Not In The Script...

Chapter- 21: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

He looked away.

Tried to.

But Ishan had already noticed. “Yo, I think Gill’s on a date.”

Yash gritted his jaw.

“Good for him,” he muttered.

“Damn, man. Girl’s pretty. You think it’s serious?”

Siraj leaned in. “I heard his mom’s been looking for rishtas. Maybe it’s one of those.”

Sanju laughed. “Finally. Man’s too boring to stay single forever.”

Yash felt his stomach twist.

He tried to eat. Couldn’t. Every bite tasted like paper.

Shubman noticed them five minutes later.

Saw Yash seated three tables away.

Saw the way he wasn’t eating. Wasn’t laughing.

Saw the way he pretended not to look at him.

And yet… Shubman could feel those eyes even in the quiet.

He stiffened.

“This was a bad idea,” he murmured.

Rhea glanced up. “What?”

He hesitated. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

He knew Yash.

He knew that posture — the way his shoulders were tense, back straight, jaw set. He knew Yash was probably overthinking every second of what he was seeing.

And Shubman couldn’t blame him.

He had no way to explain that this wasn’t real.

That this wasn’t anything.

“So,” Rhea said, trying to steer them back into conversation, “how are you really doing?”

Shubman blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you're good at smiling. But your eyes — they look like someone who’s been running on empty for a while.”

He didn’t speak.

Not for a long moment.

Then, finally:

“I don’t know anymore. Some days are okay. Most days feel like I’m just… showing up.”

Rhea didn’t pity him.

She just nodded. “Same here.”

He looked at her then, really looked — and saw it. The exhaustion, the pressure behind her composed exterior.

And just like that, the tension eased.

“I’m just here because my mom begged me,” he admitted softly.

Rhea laughed gently. “My dad begged me too. Told me if I didn't say yes, he’d find someone from the ortho department.”

They both chuckled, and for a moment, it was light.

Not romantic.

Not hopeful.

Just light.

She raised her glass. “To surviving one awkward dinner.”

He smiled. “Cheers.”

Their glasses clinked.

Yash heard it.

He didn’t mean to — but he did.

That stupid, soft clink of glass.

He didn’t know why it bothered him.

It wasn’t like they kissed.

It wasn’t like Shubman even touched her.

But he laughed.

He looked happy.

And it hurt like hell.

Because he had tried.

He had tried to kill the feelings.

Buried them under games, practice, silence, months of cold shoulder.

But seeing Shubman look at someone else the way he used to look at him?

It undid him in three seconds flat.

“I’m leaving,” he said quietly, pushing back his chair.

“But we haven’t—”

“I’m not hungry,” he said, louder now.

And he left.

Didn’t wait for the bill.

Didn’t look back.

Shubman saw it all.

Saw the back of him disappearing into the exit.

Saw the pain he himself had just caused — unintentionally, unwillingly — and felt his throat dry out.

He wanted to get up.

Wanted to run.

To explain.

To say: This isn’t real. I’m still not over you.

But he couldn’t move.

Could only whisper into the quiet:

“It’s not what you think.”

And across from him, Rhea was silent — kind enough not to ask who that sentence was really meant for.
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[End of Chapter 21