The stadium was full.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

Eighty thousand people.

Millions watching live.

And Arjun Kapoor was losing his calm.

India needed 12 runs off the last over.

Arjun stood at the non-striker’s end.

Helmet on.

Jaw tight.

Not because of the bowler.

Because Ruhe Sharma was sitting in the VIP stand.

Front row.

Clipboard replaced by folded hands.

Eyes locked on him.

And the media had noticed.

“Who is that woman again?”

“Captain’s lucky charm?”

“Accountant or heartbreak?”

The commentary box buzzed.

Arjun blocked out everything.

Ball after ball.

Dot.

Single.

Dot.

Pressure climbed.

Crowd roared.

Bowler smirked.

Last ball.

Two runs needed.

Arjun on strike.

He glanced once toward the stands.

Ruhe wasn’t praying.

She was watching.

Confident.

As if she trusted him more than the numbers.

Ball released.

Arjun stepped out.

Shot timed perfectly—

pierced the gap.

The crowd exploded.

India won.

Noise shattered the night.

Teammates ran in.

Captain lifted.

Fireworks lit the sky.

But Arjun’s eyes searched only one face.

Ruhe stood.

Heart racing.

Before logic could intervene—

Arjun did something no PR team could ever justify.

He removed his helmet.

Walked straight to the boundary.

Cameras followed.

Commentators panicked.

“What is he doing?”

“Captain breaking protocol?”

He climbed the steps.

Security froze.

Ruhe didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

He stopped in front of her.

Crowd hushed—confused.

Arjun said softly,

“You once asked if I wanted permission.”

Her lips trembled.

“And?”

“I don’t,” he said.

“I want honesty.”

Then—

He kissed her.

Not hurried.

Not hidden.

Right there.

Under stadium lights.

In front of the world.

For two seconds—

The world stopped.

Then it exploded.

Flashbulbs.

Gasps.

Chaos.

Ruhe pulled back first.

Eyes wide.

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

Arjun smiled.

“Captaincy does that.”

She laughed—half shocked, half undone.

“You just ruined my professional reputation.”

He leaned closer, murmuring,

“I’ll make you famous. Fair trade.”

Media storm followed instantly.

Reporters swarmed.

“Captain Kapoor! Is she your girlfriend?”

“Is she involved in the audit?”

“Ms. Sharma, are you influencing team decisions?”

Ruhe turned before Arjun could speak.

Picked up a mic.

Smiled sweetly.

“Gentlemen,” she said calmly,

“I audit numbers, not men.”

Cameras froze.

She continued,

“And if a kiss threatens the nation’s cricket—

then the problem isn’t me.”

Mic down.

Walk away.

Arjun watched her like a man who’d just lost—and won—everything.

In the dressing room—

Pandya whistled.

“Bro… that wasn’t a cover drive.”

Pant grinned.

“That was straight out of a movie.”

Virat shook his head.

“You kissed in a stadium.”

Arjun shrugged.

“Timing was perfect.”

Rohit laughed.

“Yeah. Emotionally reckless, technically flawless.”

Later.

Empty stands.

Echoes of chaos still hanging in the air.

Ruhe stood alone near the boundary.

Arjun joined her.

“No regrets?” he asked quietly.

She looked at the pitch.

“At least fifty,” she said.

“Worth every one.”

He smiled.

She turned to him.

“But don’t think this changes anything,” she warned.

He nodded.

“I know,” he said softly.

“It changes everything.”

(When love becomes public property,

privacy is the first casualty.)

................................................................. A/n : guys I enjoyed writing this chapter tell me in the comment section how is the chapter