She stopped but didn't turn.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said.
She laughed once, broken. "You didn't even know you did."
That scared him more than anger would have.
"I don't understand what's happening," he admitted.
She wiped her eyes quickly. "Of course you don't."
She walked away again, slower this time, but resolute.
Ahan stood there, staring after her, a dull ache settling in his chest. He felt responsible without knowing why. Guilty without knowing the charge.
----
The wrap party was held at a hotel banquet hall in Juhu, the kind designed to look festive without committing to intimacy. Soft lighting. Round tables. Music that stayed politely in the background. It felt less like a celebration and more like a pause—an intermission between whatever had just ended and whatever was about to begin.
Ahan arrived late.
He had stayed back at home longer than necessary, changed his shirt twice, considered not coming at all. Eventually, obligation won. That, and the quiet sense that avoiding the room wouldn't make anything simpler.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt it.
The tension wasn't loud. No dramatic confrontations. It sat low and dense, stretched between three people who were very careful not to stand too close to one another.
Amrita Rao stood near one of the tables, talking to a small group from the production team. She smiled when spoken to, nodded at the right moments, but her eyes flicked across the room more often than necessary.
Shenaz Treasurywala was closer to the bar, leaning against it with practiced ease, laughing a little louder than usual, glass untouched in her hand. Every so often, her gaze found Ahan. It didn't linger. That somehow made it worse.
Ahan hovered near the edge, unsure where to place himself.
Even Ken Ghosh noticed.
He stood with a few senior crew members, mid-conversation, but his eyes followed the shifting dynamic with quiet awareness. Ken had seen this before, enough to recognize the shape of it.
Yash Tonk spotted Ahan first.
Yash Tonk approached him with a plate in hand, chewing thoughtfully. "You look like you're waiting for results."
Ahan forced a smile. "I don't like results."
Yash glanced past him, then back. "You know they're waiting for a response, right?"
Ahan frowned. "Response to what?"
Yash stared at him for a second, then laughed. "You can't be serious."
Ahan sighed. "Please don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Assume I understand things I clearly don't."
Yash shook his head slowly, incredulous. "You really are like this."
"Like what?"
"Clueless," Yash said. "Respectfully."
Ahan leaned back against the table, rubbing his temple. "This is exactly why I don't want to get involved in… this."
"This?" Yash prompted.
"Girls," Ahan said flatly. "Feelings. Whatever this situation is."
Yash raised an eyebrow. "Look at your face. You're already involved."
"That's the problem."
"You're supposed to choose," Yash said.
Ahan looked at him. "Between two people?"
"Yes."
Ahan let out a breath. "That's ridiculous."
Yash shrugged. "Welcome."
Before the conversation could continue, Ken tapped his glass lightly with a spoon.
The room quieted.
Ken didn't make speeches often. When he did, they were brief.
"I won't say much," he said. "We've all spent enough time together to know what this project took. I hope the film finds the warmth we put into it."
A polite ripple of applause followed.
The tension eased slightly. Enough for people to be jovial again.
Ahan took the opportunity to step away from the crowd. He hadn't made it far when Shenaz appeared beside him.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
He nodded immediately. "Yes."
They moved toward a quieter corner near the windows. The city lights outside flickered distantly, indifferent.
She didn't waste time.
"Do you have an answer?" she asked.
Ahan exhaled slowly. "I don't know how to say this properly."
Her lips pressed together. For a second, her composure cracked. Her eyes shone, and she looked away quickly, blinking.
"I get it," she said, wiping at the corner of her eye as if it were nothing. "I mean… Amrita is very beautiful."
"That's not—" Ahan started, then stopped. He didn't know how to finish the sentence without making it worse.
She smiled faintly. "You don't have to explain."
"I'm not trying to be careless," he said. "I just… don't process things the same way."
"That," she said, turning to face him fully now, "is going to hurt you in this industry."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because people will read into everything you don't say," Shenaz replied. "And punish you for it."
He absorbed that quietly.
"You shouldn't be this naive," she added, not unkindly.
She stepped back, giving him a small nod. "Good luck, Ahan."
He watched her walk away, posture straight, expression controlled again.
The absence she left behind felt heavier than her presence had.
A few minutes later, he found Amrita near the terrace doors.
She noticed him approaching and stiffened slightly, but didn't move away.
"I wanted to talk," Ahan said.
She nodded. "Okay."
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. For once, he didn't rush.
"I didn't understand what was happening earlier," he said. "But I know I hurt you."
Her gaze softened just a little.
"I didn't mean to," he added. "And I don't want things to end… unclear."
She studied his face. "You're bad at this," she said quietly.
"I know."
"But you're honest," she said. "That helps a bit."
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.