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Sid's POV

"Yeah... Sid? What's up?" Ranveer said, entering the living room.

Sid got up from his chair, leaning slightly toward him.

"Bhai... there's a problem, and I need your advice to solve it."

"What is it?" Ranveer asked, a line of concern visible on his face.

"Kiara and I are drifting apart," Sid said in a low voice.

"It's not even been two years! What the hell?" Ranveer said, frowning.

"I know, and that's why I'm worried," Sid admitted, staring at the concrete floor.

Ranveer facepalmed himself. "I get these things, to be honest."

"Yeah, I know… because of Deepika di. Bhai, that's why I came to ask for a solution," Sid said, his eyes welling up with tears.

"How is she behaving? I mean, how can you tell she's being different?" Ranveer asked, determination in his voice—he had always seen Sid as his little brother.

"She… she barely talks to me these days, and above all, she gets angry really quickly. It's like she's trying to avoid me!" Sid said, pacing back and forth.

"Ah… so that's why you both have been coming to the shoot in different cars," Ranveer noted, frowning. "Any more details?"

"No… umm… well, last night, she seemed really frightened in her sleep," Sid recalled.

"And this is the first time you've noticed something like this in two years?" Ranveer asked, standing up from the couch.

"Yeah. It's unusual," Sid said, still lost in thought.

"Was she muttering anything?"

"Nah… no… wait! She was! She was saying something like— 'No, no. Please leave me,'" Sid said, suddenly remembering.

"That means some sort of trauma is haunting her. It's just my guess, but you need to talk to her soon, Sid. Or you may never get a chance," Ranveer said, grabbing Sid’s shoulders firmly.

Sid nodded, determination flashing in his eyes, and without another word, he rushed out of the house.

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Author's POV

Kartik stood in his kitchen, stirring a simmering pot of pasta sauce. The rich aroma of garlic and basil filled the air, but his mind was too preoccupied to appreciate it. Tonight was important. Kriti was finally back after weeks of vacation, and she had agreed to come over for dinner.

And tomorrow, they’d be facing the cameras together again—playing friends on-screen while navigating the ruins of what they once had off-screen.

The doorbell rang. Kartik wiped his hands, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

There she was. Kriti Sanon, effortlessly stunning in a simple black dress, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. She had that post-vacation glow, her skin sun-kissed, her eyes lighter. She looked happy. He hated that he didn’t know if he was part of that happiness anymore.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied, steppingaside. “Come in.”

She hesitated for half a second before walking in. The house was familiar, yet different. The last time she had been here, they were… together. Now, they were just two co-stars trying to navigate past emotions before facing the world again.

“You’re cooking?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked into the kitchen.

He smirked. “I can surprise people, you know.”

She let out a small laugh. “That’s new.”

He placed the plates on the table. “Thought we should eat before tomorrow. It’s gonna be a long day.”

She nodded, taking a seat. “Yeah… our first movie together after—” She stopped herself.

Kartik glanced at her but didn’t push. Instead, he picked up his fork. “Let’s just say… it’ll be interesting.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t effortless either. There were too many unsaid things between them, too many memories lingering in the air.

“So…” Kriti finally spoke. “Are we okay? I mean, tomorrow—”

“We’ll be fine,” he interrupted. “We’re professionals.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Yeah. But I wasn’t talking about just the movie.”

His fingers tightened around the fork. He could pretend. He could brush it off like it didn’t matter. But it did.

He sighed. “I don’t know, Kriti. I want us to be okay. More than okay.”

She exhaled softly. “I don’t know either, Kartik. But we can’t ignore the past.”

“I’m not asking us to,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I just… I miss us. Even if it’s just being friends again.”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she took another bite of the pasta. Then, with a small smirk, she said, “You know, if you keep cooking like this, I might consider forgiving you.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Then I’ll have to keep cooking for you.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say no. And somehow, that felt like a step forward. And as they continued eating, something in the air felt lighter—like the possibility of something new, something hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, a pinch of love was all they needed.

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[At house]

Sidharth stepped into the house, rolling his shoulders to shake off the exhaustion of the day. It was unusually quiet. Normally, by this time, Kiara would be humming a song, scrolling through her phone on the couch, or playfully demanding his attention. Things have changed drastically since the past few days.

“Kiara?” he called out, kicking off his shoes. No response.

A slight frown creased his forehead as he walked further inside. The lights were on, her sandals were by the door, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Kiara?” His voice was a little louder now, laced with concern.

He checked the living room. Empty. The kitchen—silent. His heart started beating faster. She never left without telling him.

Just as he turned towards the bedroom, he heard a faint sound—a soft thud. His chest tightened as he rushed inside.

And there she was.

Kiara stood near the bed, her hand clutching the edge of the side table as her knees wobbled beneath her. Before he could process anything, her body gave way.

“Kiara!” Sidharth lunged forward, catching her just in time.

Her body was limp, her head resting against his chest. Panic surged through him as he gently patted her cheek. “Babe, wake up! Kiara!”

She let out a faint, barely audible murmur, her eyelashes fluttering but not quite opening. His heart pounded as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He pressed his palm against her forehead—it was burning.

“Damn it, you have a fever,” he muttered, brushing her hair back. “Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I...don't feel good. I feel nauseated Sid....do something." Kiara said and fell unconscious.

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Yours,
Author.

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