Aarav Malhotra had lived his whole life in front of cameras, but tonight he couldn’t stand the sight of one.
The city lights of Mumbai blurred outside his penthouse window, melting into streaks of gold as the monsoon rain poured down the glass. He pressed a hand to the cold pane, breathing slowly, as if trying to keep himself steady… as if trying to stop the world from slipping away.
Not yet, he whispered to himself. Just a little more time.
His phone buzzed beside him. Another message from his manager. Another reminder about the hospital appointment he had already postponed twice.
Aarav shut his eyes.
There were moments in life when even a superstar felt helpless.
Moments when applause couldn’t drown the fear inside your chest.
Moments when everything you built, everything you pretended to be, cracked in one quiet second.
This was his.
He walked back to his desk, where an old, worn-out notebook lay open.
A school notebook.
Her handwriting was still on the first page.
Naina Verma.
The girl who once knew him better than he knew himself.
The girl whose laughter he’d memorized long before fame ever found him.
The girl whose absence still felt like an unfinished sentence.
He lifted the notebook, running his fingers over her name.
If life had been kinder, he would’ve called her today.
If time had been slower, he would’ve told her everything.
If he had been braver, he would’ve never let her go.
But time wasn’t listening.
And fate was never kind.
His phone buzzed again, this time with a new notification.
“Documentary Proposal Confirmed. Director: Naina Verma.”
Aarav froze.
For the first time in months, he felt something other than fear.
It wasn’t hope.
It wasn’t happiness.
It was a second chance wrapped in pain.
He whispered her name like a prayer he had forgotten how to say.
“Naina…”
In a world where time was running out, she was the only thing he wished he could go back to.
And tomorrow, she would walk back into his story
whether he was ready or not.
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