SRH promotional days were Ishan’s natural habitat.

Noise. Cameras. Laughter. Absolute nonsense.

The dressing room after practice was humid, loud, and smelled like deodorant and sweat.

And in the center of it all—

Ishan.

Wrapped in nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips.

Hair wet.

Grinning like a menace.

In front of him stood Abhishek, still in his practice shorts, jersey discarded somewhere, chest bare and flushed from training.

ISHAN'S POV

“I’m telling you,” i  announced dramatically, “team bonding improves performance. We should shower together. Save water. Save the planet.”

The dressing room erupted in laughter.

Abhishek blinked. “You’re insane.”

“I am innovative.”

“You’re banned from my bathroom.”

“You’re just scared I’ll outshine you even in shower presence.”

A shoe flew in his direction.

Ishan dodged it effortlessly.

Other teammates whistled.

“Let him cook!”

“SRH eco-friendly couple!”

“Record this, we need blackmail material!”

Ishan turned, striking a fake model pose with his towel. “Gentlemen, discipline is temporary. Drama is eternal.”

The door opened.

No one noticed at first.

Until the laughter slowly died.

One by one, heads turned.

Coach stood at the entrance.

And beside him—

Perfectly tailored charcoal suit.

Impeccable posture.

Cold, assessing eyes.

Shubman Gill.

Behind him stood Kabir.

Tall. Quiet. Watching.

Kabir — Ishan’s best friend’s elder brother.

Corporate strategist.

The kind of man who looked like he read contracts for breakfast.

The room froze.

Ishan didn’t.

He was mid-pose.

Towel. Bare shoulders. Chaos.

Then he slowly turned toward the door.

And met Shubman’s eyes.

The air changed.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just—

tight.

Coach cleared his throat. “We have sponsors visiting. Behave.”

A teammate coughed to hide a laugh.

Ishan straightened but didn’t move to grab clothes.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly.

“Didn’t know we were hosting royalty.”

Shubman’s gaze traveled — not lingering, but not hurried either.

Measured.

Assessing.

Clinical.

Like evaluating a high-risk investment.

Kabir’s expression twitched like he was trying not to smirk.

Abhishek quickly grabbed his jersey and pulled it over his head.

Traitor.

Ishan crossed his arms.

The towel shifted slightly.

Several teammates looked away immediately.

Shubman did not.

“Practice over?” Shubman asked calmly.

“Yes,” Coach replied. “Promotional meeting in ten.”

Shubman’s eyes returned to Ishan.

“You should get dressed.”

Not angry.

Not jealous.

Just—

controlled.

Ishan raised an eyebrow.

“Why? Distracting?”

A few teammates audibly inhaled.

Kabir looked down, pretending to check his phone.

Shubman stepped forward.

Not into the room.

Just enough to close distance.

His voice lowered slightly.

“You represent the team.”

“And?” Ishan challenged.

“And you represent my family.”

The words landed.

Heavy.

Possessive.

Not loud.

But deliberate.

The room felt smaller.

Ishan’s smirk faltered for half a second.

Only half.

“Oh?” he said lightly. “Last I checked, I represent myself.”

Shubman’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Coach sensed danger.

“Meeting room. Ten minutes,” he barked and left.

Kabir followed, but not before giving Ishan a look that clearly said: behave.

Now it was just teammates pretending not to watch.

And the husband who never raised his voice.

Shubman stepped closer.

Close enough that only Ishan could hear.

“You enjoy testing limits.”

Ishan leaned forward.

“And you enjoy pretending you don’t care.”

A beat.

Shubman’s gaze dropped briefly to the towel knot.

Then back to his eyes.

“Be ready in five.”

He turned and walked out.

No shouting.

No threats.

No drama.

Which was somehow worse.

The moment the door shut—

The dressing room exploded.

“OHHHHHHH.”

“Sir energy!”

“Brother is gone!”

“Why was that so intense?!”

Abhishek stared at Ishan. “You’re dead.”

Ishan grabbed his jersey finally, heart beating faster than it should.

“He’s dramatic,” he muttered.

But his pulse hadn’t stabilized.

Because when Shubman said—

You represent my family.

It didn’t sound like PR.

It sounded like ownership.

And for the first time since the wedding—

Ishan felt something unfamiliar.

Not anger.

Not irritation.

Not even

hatred.

Possession.

And it scared him.

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To be continue...

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Author's note

DEEWANGI'S  POSTER IS READY..

REVEAL IT ON THE  10 th chapter of this story.

Introduction will reveal in after 15 chapter

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Stay tuned 😉