daughter Shaheen, holding a bouquet.
"Namaste, sir!" Lakhwinder said loudly, joining his hands. "It's an honour, ji!"
Sachin smiled and stepped forward. "Namaste, Mr. Gill. So glad you came."
Anjali came forward too, her smile kind but observant. "Welcome."
As the families exchanged greetings and hugs, another deep purr of an engine filled the driveway.
This time, it was a black Range Rover SV, gleaming under the porch lights.
Aarav stepped out from the driver's seat, his crisp navy shirt and confidence cutting through the evening air, followed by Raj and Priya Pathak — poised, graceful, and unmistakably composed.
"Good evening, Sir," Aarav said respectfully, walking forward and bowing slightly.
Sachin smiled warmly. "Good evening, beta."
Aarav bent down, touching his feet. "Aashirwad dijiyega, Sir (please bless me)."
Sachin placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "Khush raho (be happy)."
Priya and Anjali exchanged greetings, and Raj shook Sachin's hand with the warmth of equals — industrialist and icon, both men who understood pressure in different worlds.
Meanwhile, Sara and Shradha appeared at the doorway. Both Aarav and Gill turned at once, smiling — but the girls barely managed a shy wave before Anjali's soft cough reminded them of the audience.
"Bas, bas," Sachin said, chuckling. "Let's go inside before the neighbours start thinking it's a press conference."
Everyone laughed, and the tension lifted like a cloud clearing after rain.
Inside the Living Room
The Tendulkar living room was a blend of elegance and comfort — trophies glinting subtly on a shelf, the aroma of sandalwood lingering faintly. Everyone took their seats on two facing sofas.
Aarav sat beside his parents, Gill beside his. Shradha and Sara perched quietly near Anjali, stealing glances they hoped went unnoticed.
Sachin began, his tone calm and warm. "So… here we are. It's not every day one's home becomes a mini team meeting."
Everyone laughed softly.
Raj Pathak spoke next, his voice measured. "We're honoured to be here, Sachin ji. Aarav respects you greatly. I think that shows in how nervous he's been since morning."
"Papa!" Aarav whispered, embarrassed, earning a round of laughter.
Anjali smiled faintly. "We didn't expect both families to meet like this. But maybe it's good. Better to talk as parents, not as headlines."
Priya nodded. "Exactly. The world outside is quick to misunderstand, especially when people live under cameras."
Gill's father leaned forward. "You are right, ji. But let me tell you one thing — my Shubman may be a cricketer, but when it comes to our family, he's still just my son who forgets to switch off the geyser."
Everyone laughed, the warmth of Punjabi candour breaking the stiffness.
Sachin smiled. "It's good to hear that. Fame doesn't change the people who stay grounded."
Gill smiled shyly. "Sir, I'm trying."
Sachin nodded approvingly.
Then he turned to Aarav. "And you, Aarav?"
Aarav straightened instinctively. "Sir?"
"You're the busiest man in India right now," Sachin said lightly. "How did you find time for all this?"
Laughter rippled again. Aarav blushed faintly. "Sir, I found time because… she's worth it and my day can't be completed without hearing her voice."
The room went quiet for a second. Shradha's cheeks turned pink.
Anjali smiled softly, half proud, half emotional. "Honest boy."
Raj nodded. "That's one thing I'll always admire in him."
Then Sachin leaned forward slightly. His tone grew more serious, fatherly. "I know what this life is, beta. The lights, the noise, the temptations. You both — Aarav and Gill — have seen what the world does to people who live in the public eye."
Both boys nodded respectfully.
"So if you truly care for them," he continued, his voice steady, "then respect them — not just as daughters of Sachin Tendulkar, but as women with their own dreams. Don't let love distract you; let it guide you."
The sincerity in his voice filled the room. Aarav looked him in the eye. "I understand, Sir. And I promise you — I'll never let anything I do bring dishonour to your family. Or to her."
Gill followed quietly, his own tone firm. "Same from my side, Sir. Sara's happiness means more to me than cricket ever could."
Lakhwinder patted his son's back proudly. "That's my boy!"
Even Sachin smiled, visibly pleased.
Anjali, meanwhile, looked at Shradha and Sara — both sitting quietly, eyes moist but shining.
"Dekha?" she said softly. "Even they talk better than you two fight."
"Mumma!" both daughters protested in unison, making everyone laugh.
