Is This Love? [Shubman Gill x Ishan Kishan]

Chapter Eleven

February 2024

The early February sun filters weakly through the heavy curtains of Ishan's new apartment in Mumbai, casting a dim light over the messy room. Empty bottles and dirty clothes litter the bedroom floor, a result of not having been cleaned in days.

Ishan lays on his bed, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He stares blankly at the muted television, the images blurring together. His head pounds with a relentless headache, a combination of his constant drinking and the lack of proper sleep.

He's never been a huge drinker, even at parties he limits himself to a couple of drinks. But he'd much rather sit here with a dumb mind than think about Shubman or his career.

He can't believe he's gotten to this point. He doesn't have his career or Shubman to fall back on. He knows that it's all his fault, that he should have given his career the same importance that Shubman had when they were together. Ishan stares at the promise ring he's wearing, he knows it's all a lie but he still hopes that Shubman will come back and fulfill those promises.

He takes another swing of the bottle, finishing it before letting it drop to the floor. The bottle rolls away until it hits the wall and Ishan chuckles in a drunken haze.

He's spent the last week doing the same three things; drinking, sleeping, and ignoring text messages and calls from worried friends. He chose to step down from future test matches, knowing he won't even perform to 1% of his abilities. It becomes news, annoying, useless news. And he wishes he can make all of it go away.

His mother's calls have been the hardest to ignore. He misses her voice, her food, her hugs. Even though her calls and messages are filled with worry and love, he still can't seem to bring himself out of this weird limbo.

A loud knock on the door brings Ishan back to reality and for a moment he doesn't want to get up and answer. He waits a minute before slowly getting up and making his way to the door, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He opens the door a crack, peering out with bloodshot eyes.

His mother stands on the other side, her face pulled with concern and luggage in his hands. The sight of her hits Ishan like a punch to the gut, and he feels a fresh wave of shame wash over him. He wants to close the door and run away but he knows that's not a viable option, even in his drunken haze.

Ishan steps back before opening the door to let his mother in. He doesn't wait for her reaction to his state, just walks back to his room and lays back down on his bed. He's not sure what he should even say to her, especially in this state.

"Ishan," Suchitra calls out, voice strained. "Ishan!"

Ishan ignores her calls and grabs his blanket before pulling it over his head, maybe he can block her out. He doesn't want to talk to her while he's drunk out of his mind.

The plan doesn't work and Suchitra grabs the blanket and rips it off of Ishan, "Utho! (Get up!)" She yells, slapping Ishan's face lightly. She moves back slightly when she smells the alcohol off of Ishan, "Dopahar ho gaee hai aur tumni sharab pee rakhi hai? (It's the afternoon and you're drink?)"

"Ma," Ishan groans, "Mujhe mat disturb karo. (Don't disturb me.)"

"Isha, utho. Abhe se abhe utho," Suchitra says, blinking back tears.

Suchitra feels her heart ache as she looks at son, who lay motionless on the bed, his back turned to her. The room smells of alcohol and the dirty state of it is only more evidence that Ishan's not doing as well as he had claimed to on the phone.

She blinks back tears, refusing to let herself break down in front of him. Instead she takes a deep breath and tries again, "Ishan, tumhe utnah hoga. Aise nahi chalega (Ishan, you have to get up. This won't do)," She says, this time her voice is firmer.