▪︎No matter how good the hero is, he is still a villain in someone's story▪︎
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A story of anti-heroes. Two people with a strong dislike for the world learn to thrive together in an arranged marriage.
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A brother with a s...
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"Will you sit straight?" An annoyed sigh greets me right after the annoyed voice.
"I can't sit any straighter than this." I answer back, equally annoyed. This man had done nothing but increase my frustration and then ignore my mere existence as if I am a plague and he doesn't want to be infected.
Vidyut stares at me with a scowl on his face and then back into the camera. "Atleast look like you want to be here." Huh, well that is proving to be a difficult task. Pretending that I come here for a photoshoot. That I came here today, the very next day of my accident and panic attack, so I could look good in pictures.
I did not.
I came here for him. Because as stupid as I am, I like him. And I want him to succeed and win that award and be happy. I want all those things for him. But I also want him to be the way he is with everyone else, infront of me. Here, when it's just us, he turns to a stone, a man who knows nothing but work.
That was not the man I saw beside Veera. No. There, he was a funny guy, a man of many talents as I am sure he still is. There, he was a man that laughs and gets other people to do it to. Here? Here he is just a professional photographer and I am just his model for a photoshoot.
It's my last day of working with him, and I hate every second of it. I do not wish to leave, but staying here is suffocating too. It's sucking the life out of me, to be standing in the same room as him, mere feet apart and yet we couldn't have been farther.
I thought there was something between us, or I hoped there to be something. The shutter of the camera pulls me out of my self reserving thoughts and I see him nod in content. "That was a good shot. Alright then, we are done."
Classic words. Meant for heartbreak.
We are done.
Oh boy, we never even started.
He comes closer to remove the cape that made me look like Henry VIII. My shoulders relax for the first time in two hours. I go to stand up from my stool but my legs give up. They don't support me enough as I almost fall face first into the tiled studio. Almost.
Vidyut holds my arm, pulling me up and balancing me back on the stool I was previously perched on. "Are your legs okay? I saw you wobbling earlier too." He seems genuinely concerned and that irks me. Like little needles it pricks into my back.
"Why do you care?"
His eyebrows shoot up in astonishment, before falling back down in indifference. "That is not the answer to my question. I asked for an answer don't return it with a question." This man is infuriating. I want to grab his neck and kiss him so fucking hard that he forgets all the questions his mind ever made.
"Yes, my legs are fine. Now answer my question."
"I don't care. I am just curious." Indifference. Deflecting what's really there. Huh. "Would you like to hear a story, Vidyut?" He frowns but doesn't object. Well, it wasn't a no, so I start.