The laughter echoed through the house — soft, genuine, like the beginning of a shared melody.
As the clock neared eight, Anjali stood. "Shall we move to dinner?"
"Of course," Priya said, standing gracefully.
They all moved to the dining room, where a long teakwood table gleamed under warm lights. Dishes of North and South Indian food covered the surface — dal, paneer, biryani, butter chicken, steamed rice, soft rotis stacked neatly.
"It smells divine," Priya said sincerely.
Anjali smiled. "Homemade. I believe food tastes best when cooked with a little panic and a lot of love."
Lakhwinder laughed heartily. "Haanji, bilkul sahi (absolutely right)! My wife says the same thing."
Everyone settled — the Pathaks on one side, the Gills on the other, and the Tendulkars at the head of the table.
As dinner began, conversation flowed easily — about cricket, college, training camps, the pressures of fame. Sachin and Raj discussed discipline and consistency, while Lakhwinder proudly told stories of how Gill once hit a ball so far it broke their neighbour's window.
Priya laughed. "Boys never change, no matter the background."
Shradha and Sara exchanged amused glances.
Aarav looked across the table at Shradha — their eyes meeting for the briefest second — and in that moment, amid parents and conversation and clinking cutlery, a silent understanding passed between them:The storm was over. The real innings had just begun.
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Dinner had ended, but the fragrance of home-cooked food still lingered in the air — warm, comforting, full of unspoken emotions. The Tendulkar residence was quieter now; laughter had softened into calm conversation. The night outside hummed with the gentle rhythm of waves kissing the distant shore.
Sachin Tendulkar stood from his chair, his expression gentle but firm. "Girls," he said, looking at Sara and Shradha, "why don't you and the boys step outside to the lawn for a while? The parents have some things to discuss."
Shradha's eyes widened slightly — she knew that tone. It was the same one he used after a tough loss on the field; calm, serious, decisive. Aarav caught her glance and gave a small reassuring smile before nodding to Sachin. "Yes, Sir."
Gill and Sara stood too, exchanging nervous glances. "We'll be outside, Sir," Gill said politely.
As the four of them stepped out, the adults remained seated — an unspoken shift of energy filling the room. The air inside felt heavier, but outside, under the open sky, it was softer, freer.
Aarav's footsteps were soundless as he followed Shradha upstairs. They entered her room — the soft scent of jasmine candles still lingering from earlier. The curtains danced faintly with the sea breeze.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Shradha turned — and before either could speak, Aarav pulled her into a tight embrace. The world outside, with its fame, cameras, and expectations, vanished. In that hug, there were only two people who had finally stopped hiding.
Shradha closed her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder. "I thought it would all go wrong," she whispered. "That they'd never understand."
Aarav held her tighter. "It almost did," he murmured, his hand running gently through her hair. "But it didn't. They're not angry, Shrads. They just… needed to see what we already knew."
She leaned back slightly, looking up at him. "And what's that?"
"That we're serious," Aarav said softly. "That this isn't some headline romance. That I love you — genuinely, completely."
Her eyes softened, shimmering in the faint light. "You always know what to say."
He smiled. "Because it's the truth."
For a while, they said nothing. The silence between them was tender, heavy with relief. Outside, the city lights stretched endlessly across the horizon. Mumbai — the city that had seen every rise and fall — now watched them too.
Shradha exhaled. "This changes everything, doesn't it?"
Aarav nodded slowly. "Yeah. No more hiding. No more pretending we're just friends. No more stolen moments."
"Now everyone knows," she said quietly.
"Everyone who matters," he corrected.
She smiled faintly, but a flicker of anxiety still lingered. "Aarav… do you ever get scared? Of all this?"
He thought for a moment, his gaze distant. "I'm not scared of the world," he said finally. "I've faced pressure all my life. But with you, I just want to be right. I don't want to fail here."
"You won't," she said softly, taking his hand. "You never do."
Aarav's eyes softened. "And what about you? Are you ready for what comes next?"
Shradha hesitated, then nodded. "I've lived my whole life in the public eye. I know what it means to have people whisper your name. But this — this feels different. It's not just a story. It's my life."
He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Ours."
She smiled, a tear slipping free. "Ours."
He wiped it gently. "No more tears tonight. We made it through the worst part."
Shradha leaned into him again, resting her head against his chest. "Promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Whatever happens — good or bad — we don't let the world decide for us."
