If you asked Aanya Sharma what her life revolved around, she’d grin and say,

“College, coffee… and cricket.”

At twenty-one, her days were packed with literature lectures, late-night assignments, and an unhealthy obsession with the Indian cricket team—especially him.

Aarav Singh.

India’s star batsman. The man who made her heart race faster than the Wi-Fi buffering during live matches.

She wasn’t a quiet fan, oh no. Aanya was a certified, loud, jersey-wearing fangirl. Her room had three Aarav posters, her phone gallery was full of his match highlights, and her notebooks were doodled with little “#18” hearts in the margins. Her best friend, Priya, often said, “You don’t need a boyfriend, you already have Aarav Singh.”

Aanya would laugh and reply, “At least he never disappoints me.”

That morning, she sat on her bed in her shared college dorm—surrounded by books, highlighters, and chaos. Her long wavy black hair was tied in a messy ponytail, her hazel eyes scanning the same sentence in her notes for the fifth time.

But her brain?

It was on the cricket field.

She sighed dramatically, looking at Aarav’s poster pinned above her study desk.

“If I could just meet you once, bas ek baar… I swear I’d frame that moment forever.”

“Then die happy tomorrow,” came a teasing voice from the doorway.

Aanya jumped. “Priyaaa! Don’t do that!”

Priya—her best friend, drama queen, and constant source of chaos—walked in with her trademark grin. “Guess what, madam fangirl. The universe just heard your wish.”

Aanya frowned suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

Priya smirked and pulled out a shiny envelope from behind her back. “Tadaaa! VIP passes. India vs Australia, Wankhede Stadium. Tomorrow. You, me, front-row seats!”

For a second, Aanya froze. Then she screamed so loudly that the warden downstairs probably clutched her heart.

“WHATTT?! Priya, no way! You’re joking!”

“I never joke about cricket,” Priya said proudly. “My uncle had a few passes from work. I begged, blackmailed, emotionally manipulated him—you know, standard procedure. And now, these are ours.”

Aanya snatched the envelope like it was made of gold. “You’re serious?! VIP?! I’ll actually see Aarav Singh in person?!”

“Yup,” Priya said, crossing her arms. “So you better wear your lucky jersey and not faint.”

Aanya pressed the tickets to her chest, eyes shining. “I’m gonna cry. Like actual tears. Priya, you’re an angel.”

“Yeah, yeah. Buy me pizza later,” Priya said with a wink.

Aanya twirled around the room, too happy to sit still. “Do you even realize what this means? I’ll be in the same stadium as Aarav! I’ll breathe the same air as him!”

Priya burst out laughing. “And probably scream the same way too.”

“Hey!” Aanya pointed at her. “This time, I’ll be calm. Classy. Mature.”

“Sure,” Priya said with a straight face. “And I’m marrying Virat Kohli next week.”

Both girls dissolved into giggles, clutching their stomachs.

---

The rest of the day, Aanya was useless in class.

Her professors talked about Shakespeare and feminism, but all she could think about was the floodlights, the crowd, and the sound of the ball cracking off Aarav’s bat.

At lunch, Priya whispered, “You’re smiling like a psycho. Stop.”

“I’m just… excited,” Aanya admitted, grinning. “Tomorrow’s going to be the best day of my life.”

Priya sighed dramatically. “God save the Indian team. If they lose, you’ll probably start fasting.”

“Of course,” Aanya said seriously. “That’s called loyalty.”

Priya laughed so hard she almost dropped her chai.

---

That evening, Aanya went home for dinner. The smell of her mom’s paneer curry filled the apartment, and her dad was, as always, reading the newspaper on the sofa.

“Maa, guess what!” Aanya said, bouncing like a child. “Priya got us VIP passes for the match tomorrow! India vs Australia! At Wankhede!”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “VIP? Are you sure they’re real?”

“Maa! Of course they’re real,” she said, holding them up proudly. “I’m finally going to see Aarav Singh live!”

Her father looked up from his paper. “He’s a good player. But don’t skip your studies for this nonsense.”

“Papa, it’s just one match,” Aanya said with a pout. “I deserve this happiness after those midterms.”

Her mom smiled softly. “Fine, beta. Go enjoy. But be careful, okay? Don’t get lost in the crowd.”

“I’ll be fine, Maa,” Aanya said, hugging her.

After dinner, she sat by her window, phone in hand, scrolling through old clips of Aarav’s matches. She’d seen them all before, but somehow, they felt new tonight.

There he was—broad shoulders, calm face, that confident smile when he raised his bat. Every six he hit made her heart skip.

“He’s something else,” she whispered to herself.

The city lights blinked outside her window, and the night hummed quietly around her. Aanya leaned back, eyes dreamy, and whispered toward the poster on her wall—

“Tomorrow, Aarav Singh… I’ll be there. Front row. So you better not get out early.”

Then she laughed at herself, buried her face in a pillow, and sighed.

Her mind was full of what-ifs and maybes.

What if he looked her way once?

What if he smiled?

What if the universe had something more planned?

As sleep finally crept in, Aanya’s last thought

was simple but full of hope—

Tomorrow could be the day everything changes.

---

✨ End of Chapter 1 ✨