The next morning felt heavier than usual.
Maybe it was the monsoon clouds.
Maybe it was the anxiety twisting quietly in Naina’s stomach.
She reached the film studio gate fifteen minutes early, clutching her camera bag like it might shield her from what was coming.
“Aarav sir is inside,” the security guard said, opening the gate. “He just arrived.”
Of course he did.
Aarav Malhotra always arrived before everyone else; fame never touched his punctuality.
Naina stepped through the hallway, the familiar smell of makeup, coffee, and fresh paint filling her senses. Assistants rushed past her, murmuring updates and holding clipboards. Everyone had a purpose.
Everyone except her.
She paused outside his private rehearsal room.
The door was slightly open.
A voice floated through low, tired, and nothing like the vibrant tone the public heard in interviews.
“Again,” Aarav said.
Music played. A soft melody. He was practicing a scene. She could hear the frustration in his voice as he repeated a line.
Naina’s fingers tightened around her badge.
For a moment, old memories tried sneaking in a boy leaning against a classroom wall, singing off-key just to irritate her… laughing when she rolled her eyes.
She pushed the memories away and knocked lightly.
The music stopped.
“Come in,” he said.
She stepped inside.
And there he was.
Aarav stood near the spotlight, hair slightly messy, wearing a simple black T-shirt and track pants. No designer clothes. No cameras. No crowd screaming his name.
But the moment he looked up, she felt the air shift.
His eyes widened. Just for a second.
A flicker of something she couldn’t name passed through them surprise, softness, fear… She wasn't sure.
“Naina Verma,” he said quietly.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
He really remembered.
“Hello, Aarav,” she replied, keeping her voice firm.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So you finally decided to show up.”
She frowned. “I was assigned to this project. I didn’t have a choice.”
“People rarely have choices around me,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Before she could respond, his manager entered.
“Oh good, you two have met,” he said. “Naina, you can begin shooting today. Aarav has only a few hours before he leaves for another event.”
Naina nodded and began setting up her camera.
Aarav watched her the entire time not arrogantly, not flirtatiously… but quietly, almost thoughtfully.
When she finally looked up, their eyes met again.
“You’ve changed,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “Everyone changes.”
“Not everyone,” he replied. “Some people are still exactly the way I remember.”
She didn’t know what he meant.
She didn’t want to know.
“Let’s start the interview,” she said, hiding her nerves behind professionalism.
He sat down in the chair, light falling over half his face.
She pressed record.
“Naina,” he said before she could ask the first question.
“Yes?”
“It’s been a long time.”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Don’t go easy on me.”
Something in her chest tightened.
She cleared her throat. “Trust me, I won’t.”
The camera blinked red.
The interview began.
But what neither of them realized…
was that this documentary wouldn’t just tell his story.
It would change both of theirs.
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