Page 45 of Okay Boss
She’d be working with other actors. Solving other people’s problems. Standing in other doorways.
The thought sent something dark and possessive coiling through his chest.
Outside, he heard her voice, calm, efficient, coordinating something with the assistant director. The sound of her being exactly what she was: competent, capable, completely unaware of how thoroughly she’d gotten under his skin.
He’d spent five months telling himself she was just his assistant.
Five months lying to himself.
Because standing in that doorway, feeling her breath against his chest, seeing the want in her eyes that matched his own, there was no more pretending.
He wanted her.
And that wanting was becoming impossible to ignore.
Chapter 11
One Week Later
The mandap rose at the center of the soundstage, red fabric, gold trim, strings of marigolds framing a small sacred fire. Beautiful. Controlled. Carefully arranged beneath harsh studio lights.
Seven days into filming the climax, and Farhan looked like a man watching something slip through his fingers.
Vikram stood at the edge of the set, script pages crushed in his fist, shoulders rigid with frustration.
The wedding scene, the emotional peak ofDil Aur Desk, refused to come alive.
Every take looked perfect. Every take felt empty.
“It’s still not right,” Farhan said, voice cutting through the drained silence. He dragged both hands through his hair. “You’re giving me perfection. I need truth.”
Divya stood near the monitors, notebook pressed lightly to her chest. She had watched every attempt, fifty-nine takes stretched across a week. Vikram hit every mark. Spoke every line with precision.
And that precision was the problem.
“I know what you want,” Vikram replied, control thinning at the edges. He gestured toward the mandap, the fire, the garlands,the waiting sindoor. “But this doesn’t feel earned. It feels staged.”
Farhan stared at him, then at the mandap, then back. “Itisstaged. That’s cinema. Your job is to make it breathe.”
Around them, crew members busied themselves with cables and reflectors, eyes carefully lowered. The tension had been building all week, quiet, steady, volatile.
Divya glanced at her watch. 6:17 PM. Ten hours on this scene already.
Her phone buzzed. Transport coordinator: “Anika still stuck in Andheri traffic. ETA minimum 2 hours.”
She moved toward Vikram, steps light.
“Anika’s delayed,” she said quietly. “At least two more hours.”
His jaw flexed.
Two more hours of waiting. Two more hours of standing inside a scene that should have carried the film’s heartbeat but instead felt like reciting memorized lines.
“We block it now.” Farhan’s decision cracked through the set. “We’re not losing another night. This mandap goes in three days.”
“With what?” Vikram shot back. “Anika isn’t here.”
“We use a stand-in.”
