What after That?

Ch 28.

"Ishan tujhe love letters likhta hai?!" Simran and Abhi's simultaneous exclamation echoed in the room.

Shubman, caught off guard, blinked nervously, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. 

"Nahi bhai..." he stammered, trying to regain composure. "Wo... wo kyun love letter likhega mereko? Bandi thodi hoon main uski..." he added awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Simran let out a small laugh, the tension in the room easing just a little, while Abhi wasn't as quick to let it go. 

He raised an eyebrow at Shubman, still skeptical. "To tujhe aisa kyun laga usne likha hoga?" Abhi asked, not fully convinced.

Shubman looked up, clearly uncomfortable but trying to play it cool. "Umm... wo, tujhe to pata hi hai na... humari kuchh khaas banti nahi hai..." he said, gesturing vaguely. 

It was a weak defense, but it worked enough to make Abhi nod, though the suspicious look hadn't entirely left his face. 

But the question was why Shubman was even felt like he was defending himself for this.

The tension faded further as the three of them started digging into Simran's lunch. 

Shubman, piped up with his usual grin, "Oyee... itna tasty khana humse bachane ke liye akele lunch karti hai?" he teased, his tone light and playful.

Simran, shaking her head with a chuckle, replied, "Haan, khaaskar tujhse."

Shubman put on a mock-offended expression. "Yaar, tu humare saath lunch kiya kar..."

Abhi, joining in with a hopeful tone, added, "Haan yaar, please."

Simran, rolling her eyes playfully, finally gave in. "Fine..." she agreed, smiling.

As Shubman and Abhi began to walk out of the classroom, Shubman paused, turning back to Simran. 

With his trademark grin, he said, "Simran... pehle hum dost hain, 

fir baad ki bakchodi to chalti rehti hai. 

Agar tereko hurt hota hai to muh pe bola kar, haq se."

Simran, caught by surprise at his sincerity, smiled warmly back at the two boys. "Sahi kaha... pehle hum dost hain," she echoed, her smile genuine.

Abhi, not one to miss a beat, quipped, "Cricket khelegi?"

Without hesitation, Simran nodded, her eyes lighting up. "Definitely."

Shubman, ever the jokester, chimed in, "Woohh... ab to main first ball pe out..." feigning worry as they walked together.

Simran rolled her eyes at his dramatic declaration, walking beside them, her mood visibly lighter. 

It was a small but meaningful moment—an unspoken agreement that despite everything, they were friends first.

As the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Shubman and his friends scrambled to collect their bags. 

They had been bunking classes after lunch, playing cricket and enjoying the freedom, unlike Simran, who had returned to class. 

When Shubman reached his classroom to grab his bag, he felt a twinge of disappointment—Ishan was already gone. He didn't know why, but he had wanted to talk to him. 

Why, though? Shubman brushed the thought aside, but it lingered at the back of his mind.

The group of boys gathered outside the school gates, chatting and joking as they rode their bicycles.