Not In The Script...

Chapter- 22: More Than a Distraction

The morning sun cut harsh shadows across the pitch, but that wasn’t the reason Shubman had his brows furrowed.

He’d barely slept.

The events of last night played on a constant loop in his head — Yash’s expression, the way his jaw tensed when their eyes met, the way he stood up and left without saying a word.

The whisper: Don’t do this — still echoed in his bones.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. But that didn’t make the guilt any quieter.

And now, as if fate was determined to worsen the ache, Rhea arrived at training.

Bright smile, clipboard in hand, official Team India polo tucked neatly into joggers.

“Morning!” she chirped, walking toward the warm-up circle.

A few players whistled jokingly.

Siraj, nudging Ishan, grinned. “Shubman’s lucky, no? Getting physio and flirting in one shot.”

Yash, standing a little behind, didn’t laugh.

His eyes were already locked on the way Rhea greeted Shubman.

A touch to his arm.

A laugh at something he barely said.

The way she leaned in, too close to check something on his wrist.

Shubman stayed polite, a little stiff even — but Yash didn’t see that.

He only saw them.

Together.

Again.

They were paired for fielding drills.

Of course they were.

The assistant coach was calling names out in twos, and the second “Yashasvi” followed “Shubman,” the air went a little colder.

Shubman turned to Yash, offering a small nod.

Yash didn’t return it.

They took their positions across from each other for the diving catches drill.

The first ball was fast.

Shubman lunged. Caught it.

Tossed it back with focus.

Yash caught it without looking at him.

“Nice hands,” Yash muttered under his breath. “Guess dinner dates work wonders for reflexes.”

Shubman stiffened.

Didn’t reply.

Another ball. Another clean catch. Another throw.

“Bet she helped you stretch too, yeah?” Yash whispered, lips barely moving, eyes locked ahead.

Shubman gritted his jaw. “Yash—”

“What?” he said louder. “I’m just complimenting the man’s flexibility.”

Ishan looked between them, brow furrowed. “Everything good?”

“Perfect,” Yash said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

The taunts continued.
Each one sharper than the last.

During cardio:
“Don’t trip now, Gill. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your special someone.”

During batting nets:
“Maybe ask her to teach you footwork too, not just flirting.”

Shubman bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

Rhea, for her part, was oblivious. She thought it was locker room banter, nothing more.

But Shubman could feel it — the edge in Yash’s voice, the bitterness laced beneath casual words.

He didn’t want to fight.

Not here.

Not in front of everyone.

But he could feel himself cracking.

Training ended just after 4 p.m.

Most of the team filtered out — toward ice baths, media rooms, or straight to their rooms.

Shubman stayed behind in the locker hallway, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

That’s when he heard footsteps.

Yash.

Walking past him.

Cold. Silent. Straight to the exit.

“Yash,” Shubman called softly.

No answer.

“Yash, stop.”

He did.

Back turned.

Silent.

Shubman stepped closer. His voice low, almost hesitant.

“She’s just a friend.”

No response.

“That night… it wasn’t a date. Not really. I just— I needed a distraction.”

Finally, Yash turned.

His eyes were unreadable. Voice calm.

But deadly.

“A distraction.”

Shubman swallowed. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

Yash’s lips twitched into a bitter smile.

“So I was the distraction you never needed?”

Shubman’s breath hitched.

“I—no. That’s not—”

Yash shook his head, stepping back.

“Got it.”

“Yash, wait—”

“You didn’t need me then. Don’t try to explain now.”

He walked away.

And this time, Shubman didn’t stop him.

Because how do you fix something when every word you say breaks it further?
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[End of Chapter 22]