What after That?

Ch 92

In that breathless instant, the world collapsed into a singular, agonizing heartbeat. Ishan could do nothing but gaze at Shubman, his heart suddenly suspended between the sweet, flooding warmth of relief and the cold, sharp prickle of fear. 

The noise around them vanished into silence. 

Slowly, with hands that barely felt his own, Ishan set the varmala back onto the cold brass plate, turning to face the storm he both prayed for and dreaded.

"Ishan!!" His father's roar shattered against the stillness, but the threats carried no weight now—fading into background noise, completely drowned.

Meanwhile one of the bride's brothers stepped forward, looking Shubman up and down. "Kaun ho be tum? Natak company se ho kya?"

Shubman glanced at him for a second. Then—

BANG!

He fired a shot into the ground right in front of them. The brothers instinctively jumped back.

"Asli hai ye...aur main chala bhi dunga."

With the gun still pressed against Raj's temple, Shubman gave him a small push forward. Ishan's father's jaw tightened. The hatred in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Shubman folded one hand with a fake sweet smile. "oh main kiya ji paaye lagu, sasur ji." His gaze then shifted toward the Sarpanch, whose eyes had widened in disbelief.

"Kya aise aankhen khol ke kya dekh rahe ho? Achha... aapko pata nahi hoga si na abhi tak."

The Sarpanch remained speechless. Ishan's father suddenly stepped forward, trying to pull Raj away. Shubman immediately pressed the gun harder against Raj's temple.

"Chill, sasur ji."

Without another word, Shubman slowly walked toward the stage. Toward Ishan. The moment he stood in front of him, Ishan didn't even notice the gun anymore.

His eyes wandered over every bruise. Every bandage. The sling supporting Shubman's fractured arm.

Climbing onto the stage, Shubman finally turned to truly look at Ishan, all while keeping the gun pressed firmly against Raj. Seeing the single tear slipping down Ishan's face, Shubman leaned in softly to kiss it away. 

As he pulled back, Ishan instinctively reached out, his trembling fingers tracing every bandage wrapping around Shubman's skin. 

A heartbroken frown settled on Ishan's face—the raw cruelty of it hit him all at once as he saw just how brutally they had beaten him.

Shubman blinked his eyes in response—as if silently telling him, I'm okay. Then, without another word, he shifted the gun toward the bride. The girl froze, trembling as the barrel pointed directly at her.

Never taking his eyes off the crowd, Shubman whispered,

"Chal..."

For a heartbeat, Ishan remained rooted to the spot. 

Then he nodded.

With trembling hands, he tore off his pagdi, letting it fall to the stage before stepping down beside Shubman, who never lowered the gun from the bride.

Turning toward the bride's brothers, Shubman wore a sweet, almost mocking smile.

"Ji...mere dost wapas de do."

The Sarpanch's face drained of colour. He immediately turned toward his sons, panic creeping into his voice.

"Sabko chhod do! Abhi!"

Before anyone could move, Ishan's father stepped forward in protest. "Aap ise aise hi jaane denge? Isne sabke saamne tamasha kar diya!"

The Sarpanch slowly turned toward him. The fury in his eyes was enough to make the surrounding crowd fall silent.