Aarav tilted his head down, pressing his forehead against hers. "I promise."
They stood there for a while — the hum of the ceiling fan blending with the quiet sea breeze — and for the first time, everything felt real, permanent, sacred.
Back downstairs, the parents sat in the Tendulkar living room. The earlier warmth of conversation was gone, replaced by measured silence. Cups of chai steamed untouched on the table.
Sachin leaned forward, his hands folded. "We've all been in the public eye," he began. "We know what it's like to have personal things become headlines overnight. So before we decide anything, we need to think with both heart and head."
Raj Pathak nodded. "I agree. The world can turn a private moment into a storm. But from what I've seen, our children are not reckless. They're mature — perhaps more than we were at their age."
Lakhwinder chuckled softly. "Haanji (Yes indeed), that's true. My boy used to run away from tuition to play cricket, and now look — dating Tendulkar's daughter. Even my village friends won't believe it."
Anjali smiled faintly at his honesty. "It's not about disbelief. It's about responsibility. They're young — very young. Love is beautiful, but it can also be fragile."
Priya Pathak spoke gently, her tone practical yet warm. "That's why we need to guide them. Not stop them. Just give it structure — something real, something grounded."
Sachin nodded. "Exactly. We can't treat this like a teenage phase. If we accept it, it must be with sincerity."
Kirat Gill, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. "I've seen Shubman around Sara. It's real, ji. They look at each other like people who've already decided."
Everyone smiled softly at that.
Raj exhaled. "Then perhaps we should consider this a commitment, not an experiment. Something official — but private."
Anjali raised an eyebrow. "Official?"
Raj nodded. "Yes. Let them be engaged — not publicly, of course. Just within families. Give them time to grow, to focus on their careers, to mature. And when the right time comes, we can formalize it properly."
Lakhwinder smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect, ji. After all, love isn't a sprint; it's a long innings."
Sachin chuckled softly at the cricket analogy. "Well said, Mr. Gill."
Anjali looked at each of them, her eyes moist but filled with understanding. "You all are right. Maybe I was just scared. Scared they'd lose themselves in all this attention. But if this is truly love — if they've found the right partners — who are we to stop it?"
Priya reached out, gently placing a hand over hers. "Then it's decided."
Sachin leaned back, his expression calm but relieved. "Yes. We'll treat this with respect. They're too young for marriage, but the bond is real. So let's make it official — privately. No media, no announcements. Just family."
The others nodded in agreement.
Raj smiled. "Then it's settled. Aarav and Shradha, Shubman and Sara — engaged in understanding, bound in trust. When time is right, the rest will follow."
Anjali exhaled deeply, tears glistening. "I can already see them smiling when they hear this."
A few minutes later, the soft sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Aarav and Shradha appeared together, followed by Sara and Gill. They looked nervous — like students awaiting exam results.
"Sit," Sachin said kindly.
The four of them sat across from their parents, glancing at each other anxiously.
Sachin took a deep breath. "We've talked. All of us. And after a lot of thought, we've decided something."
Shradha's fingers twisted nervously in her lap. Aarav reached over quietly and squeezed her hand.
Sachin continued, "We know you both are young. You have dreams, careers, responsibilities. But we also see that what you have is genuine. And so… we've decided to make it official — privately."
Sara blinked. "Official?"
Priya smiled. "Engaged — not publicly, not with media or ceremonies. Just between us, as families. It's a promise — that you belong to each other, and we'll support you."
The silence that followed was filled with disbelief, relief, and joy all at once.
Aarav looked stunned. "Sir… thank you."
Shradha's eyes shimmered with tears. "Mumma…"
Anjali smiled through her own. "Bas, rona mat (No tears now). If we're doing this, we'll do it with smiles."
Sara covered her mouth, half-laughing, half-crying. Gill looked equally emotional, muttering softly, "This is surreal."
Lakhwinder stood and clapped his hands once. "Toh mithai lao! (Then bring the sweets!)"
Everyone laughed — the kind that comes only after a long storm finally ends.
A few moments later, Anjali returned with a tray of sweets. As she placed it on the table, she smiled warmly. "Before we start celebrating too much, remember — this stays within these walls. No one else needs to know until the time is right."
"Promise," all four said in unison.
Sachin nodded approvingly. "Good. Then let's seal it."
He handed the first piece of mithai to Shradha, who offered it to Aarav with trembling hands. Then Sara did the same with Gill. Laughter bubbled again, warm and full.
