Naina Verma believed life was unfair, but some days it felt almost personal.
She sat stiffly in the cramped meeting room of the OTT studio, fingers tapping the edge of her notebook as her boss shuffled through papers like he was preparing a funeral announcement. The air conditioner rattled overhead, blowing warm air instead of cold - just her luck.
“Naina,” he finally said, “we have a new project for you.”
She forced a polite smile. “What kind of project?”
“A documentary.”
Another pause.
“On… Aarav Malhotra.”
Her heart dropped before she could stop it.
Aarav.
Of all people.
Of all stories in Mumbai.
Her pen slipped from her hand and clattered onto the table. She didn’t pick it up.
“Sir, why me?” she asked, keeping her voice steady. “There are other senior directors. More experienced.”
“He asked for you.”
The words were simple.
But they hit her like a punch.
She blinked. “He… remembered me?”
Her boss shrugged. “His team specifically mentioned your name. You start tomorrow. He’s busy; his schedule is unpredictable, so finish as quickly as possible.”
Naina wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or walk out of the room and pretend this day never happened.
Ten years had passed since she left that part of her life behind.
Ten years since she last saw Aarav Malhotra the boy who borrowed her notes, teased her endlessly, and vanished from her world overnight.
And now he wanted her to tell his story?
Her boss pushed a file toward her. She stared at it like it was a ticking bomb.
“Naina, this is a big opportunity. Just… don’t say no.”
She didn’t say no.
Because she couldn’t.
Not when her phone buzzed again with another message from her younger brother:
Didi, tuition fees are due. Please help.
Reality always knew how to pull her back.
She swallowed hard and gathered her things. “I’ll do it.”
Her boss smiled in relief. “Good. And Naina… Be prepared. He seems different these days.”
Different?
Naina doubted he remembered what he used to be.
She left the building and stepped into the noisy Mumbai street. Rickshaws honked, people shouted, someone was bargaining aggressively with a fruit seller, and the smell of rain lingered in the air.
But her mind wasn’t here.
It was stuck on one name she had tried very hard to forget.
Aarav Malhotra.
The superstar.
The man everyone adored.
The boy who once made her feel seen then disappeared without a single explanation.
Why would he want her now?
As she walked toward the bus stop, she whispered to herself,
“Whatever this is… I’ll keep it professional.”
But deep inside, she knew there was no such thing as “professional” when it came to him.
Tomorrow, she would face Aarav again.
Whether she was ready or not.
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