Checkmate - By Mohommad Ihthasham

Written By: Mohommad Ihthasham

Category: Short story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the vibrant setting of New York, Mohommad Ihthasham brings us "Checkmate," a compelling short story submitted to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This narrative unfolds over a seemingly simple game of chess, yet it dives deep into the intricacies of human relationships. As part of the competition's celebration of creative writing, Ihthasham's work stands out for its introspective exploration of connection and the silent battles within.

About the Work

"Checkmate" intricately weaves the metaphor of a chess game with the complexity of a relationship reaching its end. Through rich imagery and a reflective tone, Ihthasham captures the essence of strategy and unpredictability inherent in both love and chess. The story's mood shifts from nostalgic to poignant, conveying a powerful message about the importance of honesty and communication.

Checkmate

Original Submission by Mohommad Ihthasham

-Checkmate

We met for a late lunch, but we ended up facing across a chessboard. It wasn’t planned; it just sat there waiting patiently between us like a dare. The café planted on a random busy street of New York had dim yellow lighting that made everything look softer than it really was. The kind of light that forgives yet observes.

The gold trimmed bracelet made a rhythmic moan when you picked up the white pieces. “I’ll start”, you said. Of course you would. You always liked to begin things.

With sweaty palms I moved a pawn and so did you. It started slow. The art of give and take, the kind of rhythm we both knew too well. The small talk filled the spaces between the move.

“How’s your mother?”, you asked.

“Fine”.

“Good”, you nodded.

You used to love how I played chess. How I thought before I moved. How I stared onto the strategic battlefield manifesting my inner Capablanca. But now I caught you watching the clock instead.

“You have gotten slower”, you said half interested.

“Maybe I’m just more careful now”, I grinned.

Your smile twitched. “You used to be sure”.

I wanted to tell you that I used to be sure about us too. Once every move, every sacrifice I made was just for you. That I used to close my eyes and picture where we would end up. Happily, ever after. King and queen unscratched, untouched in the same corner of the board. Yet I held it back.

Instead, I moved my knight. With your eyebrow raised, “Bold”, you said, and countered it without breaking a sweat.

You had gotten better.

Not just at chess.

The world felt distant as soft chatter and the smooth jazz disappeared, as if we were the last two people left inside this never-ending ritual of a game. We’d played this game so many times. Still, every time felt like an exam we kept failing.

You leaned forward, your hands on mine. “Do you remember the first time we played?”

I nodded.

“You let me win”.

“Maybe”, you giggled. “But you looked so happy”.

I felt your warm hands drift apart. There was a pause. Long enough for both of us to feel what it used to feel like.

You attacked with your bishop. I defended with my rook.

With a frustrated eyeroll, you sighed, “You always play safe.”

“Someone has to.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want that security anymore.”

I paused. It hadn’t been about the game. I guess it hadn’t been for a while.

We used to stay up till three in the morning arguing with bright, full eyes about who loved the other more. Now the silence was louder. Every time I moved a piece your eyes followed as if you already knew what I would do. Like you studied this beta version of me that would never change.

You captured my rook.

“Sorry”, you mumbled.

No, you are not.

You glanced at my hopeless corpse and for a second, I saw all the words which went unsaid. The confessions sealed behind your lips. The constantly rehearsed goodbyes lodged in your throat.

I took your queen.

You froze.

It wasn’t relief that hit me. It was grief. Because you had always been my queen; powerful and unpredictable but now she was gone. She was lying beside my cup of cold coffee. Motionless.

You looked down at me, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You were coming for my king”, I said.

“You could have moved”, you snapped.

And that’s when I realized, that’s what you wanted.

You leaned back, the air between us sharp to the touch.

“I think we have been playing this game for a long time”, you whispered. “Maybe we just forgot how to win. Or maybe we stopped playing the same game.”

You traced your finger over the queen, “You still think everything can be fixed if you plan it right, don’t you?”

“Your move”, you said.

I stared deep into the board. My king was cornered. The pawns useless. Every opportunity I saw ended the same way.

“You still could win”, you gently said. “If you think enough.”

“No”, I said. “I think I already lost”.

You fixed your hair, “When?”

I didn’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t one move. It was every move leading to this mistake. Every time the lies comforted us rather than the truth. Every time I had to protect us instead of giving you my love.

You moved your last piece.

“Check”, you whispered.

I looked down. The trap, there it was, beautiful yet inevitable. You have been building it for minutes… maybe months.

I could delay it. Maybe. Maybe move the king around, pretend we still have time. Pretend there was still a way out.

But… you knew I wouldn’t. You knew I’d rather end it clean rather than drag it out.

“Checkmate”, you said.

You leaned back, exhaling in relief. “Guess this is it”. You started packing your pieces back into the box, quiet, careful. You had always been good at endings”.

I watched your subtle hands, those same hands that used to play with my beard, now tucking away what was left of us.

“It was nice playing with you”, you said. When you left, the chair stayed warm for a while. I stared at the pieces. They fit into the pine paneled box so well, as if nothing had happened. Like everything was designed to end.

I sat there until the barista started picking up the leftovers. Then I started to pack up the board, slow and deliberate. The last piece I hid was the king because I needed a moment just to look at him cornered and alone.

You read me like a book and still played every move.

Fine…

Checkmate.

You win.

-Mohammed Ihthasham

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, invites writers worldwide to share their unique voices and narratives. This prestigious event showcases a diverse array of literary talent, encouraging authors to explore themes with depth and creativity. Participants from various genres come together, making it a vibrant platform for storytelling and poetic expression.

Thank you, Mohommad Ihthasham, for sharing your evocative short story "Checkmate" with us. Your participation in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 adds depth to the event, offering readers a chance to reflect on the delicate balance of relationships. We appreciate your contribution and look forward to more of your thought-provoking work.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.