WICKETS AND WIDGETS

Back To Mumbai

This is a short chapter, my bad. Science students do not really have a lot of time usually on their hands, but me being me, I don't give a duck about science just like science does not give a duck about me. So yeah, Enjoy whatever it is because honestly, it feels like my story's going haywire at this point *Sigh*, happens, I guess.

PS- I am not that talkative in reality but virtual me is a parrot who doesn't know when to stop :)

I lay on my bed, my breaths coming out in soft gasps as I struggled to contain a whirlwind of emotions within me. Betrayal, agony, love - they all tangled in my heart. I felt like a lifeless shell, unable to move, my eyes fixed on my father's photo by my bedside.

"Dad, what should I do?" My voice was barely audible, shattered by grief.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly until my phone rang again. With trembling hands, I answered without checking the caller ID.

"Hello," I managed, my voice carrying the weight of my brokenness.

There was a solemn pause at the other end of the line, followed by a tremulous voice, "Aryan, it's Kabir... he..."

"Siraj?" Concern shot through me, jolting me upright.

"Kabir... he attempted... something terrible," Siraj's voice quivered with seriousness and fear.

My eyes widened in shock, a surge of panic coursing through me, "W-What do you mean by 'he'—" My voice faltered, breaking under the weight of fear, "He's alright, isn't he?"

His usually lively voice turned solemn, his words slow and heavy, "He's in the hospital," he paused, uncertainty coloring his tone, "We need you here."

My heart raced as I struggled to process the news. "I—" I tried to speak, but he interrupted me.

"I know things have changed between you two, but please, Aryan," his plea was raw with emotion, "He's still deeply in love with you. Please, there's only so much we, his friends, can do."

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady myself, "He called me earlier today."

"He did?" He sounded surprised.

I hummed, a tremor in my voice betraying my composure, "He was drunk and upset, but it didn't sound like he—" I stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

"He did," He affirmed softly. "Please, Aryan, you need to be here."

With a heavy sigh, I replied, "I'll be there. Just keep an eye on him, Siraj."

"Yes," he acknowledged, and the call ended, leaving me engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions.

The weight of Siraj's words hung heavily in the air as the call ended, leaving me with a sense of urgency and sorrow. I sat there, my thoughts swirling in a sea of emotions, each wave crashing with the realization of how fragile everything truly was.

"He's still in love with you," Siraj's words echoed in my mind, a painful reminder of the tangled feelings that remained between us despite everything.

I descended the stairs, my steps heavy with worry, and found my mother seated, engrossed in something on TV. "Ma," I called out, my voice trembling.

She turned to me, her brows furrowing at the sight of my red-rimmed eyes. "Aryan? What's wrong? Why do you look so distressed?"

"I... I need to go to Mumbai," I choked on the words, tears threatening to spill.

Her expression shifted to alarm, "Mumbai? Why would you go there? What's left for you there?"

"Ma," I interrupted, trying to steady my voice, "Kabir is in the hospital. I need to be there for him."