Beyond The Spotlight

Prologue

The flashbulbs at the Wankhede Stadium were blinding, painting the night in sharp, electric bursts of white. Thousands of voices chanted his name from the stands, a deafening roar that vibrated straight through the concrete floor of the players' tunnel.

Tilak adjusted the collar of his jersey, his expression a mask of absolute, unflappable calm. To the commentators, and the millions scrolling through social media, he was the Starboy—the unflinching young prodigy of Indian cricket who carried pressure like it weighed nothing at all.

They saw the cover drives. They saw the golden stats. They saw the polite, media-trained smiles in the post-match press conferences.
What they didn't see was the way his gaze flickered past the cameras, searching the shadows of the tunnel for one specific face.

A few feet away, standing beside the media kit boxes with a digital clipboard tucked under her arm, stood the person who shattered his entire composure. Meera Sharma. The franchise's media manager, and more terrifyingly, Rohit Sharma's younger sister.

As the captain's sister, she commanded the room without a single word. She didn't care about the hype, the press releases, or the golden-boy pedestal everyone placed him on. When she looked at him, there was only that sharp, knowing look that made his heart hammer harder than any fast bowler charging down the pitch.

Tilak swallowed the dry lump in his throat, stepping past the wall of photographers. He knew the risks. He knew Rohit was just a few feet away—the legendary captain who had practically taken Tilak in as an adopted son, treating him like family. One wrong look, one misplaced word, and their entire world would collapse.

He was trained to play the long game. But looking at her, he knew he was about to break every rule in the book.