19
THE KING WHO LOST HIS KINGDOM.

June

(flashback)

Aastha was sitting on her desk, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She pushed them slightly, sighing as she ticked off a page with her red pen.

Red pen: the ultimate identity of a teacher.

"Aastha," Abhishek mumbled, entering the room with quick steps. "Come on, let's eat," his words almost sounded like a whine. But his wife hummed, simply flipping another page.

"Come on now, I'll start acting like a neglected husband by his career oriented wife," he teased, making her laugh easily. She finally looked up, turning to him.

"Abhay," Aastha's voice was soft, "Give me five minutes, I'll read this and come out to eat,"

"Why not right now?" His face contorted, like a child denied his candy.

"This assignment is written too well to not finish reading," she replied and Abhishek simply nodded, catching the twinkle in her eyes. He nodded, walking away.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he muttered. Aastha and the write-ups she loves. A match made in heaven.

After dinner;

"So, what was this assignment you were in love with twenty minutes ago?"

Aastha grinned, crossing her legs on the burgundy velvety sofa, hands crossing over her chest. Abhishek swore he saw stars in those eyes, excited to tell him about the things she loves.

"So...to make things a little interesting, I asked my students to write an essay. And the topic was, a king who has lost his kingdom," she paused. "He then thinks about his mistakes, thinks about how he lost everything, everything near and dear to him in his last moments,"

Abhishek narrowed his eyes, confused.

"Hein? Yeh toh English ki assignment lagg rahi hai, story writing," (This feels like an English assignment...like story writing) he questioned, sitting in front of her.

"See, that's the thing. Why do we learn history? So that we can learn from mistakes, right? That's what I wanted to see. Do they understand why civilisations collapsed? Do they understand what theoretically a country needs to know to sustain,"

"Wow," Abhishek in awe, "Smart," he muttered. "I think I would have liked doing this assignment," he mused.

"Oh really?" She teased, "You could do it,"

"Na re baba," (No, no) he shook his palms and then folded them together. She giggled, continuing.

"Okay so this student of mine, she wrote such an interesting write up. It spoke more about the capability of a ruler than the country in its own. The story is not different, heck, it's quite similar to the folk tales we've read since we were children. The way my student wrote it, she used her psychology knowledge, history knowledge, her creative writing skills, to put it together. It explores why a king lost everything.

He had it all. The smartness, the courage, a wife who loved him, yet he lost everything.

Addictions, gambling, jealousy, and. . .pride.

He gave in to every bad thought that crossed his mind, every weakness his brain formed, he had everything, and maybe that's why he was incapable of...you know, facing problems."

"Wow," Abhishek paused, "That's...interesting,"

"He defeated external enemies but when it came to his own issues. . .he gave up," she mumbled, "It reiterates that we are our worst enemies,"

___________

Aastha quietly sat down on chair, her dupatta falling on her knees as she crosses her left leg on her right one. She was seated in the row with the owner of the team- Kavya Maran who was chatting away about the next year's auction with her other business friends who were sitting with her. She nervously slid ahead, perching on the edge of the seat, waving at the cute toddler (Heinrich Klaseen's daughter) who was running around.

"Hi, hi cutie," she cooed, at the girl whose ponytails were swaying around as she ran with her plushie. Her ears were covered with soft earmuffs which had bunny-years, since the stadium was so loud.

The audience was majorly decked in bright orange jerseys, with some wearing older SRH jerseys, which were predominantly black. That kit was miles ahead of the current tiger print jerseys for sure.

The deejay's loud music drowned out her inside thoughts after one point, making her focus on the match to ignore the blaring noise he was playing. This was SRH's last match in the tournament after a weak season, which led them being eliminated from IPL 2025. They were playing against LSG today, the last group stage match in the year's tournament.

Her baby hair swayed out of her tightly woven French braid, her eyes itching, hot winds slapping her face. God, summer should end already and rains should take over.

Although, monsoon felt like it was a call away, almost always.

Figuratively and literally.

Ishan and Abhishek had slowed down the innings, the pitch seemingly taking the bowler's side for the middle overs, much to the surprise of everyone. Her eyes oscillated, watching as Abhishek took quick singles with Ishan.

"Hey there," A strong perfume overtook Aastha's senses as Aditi Hundia casually walked up to her, taking the seat to her right. Aastha beamed at her, much to Aditi's nonchalant smile, settling down. Aastha blinked looking away.

