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The scandal broke on a Tuesday.

It started small-an anonymous blog post. A blurry picture. A shadowy image of Virat standing close to a man on his balcony, hand resting casually against the small of his back.

It could've been anyone.

But the internet wasn't known for mercy.

Within hours, the photo was everywhere. Zoomed in, analyzed, dissected. And someone, somehow, had confirmed the man's identity.

"Kohli Corporates' CEO Allegedly Dating His Secretary?"
"Private Balcony. Private Moment. But Not So Private Anymore."

Rohit stared at the headline, heart pounding.

He was at his desk when it happened. The whispers had already begun. His phone buzzed with dozens of messages. Some from friends. Others from strangers. A few cruel.

He didn't care about the gossip.

He cared about one thing:

How would Virat handle this?

Because if there was one thing he knew about the man-it was that Virat hated vulnerability. And now the entire world was holding up a mirror.

The office door stayed closed all morning.

No one dared enter.

Rohit sat still, every instinct screaming at him to do something, say something. But he waited. Waited until the clock hit noon-then stood, straightened his shirt, and walked in without knocking.

Virat looked up from behind the desk, face unreadable.

The tabloid printout lay open beside his laptop.

"You saw," Rohit said softly.

Virat didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Rohit's chest tightened. "Are you okay?"

Virat leaned back in his chair, fingers laced together, jaw clenched. "This is exactly why I didn't want to feel anything."

"Virat-"

"I built everything by keeping my personal life out of reach," Virat said, voice sharp. "Now they'll rip it apart. You. Me. The company. They don't care what's true-they just want a story."

Rohit stepped closer. "We are a story, Virat. A real one. And no one else gets to write it but us."

Virat looked at him then-finally, really looked at him.

His voice dropped. "Are you scared?"

Rohit smiled faintly, even though his hands were cold. "Terrified. But not of them. Just of losing you again."

Something in Virat broke. Just slightly.

He stood slowly, came around the desk, and pulled Rohit into a firm embrace.

"I'm not going to run," he murmured into his hair. "Not this time."

---

The next day, Virat Kohli made a statement.

At a press briefing, surrounded by reporters, he stood behind a podium with calm authority-and said:

> "What I do outside the boardroom does not affect how I lead within it. Yes, the photo is real. Yes, the man is Rohit Sharma. And no, I'm not ashamed."

> "That will be all."

It was bold. Brief. Final.

Rohit watched it unfold live from his apartment, tears in his eyes and pride swelling in his chest.

Because this-this was the same man who once couldn't admit he cared.

Now telling the world he did.

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Love Love Love.
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