"Is it a manuscript or a whole textbook? Meher's books weigh lighter than this!" Chanchal scorned, holding up the manuscript Faajal received in her first meeting with Sajid Hasan. This manuscript wasn't formatted like the former ones. It had in-depth detail and instead of her character's perspective, it had bunched up other characters to picturize scenes clearer. 120 pages of descriptions and setting was deadlined to be reviewed within 2 days and today was the last day while she had 70 more pages left. "I must finish this by midnight. Tell ma I won't go with her to the bazar." Faajal sulked. Her new project demanded an extra two hours. So, it was a farewell to relaxation for at least 2 months.

"Starting tomorrow, I shall accompany you baba has told." Chanchal slumped on the bed beside Faajal. The elder arched her brows. "Baba never told me that! Why?"

"Well, he has asked me if I can fetch an offer and I also couldn't decline the chance of visiting your studio! See how my sister is treated like a queen!"

"I am no queen. Just an ordinary artist. It's nothing extravagant there. Just sets, cameras, staffs rushing around and crowded makeup rooms." Faajal flipped a page, now reaching the climax. The tension built up was precise, edging her with apprehension.

"These are still so marvellous to me!"

Faajal snickered, removing a ringlet from her eyes. This industry was a golden delusion to outsiders while the inner circle knew the turmoil behind the fame, glitters and money.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

"Is Yusuf here?" A lightman piped behind the threshold of Faajal's room. "No, I guess he's in the sweatbox." Faajal approached close.

"Can you give it to him?" He handed her a pile of letters and postcards tied with ribbon.

"Okay." She grabbed the stack and tossed it on the dressing table. She revised the script for half an hour until her nerves relinquished to boredom, and she groped for a diversion. To her shame, the stacked-up letters impulsed her curiosity. She dodged the desire, but her thoughtless side urged her so badly. Her hands crawled to the sealed envelopes but averted. Chanchal entered the room. "Oye hoye di! Abhi se hi chitthiyan aana shurhu!" She plopped beside her and untied the ribbon.

"Chanchal, no!" Faajal snatch the bundle but the younger was swift to shirk. "Le me see, let me see."

Chanchal read through the first letter. " Love letters again!"Faajal exhaled. Of course, they would heap regarding his knack for luring girls. Some lauded his dazzling appearance while some resorted to appraising his spell. "One girl named him 'Jaadugar' for his heart-throbbing gaze." Chanchal widened her eyes.

Being the partner of Yusuf Khan Dehlavi was a fair share of fortune, but at the cost of several annoyances, and this was the first of them.

Someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Pran leaned on the wall, hands tucked in pockets, whistling conspiratorially. Chanchal thrust the envelopes briskly and gulped at him.

"You shouldn't put your nose in people's private matters." He heaved a sigh, trudging near.

Chanchal walked close to him, her chin pointed high. "And you shouldn't disrupt a girl's privacy." A tinge of reproach sharpened her retort.

"She's my friend." Pran gritted out.

"She's my di." Chanchal emphasised, her eyes shooting spikes at him.

Their gazes clashed against, prickling the air with a sudden heat. Pran's glare shifted to Faajal. "Didn't you teach her how to respect elders?"

"Chanchal, what you did is wrong." Faajal flounced to her, woodening her demeanour.

Chanchal caught a shrill breath, her stare still fixed on him. "It'd be better if you learn some manners. Otherwise, you wouldn't be insisting on revealing like a brainless monkey when my di was ill."

"Chanchal!" Faajal hissed urgently, pinching her arm. Chanchal yelped and inhaled sharply. Cracking her neck, she lifted her browline. "Sorry, bhaiya ji!"

"I forgive you as I'm a kind person but such kindness is rare nowadays so behave next time." Pran smiled, crinkles shimmered beside his lips. His tan looked more polished today with a sleek hairstyle. Chanchal turned back and perched on the sofa. Her expression remained unchanged, but a slight change had occurred on her cheeks. They burned to a shade between pink and red. Her gaze was softening with twinkles dancing in them. Faajal pondered if her probs were true or her mind delved too much. But, the blush was there, on Chanchal's cheeks; a sight never seen before.

"I'm glad she finally has understood after years! By the way, I have news for you." An intent pause to wreck Faajal's patience before he continued, "I have signed the contract."

Faajal drew a gasp. "Oh my! Congratulations! I knew it!" She squealed, bouncing on her heels. "Throw us a treat of rasgullas and chaat! NOW!"

The opposed gestured with his hands of his agreement. "Dump these letters away. Yusuf doesn't care anyway. Only teasing is fun, not the outcome." He hissed before striding away.

"You literally exceeded the limit today, Chanchal!"

"Why does he put his nose here and there? Plus, it's my choice what I should check or not!"

"End it, Chanchal!" Faajal whirled her eyes, relented from the bickering.

Faajal clicked the meeting room's calling bell. She was expected to meet the producer, director Sajid Hasan, and other staff members now. The door opened, revealing a vast throng already gathered around the table. Sajid Hasan was in the middle. Piles of paper rested before him. Yusuf beamed at her, seated beside Sajid Hasan. "You're the potent beauty everyone talks about, " one of the staff remarked. Faajal flashed a feeble smile and sat on the blank seat beside Yusuf.

His fingers loomed into hers and squashed. She pressed back until their hands weaved the strongest knit. Her knee tapped his under the table as she winked at him. He quelled the smile stretching his mouth and reverted his gaze to the centre.

