The white test jersey always meant something sacred to Shubman. It reminded him of his boyhood dreams - the ones made in dusty Mohali lanes, under a cracked helmet, his father's voice in his head louder than the roar of any crowd.
But this time, it came with an added emblem - Captain.
He stood behind the podium, microphones pushed forward like bayonets. Journalists fired questions like clockwork:
"Shubman, you're India's youngest Test captain in recent history. What's running through your mind?"
"What changes do you plan to bring to the red-ball setup?"
"Big shoes to fill after Rohit Sharma's leadership - do you feel the pressure?"
He answered steadily, calmly - every syllable measured, respectful.
But Rhea, watching from backstage, saw the tell: his thumb gently rubbing the side of his forefinger. A tick from their university days. Nerves cloaked in poise.
---
Shubman stepped away from the cameras, shoulders still tight. Reporters still hovered near the exit, hungry for reaction shots.
Rhea slipped through the security ring, dressed in casual black jeans and a soft white kurta - simple, unassuming, until she reached him.
"You did good," she said.
He exhaled, finally.
"I thought I'd feel proud," he murmured, "but it just feels... heavy."
She slid her fingers between his. "That's because you care. And because you've earned every bit of it."
A beat passed.
"You used to say red-ball cricket was your poetry," she added, voice softer now. "Maybe now... you get to write the next verse."
---
#BREAKING trended across every screen.
"SHUBMAN GILL: NEW ERA FOR INDIAN TEST CRICKET"
"From Vice to Vanguard - The Gill Ascension"
"Golden Boy Becomes White Knight"
Shubman lay on the couch, still in his team polo, phone buzzing nonstop beside him. BCCI posts. Gautam Gambhir's statement. A thousand reposts of his smile.
He didn't touch it.
Rhea walked in with a glass of warm water, placing it on the table.
"Press blitz getting too loud?"
"Everyone's saying congratulations," he muttered. "But all I can think about is the loss in Leeds. And how much I still have to grow."
She sat beside him. "Growth doesn't erase scars, Shubman. It wears them like badges."
He looked at her. "What if I fail?"
She leaned her forehead to his. "Then fail with honesty. But I don't think you will."
---
Instagram Story (Posted Late Night from @shubmangill)
📸: A quiet picture of his old Test whites hanging next to his new captain's blazer.
Caption: "Earned. Not inherited."
---
Comments Section - A Taste of Chaos:
@virat.kohli: A torch worth carrying. Proud of you, skip. 🔥
@rishabpant: So we getting discipline now or nah? Asking for the squad.
@ishan.kishan: Does this mean you finally buy breakfast?
@bcci: #CaptainGill begins. 🇮🇳
@rahuldravid: A leader with patience. Exactly what we need.
@rheamerchant: Sometimes, dreams wear whites and walk with humility. 🕊️✨
---
Shubman sat cross-legged, staring out at the skyline, blazer draped over one chair, hair still damp from a shower.
Rhea joined him, wrapped in one of his old hoodies.
He turned to her. "You think I'm ready?"
She smiled. "You've been ready since the day you took the blame for someone else's mistake and never told the media. That's leadership. Quiet. Steady. Yours."
He leaned into her, forehead pressing into her shoulder.
"I just want to do it right."
"You already are."
---
Postscript - A New Journal Entry (Rhea's Notes)
Date: The Day He Took the Torch
He didn't roar. He didn't pose. He stood there - honest, prepared, scared, and still so brave.
The world doesn't know yet. But I do.
He will be the kind of captain legends wish they had.
YOU ARE READING
almost, Always.
FanfictionA Shubman Gill fanfiction There are some people you never really get over. Not because you still love them-sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. But because what happened between you and them carved something so deep, even time walks around it car...
