Off Script

13

This is my least popular story, I am so dissapointed in you Offscript (Not me acting like a brown parent) 
Baaki stories ko dekho kisi ke 44k views kisi ke 22k and tum? 4k- Chi. Kaash tum paida hi na hote

Ok nvm- Today's chapter will be sad coz the author is in a very bad mood. (Author andar hi andar marna chahti hai)

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The door opened, and as soon as Hardik and Natasa stepped inside, the lights flickered on.

"Happy anniversary!" Ishan shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. A cake sat on the table, candles glowing softly.

Hardik smiled, genuinely surprised. "Ishan? How are you, beta? Damn, it's been three days since I last saw you."

Ishan shifted uncomfortably but forced a smile. "Um, yeah... happy anniversary, Mumma, Dada."

Natasa's eyes narrowed. "Did he even remember?" she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Ishan to hear.

"Yes, actually," Ishan replied quickly, glancing at Hardik. "We planned the surprise together, right Dada?" He gave him a small wink.

Hardik caught on instantly. "Yes, unlike you, I make efforts."

Natasa turned sharply. "You make efforts? I'm running this damn house! You're not even here half the time. I'm the one growing him up, making him eat—"

"And then they started fighting, voices rising over each other, arguing about who was 'growing up' Ishan.

Ishan's chest tightened, the warmth of the celebration turning into something suffocating.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed suddenly. "Shut up, both of you!"

They both froze, staring at him like he had just committed a crime.

"None of you are doing anything," he spat, his voice shaking but loud. "Both of you are absent from my life. Do you guys have any idea what I'm up to? What I'm doing? How my life is going on? No! Because you're too busy fighting among yourselves."

Natasa's face twisted. "Why are you shouting at your parents? We literally earn for you, not to get treated like a slave. All your father's genes—bloody ungrateful—"

"Father?" Hardik barked back. "Have you seen his attitude? It's all given by you."

"You raised a terrible child, Hardik!"

"Same to you!"

Their words flew like daggers over Ishan's head, but every one of them hit him too. His hands clenched at his sides, his throat tight, and for a moment he felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Ishan slammed the door behind him, stepping into the night without a plan—just the desperate need to get away. The streets blurred past him as he walked, head down, fists into his pockets.

He took out his phone and called someone with trembled hands. 

"Hello?" Ishan's voice cracked.

"What happened, Ishan?" Krunal asked, concern instantly lacing his tone.

"They—" Ishan took a shaky breath. "They were fighting again. About me. Like I'm some... some one they never wanted."

"Come to us, Ishan," Krunal said gently.

"No... they'll come there," Ishan murmured. "I just... I need a few days of peace."

There was silence for a second before Krunal's voice softened further. "Then remember Virat uncle? I'll talk to him. Go to his house."