Not In The Script...

Chapter- 30: The Things We Almost Said

Sometimes, in the middle of all the anger, all the sharp words and heavy silences, something soft finds its way through.

And that’s exactly what happened to Yashasvi.

The fight with Ishan…
The way Shubman almost lost control…
The way Yash himself had stepped between them, choosing to protect Ishan over Shubman, even though his heart was breaking doing it.

At the time, it felt like the only thing he could do.

But now, sitting alone in his room, his chest felt tight for a different reason.

Because in choosing to de-escalate the fight, he’d also pushed Shubman away again.

Yash replayed it over and over—the way Shubman’s eyes had fallen, the way he’d quietly accepted the fact that Yash hadn’t chosen him.

And that hurt more than he could admit.

For a long time, Ishan had been his shield.
His safe place.
His friend who pulled him out of his loneliness when Shubman walked away.

But maybe, just maybe…
Ishan’s protection wasn’t what Yash needed anymore.

Maybe Ishan’s overprotectiveness was now the very thing standing in his way.

Yash ran a hand through his hair, groaning into his palm. He had to fix this.
He couldn’t let another distance settle between them.

The next day, he found Ishan before training.

The conversation wasn’t easy, but it was honest.

“I know you’ve always had my back,” Yash started, his voice low, steady. “And I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Ishan’s brows pulled together, sensing the shift in Yash’s tone.

“But I need you to trust me when I say that Shubman isn’t my enemy. Not anymore.”

“Yash—”

“I know you’re only looking out for me. I know you hate him for what he did. But… you don’t get to fight my battles anymore.”

Ishan’s jaw tightened. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again.”

“I know,” Yash said softly. “But I need to be the one to take that risk now. Not you.”

A beat passed. Ishan finally sighed, pressing a palm to Yash’s shoulder. “You’re really sure about him?”

Yash didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah. I am.”

Ishan offered a small, reluctant smile. “Okay. I’ll back off.”

It was a quiet understanding. A weight lifted.

And Yash knew—this wasn’t the end of his friendship with Ishan. But it was time for him to choose his own heart.

It was time to find Shubman.

He found him that evening, sitting alone on the empty bleachers after training.

Shubman was staring at the field like it had betrayed him, his fingers tangled in the loose threads of his gloves, unraveling them without noticing.

Yash approached slowly, quietly, unsure if Shubman would even want to see him.

But Shubman didn’t flinch when he sat beside him. He didn’t move away.

They sat in silence for a long time, the fading sunset stretching across the grass.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Yash murmured eventually, voice soft, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have taken his side like that.”

Shubman’s lips twitched in a sad smile. “You were right to. I was out of control.”

“You were scared. I get it now.”

“I was jealous.”

Yash huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah. I figured.”

“I shouldn’t have—” Shubman’s voice cracked, his throat tightening. “I didn’t want to scare you. Or him.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

Shubman finally turned to him, eyes glassy, raw.

“You didn’t,” Yash whispered, the words thick with something unsaid. “What scared me was the thought of losing you again.”

Shubman’s breath hitched.

“And I was wrong,” Yash continued, his voice barely holding steady. “I made you think you weren’t enough. That I’d pick someone else over you. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

The weight in Shubman’s chest cracked open.

“I wanted to be mad at you,” Yash said, his voice trembling, “but all I could think about was whether you were okay. Whether you were still mine.”

“I never stopped being yours,” Shubman whispered, his voice rough. “Not even when I tried to.”

The silence between them wasn’t heavy this time.
It was warm. Soft. Fragile.

Like they were building something new out of all the pieces they’d broken.

Yash’s hand found Shubman’s, threading their fingers together.

They sat there, breathing each other in, hearts thudding painfully close.

And when Yash leaned in—tentative, hesitant, but undeniable—Shubman almost closed the distance.

Almost.

But he stopped, his forehead resting against Yash’s, his breath shaky.

“Not yet,” Shubman whispered. “Not like this. Not when I haven’t finished fixing it.”

Yash’s throat bobbed. His voice was a broken thing when he whispered back, “I don’t care.”

But Shubman did.

Because as much as he wanted Yash—right here, right now—he knew they deserved more than almost.

They deserved a beginning that wasn’t wrapped in guilt.

Yash tightened his grip on Shubman’s hand like he was afraid to let go.

“Just—stay,” he whispered.

Shubman’s eyes slipped shut, leaning into the warmth of Yash’s touch.

“I will.”

And for now, that was enough.

Almost.
But almost was finally starting to feel like something real.