Aditi burst into Shubman's room like a whirlwind, her hair in disarray and her bag half-zipped. "Shubman, I need a favor," she announced dramatically, ignoring his protest as he tried to tie his shoelaces.

"What now?" Shubman asked, already dreading her next words. He was supposed to leave for practice in ten minutes, and she looked like the human embodiment of chaos.

"I'm late for college. Drop me off. Now." She punctuated the last word with a snap of her fingers.

"Not happening," he said, standing up. "I have practice."

"Oh, come on!" Aditi groaned, following him out of the room. "It's on the way."

"It's literally not on the way," Shubman shot back, grabbing his keys. "Take a cab."

"I don't have time for a cab! Do you want me to fail my attendance?" She stood in front of the door, arms crossed. "You wouldn't want your wife to be a college dropout, would you?"

He sighed, his resolve weakening. "Fine. But if I'm late, you owe me."

"Deal!" Aditi grinned, grabbing his cricket bag and hauling it to the car like it was her victory trophy.

The car ride started off silently enough, until Aditi spotted the AUX cord. "Shotgun gets the aux," she declared, snatching it before Shubman could react.

"Shotgun doesn't mean DJ!" he protested, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other reached for the cord.

"I called it first," Aditi said smugly, already scrolling through her playlist. "We're listening to—"

"No Arijit Singh," Shubman interrupted, as if reading her mind. "I'm not listening to another tragic love ballad at 7:30 in the morning."

"You'd rather listen to your boring motivational podcasts?" she shot back, pulling the cord out of his grasp.

"Those are not boring!" he exclaimed, trying to grab the phone from her. The car swerved slightly as he did, and Aditi screamed.

"Eyes on the road!" she yelled.

"Then stop hijacking my car!" he retorted, finally managing to grab the phone.

After another five minutes of tug-of-war and accusations of poor taste, they settled on a 90s Bollywood song that neither of them really liked.

"See?" Shubman smirked. "Compromise. That's what marriage is about."

"More like dictatorship," Aditi muttered under her breath.

By the time they reached her college gate, Aditi was fuming. "Great. Now that we've wasted the entire ride fighting over the AUX, I didn't even get to enjoy a single decent song!"

"You're welcome for the ride," Shubman said sarcastically. "And by the way, you're not late anymore. So technically, I saved your attendance."

"That doesn't make up for your terrible taste in music!" she snapped, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Well, you—"

"Wait," Aditi said, cutting him off. Her gaze fixed on someone near the gate. Her tone softened. "Aarav."

"Aarav?" Shubman repeated, frowning. He followed her gaze to a tall guy standing near the entrance, casually leaning against a bike.

Without another word, Aditi flung the car door open and dashed towards him. Shubman blinked in confusion, then did a double-take when the guy enveloped her in a hug.

"What the—" he muttered, quickly getting out of the car and striding towards them.

"Oh, I didn't know you had another brother besides Atharva," Shubman said loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aarav raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. Aditi rolled her eyes. "Shubman, this is Aarav. My—"

"Jealous Jija ji?" a voice teased from behind. Shubman spun around to see Agastya and Harshita, Aditi's best friends, grinning like Cheshire cats.

"I'm not jealous," he said flatly.

"Sure, you're not," Agastya said, winking. "But just so you know, Aarav's been a close friend since grade school. A very close friend."

"Yeah," Harshita chimed in, her voice annoyingly cheerful. "And he's been in love with Aditi since grade 12."

Shubman choked on absolutely nothing. His face turned red as he sputtered, "W-what?!"

Harshita burst out laughing. "Relax, Jiju. I'll handle it." She walked over to Aditi, grabbed her by the arm, and whispered something that made Aditi glare at her before reluctantly following her towards the washroom.

Agastya placed a dramatic hand on his chest. "Don't worry, Jiju. I'll make sure Aditi doesn't get close to anyone who isn't you. Scout's honor."

Shubman rolled his eyes. "You're not even a scout."

"Details," Agastya replied with a smirk. "But seriously, why are you so worked up? She's married to you, remember?"

"I'm not worked up," Shubman snapped.

Agastya raised an eyebrow. "Sure, and I'm the captain of the Indian cricket team."

Shubman scoffed and turned away, but his gaze involuntarily drifted back to Aarav, who was now leaning casually against the wall, waiting for Aditi.

"Not jealous, my foot," Agastya muttered, shaking his head.

Shubman stood near the car, arms crossed, trying to look as indifferent as possible, but his mind was anything but calm. His eyes kept flickering to Aarav, who was still waiting near the college gate, looking far too comfortable for Shubman's liking.

Who even is this Aarav guy? he thought.

He leaned against the car, trying to suppress the growing unease gnawing at him. Aditi had hugged this guy like she'd known him forever. And she'd whispered his name. Whispered! Not said, not called out—whispered.

What kind of guy gets a whisper? he wondered, his jaw tightening. I don't even get a whisper. I get yelled at for not putting the milk back in the fridge.

Shubman replayed Harshita's words in his head: "He's been in love with Aditi since grade 12." The thought made him straighten up abruptly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Grade 12? That's ages ago! Isn't there a statute of limitations on this kind of thing? Shouldn't he have moved on by now?

Agastya, who was still lounging nearby, noticed Shubman's restless stance and smirked. "Careful, Jiju. You're about to grind your teeth into dust."

"I'm not grinding anything. And stop calling me that. I have a name." Shubman snapped, scowling.

Agastya snickered. "Right. Not jealous, just... keeping an eye out, huh?"

Shubman ignored him, but his mind was far from quiet. He couldn't help but think back to the small things Aditi had mentioned over time about her college friends. Why hadn't Aarav's name come up?

I mean, come on, it's not like I'm the jealous type, he tried to convince himself. I'm a professional athlete. I deal with pressure for a living. This is nothing.

But his thoughts betrayed him. He replayed the hug again in his head, analyzing every second of it. Was it too long? Did he squeeze her shoulder? Is there an international standard for what counts as a "friendly" hug versus a "I've-been-waiting-years-for-this-moment" hug?

His gaze shifted to Aarav again, and he found himself cataloging everything he didn't like about the guy: his overly neat hair, his annoyingly cool jacket, and—was that a smirk?

Before he could spiral further, Aditi returned with Harshita in tow, laughing about something. Her laugh was light and genuine, the kind of laugh that usually made Shubman's chest warm. But today, it just irritated him because it was clearly leftover from whatever conversation she'd been having with Aarav earlier.

"Gonna go to attend class or not?" he asked, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended.

Aditi raised an eyebrow. "Why crawled up your ass and died? Why so grumpy huh?"

"I'm not grumpy," Shubman said quickly. Too quickly.

"Sure, you're not," Harshita teased, patting his arm. "Don't worry, Jiju. We've all got your back."

Shubman shot her a glare but didn't respond. As he climbed into the car, he couldn't help but steal one last glance at Aarav. The guy was still standing there, watching him leave with an infuriatingly calm expression.

Shubman got into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. He glanced at himself in the mirror. "You okay?"

"Fine," he muttered, replying to himself, starting the car. But as he pulled away, his thoughts betrayed him again.

She's my wife. I trust her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was standing leaning on Harshita, scrolling through her phone, completely unbothered.

But Aarav better not be stupid enough to think he can change that.

As he turned a corner, Shubman caught Agastya's reflection in the rearview mirror, saluting him dramatically. He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Not jealous." But the nagging voice in his head whispered back:

Who are you kidding, Shubman? You're so jealous, it's embarrassing.