Overwhelmed with joy, Aarav turned to Shradha, and before he could think, he pulled her into a brief, tight hug. Gill, too, embraced Sara gently.
A sharp, deliberate cough from Anjali broke the moment. "Bas, bas. Not in front of elders," she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
Everyone burst out laughing. The couples blushed, stepping apart but still holding hands discreetly.
Shradha whispered to Aarav, "This feels unreal."
Aarav smiled. "It's real now. Finally."
The parents watched them — four young hearts bound not by pressure or protocol, but by something purer. A connection that had begun quietly and now glowed bright under the soft light of understanding.
Sachin raised his cup of chai. "To new beginnings," he said simply.
Raj echoed softly, "To family."
The laughter and chatter resumed, the night outside serene and endless. And amid all of it — in one quiet corner of the living room — Aarav Pathak and Shradha Tendulkar sat side by side, hands intertwined, eyes glimmering with the reflection of the future they'd just been given.
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//below chats are AI Generated//
The laughter from the previous night still seemed to echo through the Tendulkar residence long after the guests had left. It had been a night of promises, tears, and quiet joy — two young couples stepping into a future their families had blessed. The morning sun rose softly over Mumbai, painting the world in warm gold.
In the living room, the parents gathered again. Cups of tea steamed on the table, the air calm but filled with quiet excitement.
Sachin smiled faintly as he looked at the empty cups left from last night's celebration. "It feels strange," he said softly, "thinking we've gained two sons overnight."
Anjali chuckled, sitting beside him. "And they gained two sets of parents. You did hear what Aarav called you last night, didn't you?"
Sachin smiled wider. "Yes — 'Sir.' That has to change."
That afternoon, Sachin called Aarav and Gill into the living room. Both young men entered respectfully, dressed casually but still visibly nervous. Shradha and Sara peeked from the stairs, pretending they weren't eavesdropping.
Sachin motioned for them to sit. "Boys," he began, his tone warm, "after last night, I think it's time we stop this formality."
Aarav straightened. "Sir?"
Sachin smiled. "No more 'Sir.' From now on, it's 'Dad.' Privately, of course."
Both Aarav and Gill froze — shocked, humbled, overwhelmed all at once.
"Dad?" Gill repeated softly, as if testing the word.
Anjali entered from the hallway, her expression soft. "And me," she added, smiling, "you can call 'Mom.'"
Aarav's chest tightened. For a moment, the boy who had faced international bowlers without flinching suddenly didn't know where to look. "I—thank you," he said finally. "That means more than I can say."
Gill smiled too, his usual confidence replaced by quiet gratitude. "Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad."
Sachin chuckled. "Good. Now it sounds right."
At the same time, across town, Raj and Priya Pathak had called Shradha over. "Beta," Priya said warmly, "we had a talk last night after coming home."
Shradha looked uncertain. "What kind of talk?"
Raj smiled. "The kind where we realize we now have a daughter — officially. So from now on, no 'Uncle' or 'Aunty.' Call us Mom and Dad, okay?"
Shradha blinked, her throat tightening. "Really?"
Priya smiled and hugged her. "Of course. We meant it when we said you were family."
And at the Gill apartment, Kirat was already crying before she even finished saying it. "Sara, puttar (daughter), you're one of us now. Call us Mom and Papa. Okay?"
Sara hugged her tightly. "Okay, Mom."
Lakhwinder cleared his throat loudly, trying to hide his emotion. "Oye, just don't start crying again. You'll make me cry too!"
Everyone laughed.
//AI generated Above chats//
That evening, as both families sat together again at the Tendulkars' home, the room filled with soft chatter and planning for the days ahead. But amid the joy, Priya Pathak brought up something practical.
"Now that everything's official," she said, "I think the children should spend some time together — to know each other properly. Not in public, of course. Something private, away from attention."
Anjali nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. That's true. They should understand each other as people, not just names in headlines."
Lakhwinder frowned slightly. "But how? If they go out anywhere here, people will crowd around them. Reporters, fans — sab jaga camera hoga (there will be cameras everywhere)."
Priya nodded. "Exactly. Aarav can't step outside without being recognized. Same for Shubman, and the girls too."
The room fell into thoughtful silence until Raj spoke. "Then we take them somewhere they won't be recognized."
Anjali raised an eyebrow. "You mean abroad?"
