post script.

two

02
I COULD ONLY WHISPER

April

Mumbai,

"OH, THAT'S A GORGEOUS SHOT!" The commentator exclaimed as Abhishek pulled the ball for a six. "After being out of form for the last few months, Abhishek Sharma is back! A hundred for him as SRH is at 169 in 13.3 overs!"

On the field, as the ball reached the stands, the crowd erupted in cheers, the limited orange colour flags shining at Wankhede. Ishan Kishan, the batsman on the non-striker's end was grinning as he ran up to Abhishek. As he was engulfed in a hug by his teammate and close friend, the realisation dawned upon Abhishek. He'd just scored a century.

And in those fleeting moments, as the world around him applauded for him, Abhishek felt like an eclipsed sun. Still shining but swallowed completely by the dark. Lonely.

"Bhai, celebrate toh kar," (Bro, celebrate) Ishan whispered as Abhishek stood rooted at his place, no flicker of emotions on his face whatsoever. He shook his head and Ishan felt a pang of disappointment. He patted Abhishek's back, whispering a congratulations before walking off to the non-striker's end again.

"Why is there no celebration from Sharma yet?" the commentator voiced out what everyone was thinking.

"That's very strange," the other commentator chimed in.

Hardik Pandya, the bowler was also waiting for Abhishek to raise his bat or tell everyone they're losers but Abhishek simply took position again. Unable to hide his curiosity, the senior walked slightly ahead but Abhishek waved his hand, shaking his head. Hardik raised his eyebrow, approaching his junior.

In a house a few kilometers away, a woman sat on the edge of the sofa, watching the interaction between Hardik and the batsman. She didn't even realise it, but her fingers had clenched around the hem of her vermillion kurti, heart thudding in her chest.

A gentle breeze made its way in Aastha's house as she waited for him to...smile. Be proud of his ton. But, it didn't happen. Hardik had walked back and the game continued. Aastha felt tears cloud her vision, exhaling sharply. And then, she broke into sobs. She didn't want to cry, no she did not, but seeing him not raise his bat, scratch that- not even smile, it shattered her heart.

She'd fallen for his smile, not his stoic nonchalance. Celebrate the century, right? It's happened after a few long months of self-doubt, poor performance and harsh criticism. 

It wasn't about the celebration, it was about what it symbolised. He used to text her minutes before the game begun, used to send flying kisses her way during the game. And now...Abhishek was breaking, just like her and they didn't have it themselves to pick up the pieces.

As her tears came to a halt, her pain didn't subside.

Instead, the ache in her heart increased as the camera panned to the stands, showing Sara Tendulkar and Shubman Gill as Sara's brother- Arjun came to bowl. Sara, Shubman, Ishan, Hardik...just a few months ago, all of them were her people. And now— they all felt so far.

The glamorous cricket world which she'd seen up close, felt miles away again, as she sat cooped up in her house, just another viewer, again. The match came to an end but Aastha stayed rooted on the sofa, clutching onto the hem of her kurti.

She missed her Abhishek.

Almost half an hour passed while Aastha just stayed on the couch in the living room, blankly browsing on social media— eyes twinkling every time she saw a post praise her husband.