"As we have said, the climax will be shot first. Prabhat Studio is lending us their set for a very short time. So, firstly the climax, then the ending. These may take 2 weeks. Then, we shall jump to the beginning and mid-point."

"I hope our artists make it within less than 2 weeks. That studio is charging us heavily." The producer added, clicking his pen. "Plus, fim rolls take time to develop."

"I assure the fire scenes will be done first. So the developers can spend some time to stroke the brightest and most vivid colours. Don't worry, Sunil." Sajid Hasan turned to Yusuf and Faajal. "As for you two, it's going to be a bit lengthy time than the previous ones."

Yusuf clucked his tongue. "I don't mind, sahab. When you get a big work, extra time doesn't matter."

"Yeah, I am also comfortable," Faajal added.

"Devika Rani told me you leave no stone unturned for your projects. This shooting as you have read needs some risky stunts. So, if you two have any queries, ask it out."

"Uhmm," Yusuf struggled to find words, fiddling his fingers. "The fire scene, will it be done with a stunt double or do I have to finish it myself?" His trauma with flame prickled Faajal. Some blemishes still stayed on his chest and neck. Though barely perceptible, these bore the witness of the incident, and neither could ever forget it in their lifetime.

"Well, the actor himself playing the part helps. There are a few certain angles we can shoot in. A stunt double doesn't sound that lame but it requires angles that may spoil the shot. What's your opinion?"

Yusuf seemed troubled to get the answer. He would find a needle in a haystack for his films, but the indelible mark of that accident broke that rule. Faajal peered at him, his strain smearing on her. Pin-drop silence occupied the room. None spoke. But, their eyes fixed on Yusuf with a stare.

"I shall do it myself." He finally ended the anticipation.

"If you have any trouble, tell us."

"No, director sahab. I can do this."

"Fine, then. We shall start tomorrow with a rehearsal." Sajid Hasan left his seat. Everyone followed him behind. Chairs pounded on the floor until the room was deserted.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

"When we get something good, why does it always have to come at the cost of our worries?" Faajal screeched, cracking her knuckles.

"Sacrifices are made for good things. And one day somehow I must get over with it. Why not now?"

"Because we have a rotten luck. I don't even consider it luck."

A loud chortle jutted from his mouth, almost making him choke on the glass of water he was sipping. Drops glided onto his throat and soaked into his throat. When he finally recovered, he said, "Having each other is luck. I heard first love doesn't outlast any long."

Faajal snapped to him. "Then, what were these six years for?"

He placed his palm on his. "What?" Faajal wondered.

"Dekh raha hu kitne din aur baki hain ek saath rehne ke." His eyes keenly studied the lines of her palms.

"Toh kitne din hain jotish sahab?"

A loud sigh escaped his lungs as he folded his lips, faking a sullen look. His head shook feebly in disapproval.

"Chaliye aapka dekhte hain." Faajal giggled, intent on reflecting the joke. Her eyes traced the slashes on his palm as if weighing each stroke against the wisdom of prediction. Seconds later, she also heaved a sigh, nodding disapprovingly.

Both tried their best not to burst into laughter, but the urge stepped beyond control and they freed their cackles.

While they wandered to their rooms, screeches and groans from Faajal's room touched their path. They neared the threshold when they caught Pran and Chanchal grappling with a knot tangling Pran's ring on the hook of Chanchal's sequined dupatta.

"All hell breaks loose! Stop tugging! You'll break my ring!" Pran bellowed, hardening his nostrils.

"This used-for-nothing ring of yours has done this to my dupatta!" Chanchal retorted, her chest inflating briskly in furious breaths.

Yusuf entered the scene while Pran tried to twist his finger out. "Look Yusuf, what this girl has done!"

"Why did you even come here in the first place?" Chanchal screamed.

"It's my choice! Don't you dare!"

"Yusuf bhaiya! He had come to steal your mails! I caught him shoving those in his pockets!"

"Because she was prying those again!" Pran spat at her face, reddening with each blow.

"STOP IT YOU TWO!" Yusuf exclaimed, fuming with rage. His fair complexion turned to the hottest shade of red, even his ears flared crimson as he breathed heavily among the bickering two, now dazed by his yell.

He pulled off Pran's ring and adeptly unknotted the shimmering thread from her dupatta. Loosening the last knot, Yusuf pinned those two with such a glare, even the unguilty ones would think themselves guilty.

Pran shuffled his gaze to the floor while Chanchal hooked her bracelet right. Her cheeks now bore two pink balls.

After so long a quietness, Pran hesitated. "Sorry. Her tantrums had washed my brain so much that.....never mind."  

"Me too. Sorry, bhaiya." Chanchal pursed her lips.

"Don't say sorry to me! Say sorry to yourselves!" Yusuf declared.

"Sorry to her! Tell me to drink poison but never that!" Pran enlarged his eyeballs, bending his lips in distaste.

"I'd rather jump off a cliff than say this to HIM!" Chanchal snarled.

"NOW!" Yusuf tipped his tone with caution.

Pran sighed in defeat and turned to her, so did Chanchal. "Sorry." They both uttered simultaneously in the lowest voice they could muster as if an acrid fruit had filled their mouths.

"That's like good kids," Yusuf smirked, stretching straight his full five feet nine inches like a proud parent. 

A/N: *Sniff sniff* New couple loading in!