Page 46 of Okay Boss
The words settled over the nearly empty soundstage.
It was late. Most of the crew had already wrapped. Only a skeleton team lingered, lights dimmed to working levels, cables coiled halfway, fatigue hanging heavy.
Near the equipment cart, the set photographer adjusted his camera settings, preparing to document the blocking for continuity. Standard procedure. He’d been doing it all week, capturing angles and positions for reference.
Farhan’s gaze swept the room.
The art head lifted her chin in warning before he could speak. Not her.
The junior PA hugged her clipboard and stepped back.
And then.
Divya.
Standing beside the camera cart, notebook balanced in one hand. Her glasses had slipped; she nudged them up with her knuckle.
Vikram’s eyes followed the movement.
Farhan noticed the stillness between them. The invisible line that always seemed to connect Vikram’s performance to her presence these days.
A slow, assessing look crossed his face. “Divya.”
She straightened slightly. “Sir?”
“I need you for blocking. Just positions. Nothing else. Vikram needs to lock in the movements before Anika gets here.”
Her fingers tightened on the notebook. This wasn’t in her job description.
She looked at Vikram. He forced a shrug. Casual. Detached.
“Just blocking,” he said evenly, ignoring the sudden tightening in his chest.
A beat.
Then she nodded. “Okay, Boss.”
She placed the notebook down carefully, as if setting aside armor.
“Good,” Farhan said briskly. “Get her a dupatta. Something bridal.”
The wardrobe team moved fast.
A deep red dupatta was lifted from the rack. Crimson silk, heavy with gold embroidery that shimmered under the lights.
The color of wedding saris. The color of commitment. The color of forever.
They draped it over Divya’s simple cream kurta, adjusting the fabric to frame her face. One assistant reached for her glasses, but Divya stepped back.
“The glasses stay,” she said softly but firmly.
The assistant glanced at Farhan, who nodded. “Leave them. This isn’t about how she looks. It’s about physical blocking.”
Divya stepped into the mandap, and the world tilted.
The dupatta settled across her shoulders, heavier than it should be, red silk brushing her arms, soft but impossible to ignore. Thelights above burned white and harsh. Every shadow looked too clear.
Jasmine garlands swayed gently overhead, their scent thick in her lungs. Too sweet.