She did not expect the people she had broken contact with for months to throw flowers for her welcome, for sure. From the corner of her eye, she observed Aditi who sat there, looking like a damn portrait. Hair sitting quietly on her chest, a lingering smile on her lips, perfectly manicured nails painted a striking red, wearing a white tank top with jeans: she really was well suited for this world.

"So, you and Abhishek back together?" Aditi asked, glancing at Aastha only for a second, eyes fixated on the ground. The other girl froze. Her and Abhishek had not really gone over the details of their...arrangement.

Aastha saw Aditi's eye almost roll as she waited for an answer.

"Uh...yes. Sort of," Aastha quickly mumbled. Aditi finally tilted her head, looking at her. She opened her mouth to say something but nodded, shutting herself up. The air shifted in the moment, their previous dynamic flashing through their minds.

Nostalgia and its way of enslaving humans.

No one said anything, focusing back on the game. Relationships do better with honesty. But the truth was, Aastha did not know what her and Abhishek were.

She compared them to the king from her student's assignment. The king who lost everything due to pride. They lost everything because of their own mistakes.

___________

"Well played blokes," Pat started in the dressing room. "I know, it was a disappointing season, but we still have a lot of positives to hold onto before we return,"

Abhishek always dreaded the captain's speeches, which would make Pat's Australian accent stronger, making it more difficult to understand what he was saying at times. He glanced at Aniket who was sitting with him, who looked lost as well.

"Next year, we comeback, do this thing," he continued his words of motivation. "See y'all on the other side, as opponents now," he cheekily added, unable to leave an opportunity to tease. Abhishek looked around the room as people started cheering. It was easier for the seniors to let go of losing.

He found it difficult, wallowing in mistakes weeks after a game. Be it an Indian cricket team game or a Sunrisers Hyderabad game. Even in the IPL, with multiple continuous games, players had to move on quick, identify their mistakes, and play the next game. Doesn't matter if you scored scored 0 or conceded 50 runs.

He found it difficult to not think about.

Parr, zindagi ki yahi reet hai, haar ke baad hi jeet hai.

Oh, the IPL was full of life lessons. In frankness, cricket was full of life lessons. It was Abhishek Sharma's misfortune that he understood the cricket, but never the takeaways. The wedding ring on his finger shone under the yellow lights of the room, the noisy dressing room blurring in the background.

There was no IPL anymore, no T20Is, domestic cricket was weeks away. He didn't have anyplace to escape to. Which meant he had to confront...

"Bhai," Nitish's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "Bhai, how do you keep your ring on? This ring my mom brought me is so itchy," he complained, shaking his head.

"I don't know, I'm habituated to it," he truthfully admitted. "Put vaseline or something to make it less itchy, Aastha uses lotion all the time. She has a tendency to get itchy with jewellery,"

He did it again. Hesitating to think about her, but ready to talk about her whenever someone said anything remotely close to her. God, he was a mess.

Late at night, when Abhishek reached his room, after a dinner party with the team, Aastha was lounged on the couch, watching some Hindi soap opera on the television.

"That bored?" he asked and she instantly nodded, turning to look at him.

But as their eyes met, something shifted. They held each other's gaze for a longer second, completely fazed.

[ Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift ]

I, I loved you in spite of
deep fears that the world could divide us,
so, baby can we dance?
oh, through an avalanche?
and say, say that we got it,
I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted,
Oh, cause it's gravity,
Oh, keeping you with me

"Uh...good game," Aastha stuttered out, forcing herself to tear her gaze away. Abhishek's eyes narrowed on their own. . .that was such a strong reaction.

"Uh...tomorrow," he started speaking, clearing his throat, "We have the going away party, as you know...so, are we-we, uh...going together?" he questioned, untying his shoe laces as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah of course, that's the deal. We're faking it," she paused, the words too bitter to speak. "I mean, yeah...we are,"

The tension in the room was charged with everything unsaid. . .everything that was the post script of their words.

Abhishek swallowed, feeling his palpitations. "Aastha," he said her name out loud, "Legally...we're still bound," he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Only for two more months," she frowned, softly saying what they knew as the truth.

I could have spent forever with your hands in my pockets,
picture of your face in an invisible locket,
you said there was nothing in the world that could stop it,
I had a bad feeling.But we were dancing,
dancing with our hands tied, hands tied.

They were at a standstill. And the realisation was cruel, but they had to either end this madness, or accept the end f o r e v e r.

would love some real reviews ok thanks