WICKETS AND WIDGETS

Back To Town

Treat this like the final chapter before a time-skip. 

As I tried to process Kabir's abrupt words and disconnection, a wave of disbelief washed over me, freezing time in its tracks. It was like a cruel joke, one that I couldn't comprehend at that moment.

Mom's comforting touch on my shoulders snapped me back to reality. "Aryan," she said softly, her voice laced with concern and love.

I clung to her, seeking solace in her embrace. "This can't be real, can it, Mom?" My words trembled with a mix of hope and despair.

She held me tighter, her own emotions mirroring mine. "I hope it's just a misunderstanding, dear. If not, he'll have to face my wrath."

Tears welled up in my eyes as the weight of Kabir's sudden decision sank in. "Why would he do this? Everything felt so right," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion.

"I don't have the answers, dear," She replied, her voice tinged with sorrow and uncertainty.

"I-I," I struggled to articulate my thoughts, feeling a rush of desperation. "I need to talk to him, to understand why he would do this." My breath hitched as I spoke, the weight of confusion and hurt heavy in my words. "How could he just end everything like this? Especially after we promised each other that we'd never let go again."

Her curiosity peaked at my mention of "again."

"We had a rough patch at the hospital before, and it nearly tore us apart," I explained, my eyes reflecting a mix of pain and disbelief.

"It'll be alright, son," She reassured me, though her own voice carried a note of sadness. "He truly cares about you. He'll come back; I believe that."

"But, Mom, everything seemed fine just this morning," I murmured, my gaze dropping to my phone, which now held the weight of the day's heartbreaking message. "Why this sudden change? What did I do to deserve this?"

"I know, darling. You're not one to cause harm," She said lovingly, yet her words were tinged with sorrow. "Seeing you in this pain breaks my heart. You're usually so resilient, and I fear how deeply this might affect you."

"Why does this keep happening to me, Mom?" I asked, my eyes clouded with tears. "The people I care about always seem to slip away from me. Dad, Natasha, and now, Kabir."

Mom deliberately skirted around the mention of Natasha, sensing the raw pain in my words. "Kabir isn't lost, Aryan. If his love for you is genuine, and I believe it is, he'll find his way back. Perhaps there's something he's struggling to share with you right now."

"I don't know, Mom," I confessed, sinking into the couch. She sat beside me, her concern evident.

"What if he's moved on, found someone else?" I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

"No one could be better than you, Aryan," She asserted gently. "Let's face reality. And if he's truly pursuing someone else, he'll have to answer to me. I won't let him hurt you like this."

"No, please," I sighed deeply, my voice heavy with pain. "There's no need for confrontation or explanations. If there's someone else, let them be. What good is forced love from him? I just wish he had been honest with me from the start."

"Aryan," She began, her voice filled with empathy.

"It hurts, Mom," I continued, tears welling up despite my efforts to hold them back. "It's incredibly hard to comprehend why he would do this, why he would make me feel like I'm not enough."

She listened silently, her eyes reflecting the sadness in my words.

I went on, my voice trembling with emotion. "It's like I was just a toy to him, like my feelings didn't matter, like I didn't count for anything. He's always made decisions for us, as if I don't have a say in anything." I closed my eyes, trying to contain the flood of tears threatening to escape. "Since we met, he's made me cry multiple times. He's broken me, Mom."

She regarded me with a mix of firmness and love. "Aryan, remember, he's a part of your life, not your whole world. You deserve someone who truly values you. You deserve happiness and better things."

"But, Mom," I whispered, my voice heavy with pain, "when we were together, it felt like he cared deeply. He looked at me like I was everything, cared for me like dad cared for you. He's all I can think about now, and I hate that. I hate feeling so powerless, I hate being in love, I hate even being alive."

"No, Aryan, you can't say that," Mom interjected firmly, her concern evident. "Think about me, dear. You can't speak of regretting life because of a heartache. Yes, it pains me to see you like this, but losing you over this isn't an option. I've already lost your father; losing you is something I can't bear."

The silence lingered heavily between us for what felt like an eternity, only broken by the gentle hum of the fan. Despite the soft light filtering through the side window, the darkness in my heart remained impenetrable.

"Mom," I murmured, leaning against her shoulder, "I can't bear to stay here. Everything about this place reminds me of him, and I hate it."

"Alright," she whispered, her voice carrying a tinge of sadness, "let's go back to town. We'll leave this behind us."

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Somewhere between "Believing in happy endings" and "Accepting the reality", we grew up!