Still With You

The studio smelled the same — a mix of fresh paint, old wood, and something distinctly cinematic. It was strange how places held memories. Aaradhya Banerjee stood still for a moment at the entrance of Set 3, the one she'd spent hours pacing as an assistant director, back when she was still invisible to most — except one.

Her fingers clutched the script she had rewritten three times the night before, though not a single page had changed. She wasn’t nervous. At least, that’s what she told herself. After all, this was her directorial debut. Her dream. Her name, for the first time, was printed in bold on the clapboard.

But even dreams come with ghosts. And hers was about to walk right through that set door any minute now.

"Aaru, coffee?"

She blinked and turned. It was Tanya, her best friend since film school, now her assistant director — sharp-tongued, fiercely loyal, and the only one who knew every detail of her heartbreak.

Aaradhya shook her head. “Too early. I might throw it at someone.”

Tanya smirked. “That someone’s not here yet. But he will be. And he signed the contract, which means he’s yours for the next two months. Lucky you.”

Aaradhya rolled her eyes, but her throat was tight. She hated that one name still had the power to twist her like this.

Siddharth Kapoor.

India’s heartthrob. Critics’ favorite. And once upon a time, her whole universe. She hadn’t seen him since the night everything collapsed — the shouting, the accusations, the silence that followed. He never called. And she never explained. Maybe because she couldn’t. Or maybe because part of her had wanted him to fight for her harder.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he ended up in a relationship with Nidhi Singh, the very woman who stood at the root of everything broken.

Tanya nudged her. “You don’t have to act brave. Just be you. And don’t kill him unless the camera’s rolling.”

“Noted,” Aaradhya muttered.

Voices echoed through the corridor — chatter, laughter, the usual pre-shoot chaos. And then it happened. The room stilled, at least for her.

He walked in like he owned the space — confident, poised, and effortlessly magnetic. His hair was a little longer, his face leaner, and yet, heartbreakingly familiar.

Siddharth Kapoor.

His eyes met hers across the room. For a second, the world dropped away. No lights. No crew. No years between them. Just that unbearable stillness.

He smiled — polite, distant. “Aaradhya.”

Her name sounded strange on his lips. Too formal. Too restrained.

“Siddharth,” she replied coolly, tucking the script under her arm.

“You look…” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your directorial debut.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Let’s make it a good one.”

Tanya stepped in like a human shield. “We start with Scene 12. You two don’t have lines until noon. Maybe grab a coffee. Separately.”

Siddharth’s jaw twitched, but he nodded. “Sure. I’ll be around.”

As he walked away, Aaradhya finally exhaled. Her heart was racing, her mind screaming. She wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not for him.

Later that day, while setting up a scene, she caught him laughing with Aditya, their mutual friend and the film’s cinematographer. Aditya had been there through it all — before the fame, the fights, the fallout. And if anyone silently rooted for them to make it through, it was him.

When Aditya caught her staring, he gave her a half-smile — not judgmental, just knowing.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

Aaradhya nodded. But deep down, she wasn’t. Seeing Siddharth had opened something she wasn’t ready to feel again.

Memories blurred with the present. The night he had waited for her outside her old apartment. The way he had yelled when she refused to explain. The text she never sent, the truth she never told.

And now, here they were. Director and actor. Exes pretending to be strangers.

But this time, something felt different. This wasn’t just about completing a film.

This was fate handing them a second shot — whether they deserved it or not.

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