"Exactly," Raj said. "A short foreign trip. Somewhere quiet, peaceful, far from cricket and chaos."
Gill's father grinned. "Oho, honeymoon before marriage!"
Everyone laughed at his joke, but Raj shook his head, smiling. "Not honeymoon — discovery. Let them learn who they're going to build a life with."
Sachin nodded, the idea settling comfortably in his mind. "It's a good thought. But where? England, Australia — those are cricket-heavy countries. The boys would be recognized instantly."
Priya leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. "Russia."
Everyone turned to her in surprise.
"Russia?" Anjali repeated.
Priya smiled. "Yes. No cricket, no media frenzy, no paparazzi. It's beautiful, quiet, and safe. And hardly anyone there would recognize Indian cricketers. They could just be… normal couples."
Sachin leaned back, considering it. "Hmm. That might actually work."
Gill's father nodded approvingly. "Good choice! Snow, silence, and no reporters — perfect!"
Shradha and Sara exchanged excited glances from across the room.
"So it's decided then," Sachin said. "A trip to Russia. Two weeks — maybe a little more."
"Fifteen days should be enough," Raj added. "Enough to relax, explore, and return before anyone starts guessing."
Lakhwinder laughed. "Bas, one condition — bring photos! Not for media, for us!"
Everyone laughed again, the warmth of family wrapping the room.
Later that night, when the decision had been made and the families were preparing to leave, Aarav and Shradha stood by the gate under the warm yellow light. The quiet between them was filled with joy.
"I still can't believe it," Shradha said softly. "Russia."
Aarav smiled, his hands in his pockets. "It's perfect. No fans, no cameras, no pressure."
"Just us," she said.
"Just us," he echoed.
She looked up at him, the reflection of the porch light glowing in her eyes. "You know, this feels like a dream."
Aarav smiled. "Then let's make it the kind we never want to wake up from."
She laughed quietly, leaning against his shoulder. "Deal."
Inside, Anjali watched from the window, a faint smile on her face. "Look at them," she said softly. "So young, yet so sure."
Sachin came up beside her, his voice calm. "Let them have this peace while they can. The world will return soon enough."
The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. The Pathaks arranged private jets and ensured discretion.
The four of them — Aarav, Shradha, Gill, and Sara — met almost every day to plan the trip. Maps spread across tables, laughter spilling into conversations about cities and sights.
"Saint Petersburg first," Gill suggested, pointing at the map. "Then Moscow."
Shradha grinned. "And snow! I've never seen real snow!"
Aarav smiled. "Then get ready. I'm going to teach you how to make a snowball."
Sara teased, "Just don't hit him too hard, Shrads. He's India's star allrounder, not your snow target."
Everyone laughed.
Through the laughter, small glances, and shared smiles, a quiet realization settled in: this wasn't just a trip. It was the beginning of something larger — a moment of freedom before life got louder again.
The morning of departure was radiant. Mumbai's airport, bustling as ever, saw four figures quietly moving through the private terminal.
Aarav walked hand in hand with Shradha, his usual composure mixed with excitement. Gill and Sara followed, their banter filling the air.
"Remember," Anjali had said before they left, "this trip is for your hearts, not for Instagram."
"Promise, Mom," both daughters had replied.
"Same goes for you, boys," Sachin had added with a knowing smile. "No press, no cricket talk, and definitely no drama."
"Yes, Dad," both Aarav and Gill had said together, earning a laugh from everyone.
Now, as the private jet's engines hummed to life, the four young souls stood at the threshold of the unknown.
Shradha leaned toward Aarav. "Are you ready?"
He smiled. "For once in my life, Shrads… I think I really am."
Sara nudged Gill playfully. "Bet you'll get lost in the snow."
Gill smirked. "Then you'll just have to find me."
The laughter that followed carried across the runway — light, free, full of promise.
Inside the jet, as the wheels left the ground and Mumbai's skyline blurred beneath them, Aarav glanced out the window and whispered softly, "Here's to new beginnings."
Shradha intertwined her fingers with his. "To love that needs no spotlight."
The plane soared higher, carrying with it four hearts that had found peace beyond the noise of fame — toward a land where no one knew their names, and love could finally breathe in the quiet cold of Russian skies.
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Also After the break the length of the chapters have increase, now each chapter almost each 😅 is more than 4000 or 4500+. 😤😤
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Author's Note: - 4700+ Words (I think my biggest Chapter)
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