Two nights later, they met again—this time in a quieter setting. Arjun had chosen a discreet rooftop restaurant overlooking the city skyline. It was far from the bustling crowds he was used to, and for that, Meera was grateful.

As they sat across from each other, the world below them felt distant, almost irrelevant.

“I didn’t think someone like you would enjoy such a quiet place,” Meera admitted, breaking the silence.

“Maybe that’s why I do,” Arjun replied, sipping his drink. “The noise gets tiring after a while.”

Meera studied him carefully. He was different tonight—less the confident rockstar, more a man simply looking for conversation.

“So,” he continued, “tell me about your work. What made you choose medicine?”

She hesitated, unused to being the center of attention in such a personal way. “I’ve always wanted to help people. It’s not glamorous, but it’s fulfilling.”

He nodded, leaning forward slightly. “And the singing? Does that help you too?”

Meera blinked, surprised he remembered. “It’s more for myself than anything else. A way to unwind after a long day.”

“I’d like to hear you someday,” Arjun said, his voice soft but intent.

She smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t think I could sing in front of someone like you. You’re... well, you.”

“And who do you think I am?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“Someone used to stadiums, adoring fans, flashing cameras,” she replied lightly.

He leaned back, his expression turning thoughtful. “That’s part of who I am. But it’s not all of me.”

His words hung in the air, weighty and unspoken. For a moment, Meera felt as though she were glimpsing a side of Arjun that few people ever saw—a vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of fame and fortune.

“Then tell me,” she said softly, surprising even herself. “Who is the real Arjun Raichand?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual confident grin. It was smaller, quieter. “Someone who’s still figuring that out.”

As the evening wore on, they spoke of simpler things—family, childhood memories, shared loves of old Bollywood music. By the time they said goodbye, Meera felt her walls begin to soften, bit by bit.

Arjun walked her to her car, pausing before she got in.

“I meant what I said the other night,” he said. “I’m looking for something real.”

Meera met his gaze, her heart pounding. “And you think you’ll find it with me?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “If you’ll let me try.”

She didn’t answer right away, unsure of what to say. Instead, she offered him a small smile before driving off into the night.

For the first time in years, Meera felt the faint stirrings of possibility—of something new and unexpected.

And she wasn’t sure if she was ready, but she knew one thing: she wanted to see where it might lead.