Not In The Script...

Chapter 33: Strings and Scars

“That's… not possible,” he said, barely audible.

“Shubh…” His mother’s voice was suddenly soft, cautious. “Is it true? Did something happen between you two?”

Shubman’s throat closed.

He looked at Rhea, really looked, and her eyes were calm. Too calm.

Calculated.

No hint of panic. No guilt. No shame.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I need to… I need to go,” he muttered, backing away.

He left before anyone could stop him.

The day only got worse.

The moment he returned to the media wing, his PR manager was waiting.

“Gill, don’t even think of denying anything publicly. You’ve already been trending for 8 hours straight.”

“I didn’t agree to any of this.”

“I know,” the man sighed. “But we have brand deals lined up. Articles written. Exclusive interviews. If you back out now—”

“Then let it fall apart,” Shubman said coldly. “I don’t care.”

“But we do,” the manager snapped. “Your sponsors. The board. Your image. You’re a captain, Gill. A scandal like this could—”

“I didn’t get her pregnant.”

“I’m not asking you to confess to it,” the man said. “Just… don’t deny it. Not yet. Wait a few weeks. Let the narrative settle. We’ll control it better if you don’t add fuel to the fire.”

Shubman ran his hands through his hair, pacing.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t breathe.

Yash’s face wouldn’t leave his mind.

How cold he’d gone. How shattered. How alone he looked when he walked out of the canteen.

He didn’t deserve this.

Not the silence.
Not the lie.
Not the betrayal.

And now Shubman couldn’t even reach for him without making it worse.

Wait a few weeks.

As if this pain had an expiry date.

That night, he stayed late at the gym—not training, just sitting on the bench press, staring at nothing. The lights were dim. The place was empty.

He scrolled to Yash’s contact three times.

Typed:
“Can we talk?”
Backspaced.

Typed:
“I didn’t know.”
Deleted.

Finally, he settled on just:
“Please.”
Sent.

The reply never came.

Three days passed.

Yash hadn’t said a word.
Hadn’t met his gaze.
Hadn’t looked in his direction.

But he laughed with Ishan.
He trained well.
He looked like he was moving on.

Only Shubman could see the tiredness in his eyes.
The way he shut down the moment someone mentioned Shubman’s name.
The way he flinched when Rhea showed up to a practice session and hugged Shubman in front of everyone.

He saw it all.

And it was killing him.

But then came the final straw.

Late evening, while heading to the press hallway, Shubman paused behind a glass divider near the media green room.

Rhea stood inside with two of her friends from the city, laughing quietly.

*************************************************
“She bought it,” one of the girls said, smirking.

“And his team too,” Rhea whispered back. “Like clockwork. All I had to do was drop the word ‘pregnant.”

Laughter. Casual. Cruel.

“What if he finds out?”

“He won’t. And even if he does, by then it’ll be too public. He can’t backtrack without wrecking his own reputation. He’ll have to go through with it. And imagine the headlines. My engagement to India’s golden boy? My ticket to everything.”

*************************************************

Shubman didn’t hear the rest.

He walked away before his vision could blur with fury.

The nausea, the betrayal, the rage churned inside him like wildfire.

He didn't sleep that night.

Not even when his body begged him to.

His PR team still told him to wait.

“Play along,” they said.
“Smile for the cameras.”
“Don’t react.”

But all he could think about was the picture on Yash’s phone.
The notification that broke him.
The silence that followed.
The lie he was being forced to wear like a mask.

And the boy he loved who now hated him for a crime he hadn’t even committed.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[End of Chapter 33]