Ishan

Part 8

Shubman and Ishan sat in an Expensive café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

Shubman leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. "So, where could he be now...? Do you know that girl?" he asked, his tone casual yet probing.

Ishan shook his head, his voice low. "I don't know where he is. I don't know anything about her," he admitted, his heart racing at the thought of Shashank being with someone else.

Shubman sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We should check in that club itself," he suggested, his voice firm with determination.

Ishan nodded, but a heavy silence hung between them, thick with unspoken words.

After a moment, Ishan glanced at Shubman and noticed that his coffee sat untouched, the steam rising from the cup dissipating into the air.

"Why aren't you drinking the coffee?" Ishan asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Shubman chuckled bitterly, a sharp edge to his laughter. "I'm not used to these expensive cafés and coffees, so no thanks..." he replied dismissively.

Ishan felt a pang of hurt at Shubman's cold words, the taunt stinging more than he expected.

He wanted to say something, to apologize for the way things had turned out, but he knew it wouldn't matter.

Shubman wouldn't listen. So, he looked down at his lap, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders.

The atmosphere grew tense as Ishan tried to gather his thoughts, the unspoken emotions swirling around them like a thick fog.

He couldn't shake the feeling that they were both lost in their own worlds, unable to bridge the gap between them.

They stepped out of the café, and the sunlight hit Ishan's face, but it did little to warm the chill in his heart. The weight of his husband's betrayal hung heavily on him. 

He spotted a taxi waiting by the curb and turned to Shubman, attempting to sound more confident than he felt. "Let's go," he said, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.

Shubman glanced at the taxi, then back at Ishan, a smirk creeping onto his face. "You really have a smart brain," he taunted, his tone sharp. "So, you're going to spy on someone with a public taxi? Very cool."

Ishan felt a wave of embarrassment and frustration wash over him. "Not that I have a car here. I live in Dehradun," he retorted, crossing his arms defensively, though he knew it wouldn't help.

"Oh, then buy one. 

come on... Your husband has a lot of money, 

and I'm sure you do too," Shubman shot back, his voice laced with bitterness.

Ishan sighed, trying to steady himself against the weight of Shubman's words. "Shubman, can you please stop taunting me?" he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly. "This isn't easy for me."

"I'm just stating the facts," Shubman replied, the edge in his voice growing sharper. He turned away, his expression hardened, leaving Ishan feeling even more isolated.

Ishan swallowed hard, fighting back tears as he tried to hold his composure. "You're a genius? Then tell me how we're supposed to go there?" he challenged, the desperation in his voice creeping through.

Shubman's gaze darkened as he turned back, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across his features.

"Don't know about you, but I'm going on my bike." He started walking toward his motorcycle, a wall of indifference closing in around him.