Not In The Script...

Chapte- 23: Cracks in the Cold

The worst kind of silence wasn’t the one that happened in empty rooms.
It was the one that sat between two people who used to know each other.

Yashasvi didn’t know when exactly it became like this.
When the ache stopped burning and simply sat in his chest — cold, settled, permanent.

Maybe it was after that hallway.
Maybe it was after those words: “I just needed a distraction.”
Maybe it was after he realized Shubman wasn’t going to chase him this time.

Whatever it was, it hollowed him out.

He stopped showing up for team dinners.
Started training earlier than everyone else just to avoid walking in with him.
Began sitting on the far side of the dressing room, headphones always on, hoodie always up.

Outwardly?
He was calm. He was focused.

Inwardly?
His ribs felt like they’d caved in.

He played it well.

When Ishan cracked a joke, Yash smiled.

When Siraj teased him, Yash rolled his eyes.

When the coach asked if he was feeling off, Yash shrugged it away like it was nothing.

Only it wasn’t nothing.

It was everything.

It was the replay of every look across the dinner table, every shoulder brush between Shubman and Rhea, every unfinished sentence that had stayed stuck in his throat for months.

He replayed them at night — like cruel highlights — over and over until his pillowcase was wet and cold under his cheek.

That night, it hit him again.

The hotel room was suffocating. The walls too tight, the air too still. He couldn’t bear to sit still, so he paced.

His steps back and forth wore a path into the carpet.

“I just needed a distraction.”

His hands clenched. He wanted to hit something. Break something.
But all he could do was let the tears come — silent and ugly, sliding hot down his face while he pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes until stars sparked behind his lids.

He hated it.

Hated how weak he felt. Hated how much power Shubman still had over him.

Hated how somewhere, a part of him still wanted Shubman to call. To knock. To explain.

But he wouldn’t.

The next morning, Yash’s detachment was impossible to miss.

Shubman saw it, even if he pretended not to.

He saw how Yash walked past him in the breakfast hall as if they’d never shared anything.

He saw how Yash sat with the junior players now — how his laughs were louder with them, his attention fully elsewhere, anywhere but near him.

Shubman swallowed hard every time Yash glanced through him like he was air.

Rhea sat beside him during the bus ride to training, but her presence didn’t register anymore. She was just noise.

And yet, the distance wasn’t mutual.

Not really.

Because Shubman still watched.

Still counted the times Yash avoided him. Still flinched every time Yash smiled at someone else but left him out.

You’re the one who told him you needed a distraction. This is what you asked for.

But it wasn’t what he wanted.

Training was brutal that day. The summer heat was unrelenting, and the drills went on longer than usual.

Yash wasn’t himself. Missed catches. Misjudged throws.

Ishan noticed.

Siraj noticed.

The assistant coach raised his brow.

But no one said anything — except Ishan, who cornered Shubman during the water break.

“Okay,” he started, voice low, pulling Shubman a few steps away from the others. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Shubman didn’t respond.

“I’ve seen you two fight before, yeah? But this isn’t that. This is… I don’t even know what this is. It’s not banter. It’s not ego. It’s… broken.”

“Ishan—”

“Yash is falling apart, man. I can see it. You can see it. Hell, even the coach can see it. You think this is just about some stupid practice fight? No. This is deeper.”

Shubman stayed silent, fingers tightening around his water bottle.

“You know what?” Ishan said, stepping closer. “I don’t even need you to tell me what happened. I just need you to tell me whether you’re going to fix it.”

Shubman’s throat closed.

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, voice barely a whisper.

Ishan looked at him for a long moment. Like he was weighing whether to yell or walk away.

Then finally: “Fine. If you won’t talk to him, I will.”

Before Shubman could react, Ishan was already gone — jogging across the field toward Yash, determination in every step.

That night, Yash sat by the window again.

Same city lights. Same suffocating quiet.

But this time, the knock on his door startled him.

When he opened it, Ishan stood there, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“We’re talking,” Ishan said simply, walking in without waiting.

Yash blinked, caught off guard. “About what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re falling apart, Yash,” Ishan cut in. “And you think no one’s noticed? Well, I have.”

Yash’s mouth opened. Closed. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when I see you showing up to practice like you’re dragging your own shadow. It is when you don’t eat. When you don’t sleep. When you’re lying to everyone, including yourself.”

Silence.

Ishan stepped closer.

“Tell me what happened.”

Yash bit his lip. His chest squeezed so tight he thought he might choke.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll sound stupid.”

“Try me.”

Yash’s hands trembled as he gripped the chair.

“I was just a distraction,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.

Ishan frowned. “What?”

“I thought I mattered to him. Turns out I was just a distraction he didn’t need.”

And just like that, Ishan’s expression shifted from confusion to quiet heartbreak.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

Yash laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter now.”

But a part of him still hoped it did.
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[End of Chapter 23]

Hopefully you're enjoying it till now!
Need a suggestion, how many chapters should this story have???? I was thinking of ending this at around 40?
Please I need your opinion!!