I slept deeply-the kind of sleep that drags the mind into strange, tangled places.
When I woke later, only fragments of my dreams remained, disconnected flashes that refused to settle.
In one, I was dancing with Akansha. I was myself again-solid and familiar-dressed in a sharp, dapper suit. The music was slow, elegant. Normal.
Then Akansha's face blurred and shifted, her features stretching and reforming until Rahul stood in her place. The two of us continued dancing seamlessly, two men in suits, hands clasped, the transition feeling oddly comical.
The scene changed again.
I was no longer in a suit. I was wearing the shimmering dress from the Bollywood party-the same one that had clung to my borrowed curves, the same one that had made strangers look at me twice. I felt lighter, softer, different.
We continued dancing, me and Rahul, and the image seemed oddly natural.
Then Rahul leaned in.
Too close.
Our lips were about to meet.
I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my body slick with cold sweat, my heart hammering as if I'd been running.
What was that? I thought, horrified.
Bright sunlight streamed through the curtains, cutting harsh lines across the room. It was late morning.
For a few seconds, I lay still, breathing hard, trying to shake off the lingering unease. The dream clung to me-not in images anymore, but in feeling: confusion, warmth, fear, and something disturbing.
From nearby came the familiar clacking of keys.
Zahir was already awake, seated at his desk, hunched over his laptop, headphones resting around his neck.
"Dude," Zahir said without turning around, "I kept an omelette for you in the kitchen. There's milk too-make coffee."
I nodded mutely and shuffled to the kitchen.
I ate mechanically, barely tasting the food, the dream replaying itself in flashes whenever my mind wandered. I made coffee and drank it slowly, grounding myself in the bitterness.
By the time I finished, the haze had lifted enough for irritation to replace it.
I pulled out my phone and dialled Jyotsna.
She answered after a few rings.
"I'm on the way back from Pune," she said before I could say much. "Traffic's horrible. I'll call you once I reach my parlour."
I shut my eyes in frustration.
"Fine," I muttered, disconnecting.
This meant more waiting.
I switched on the television, letting the noise fill the flat. The news channel was already in its entertainment segment.
The anchor smiled brightly.
"Some news from the film industry-Vijayendra Khatri-backed director Raunak Sharma's upcoming project starring Kabir Khan and Sameera has been officially announced. Sources say an announcement function will be held soon, with both stars expected to attend."
I stared at the screen.
So Sameera would soon be back. Good for her. Good for Aarav.
Not my headache.
I snorted softly and switched off the TV.
I stretched out on the couch, eyes half-closed, letting the hours slide by in a dull haze.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then repeatedly-sharp and insistent.
Zahir frowned and stood up. "Who the hell-"
He opened the door.
Before either of us could react, several men pushed their way inside roughly, their presence instantly sucking the air out of the room.
They were unmistakable-thick necks, hard eyes, cheap shirts stretched over solid frames. I recognised them clearly from yesterday. Bhai's men.
I froze on the couch, fear rising like ice water in my veins.
Zahir stumbled back in shock.
One of the men glanced around the flat-and then his gaze locked onto me.
"Well, well," he grinned. "Look who it is. Same girl from yesterday. That bastard's apartment... his sister, right?"
The men chuckled.
They stepped closer.
"Hey, cutie," one of them said lazily. "You're here too? What is this-your boyfriend's place?"
Zahir stepped forward instinctively. "What do you want? Get out-"
A fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He doubled over with a gasp.
"Where's your friend?" one of the men snapped. "Where's Sameer?"
Another man's eyes flicked back to me. A slow, ugly smile spread across his face.
"Why bother bashing the friend," he said casually, "when we've got his sister?"
"Yes," another chimed in, laughing. "Let's take her along. Her brother will come running with the money then. Or..." He shrugged. "We'll get it out of her some other way."
They advanced toward me.
My throat closed.
"Wait-" I stammered. "Sameer Bhaiya had called. He said he'll repay everything within a month."
The men laughed openly.
"Enough of your brother's lies," one of them sneered. "We'll sell you off. That'll fetch more than our money."
"Wait!" I blurted desperately. "He's not lying. He already sent some money. Five lakhs as an instalment."
I turned sharply. "Zahir-bring the money."
Zahir, shaken and pale, scrambled to the bedroom and returned with the bag I had brought to the flat yesterday-the earlier five lakhs Aarav had given him. He thrust it forward with trembling hands.
One of the men opened it, peeked inside, then nodded.
"Fine," he said. "We're leaving-for now."
He leaned in close to me, his voice dropping.
"But tell Sameer to send the remaining fifty lakhs within a month. Or else."
My eyes widened. "Fifty? The loan was only forty lakhs."
The man smiled-a slow, wicked smile.
"Cutie," he said softly. "Forty lakhs was the loan. Twenty lakhs is interest. Sameer has paid ten now. Fifty remaining."
He tilted his head.
"Understand now? Or should we pay a visit to your mother next?"
With that, they turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind them.
Silence crashed down on the flat.
I sank onto the couch, my legs giving way, my head dropping into my hands as my body began to shake.
How does this nightmare end?
---
I sat slumped on the couch for a very long time, staring at nothing, my mood dark and heavy. My mind kept circling the same terrifying questions.
How had Bhai's men found Zahir?
How had they traced his mother's address?
The realization settled slowly, chilling me to the bone-it wasn't safe anymore. Not here. Not anywhere familiar. The damned goons knew too much. They always did.
Across the room, Zahir sat at his desk, his laptop open but untouched. He had tried going back to work after the men left, but his hands trembled uncontrollably on the keyboard. After a few futile minutes, he had simply closed the laptop and stared at the wall.
I felt a sharp pang of guilt.
This was my mess. And Zahir had been dragged into it for no fault of his own.
No, I couldn't burden his friend any more.
Just then, my phone rang.
Jyotsna.
"I've reached the parlour," she said briskly, sounding tired and irritable. "You can come now."
I exhaled slowly.
Good. At least this farce could finally end. At least I could go back to being himself.
But the thought brought no comfort.
Was being myself safe anymore?
In this female disguise, Bhai's men hadn't recognised me. To them, I was just a frightened sister-collateral damage. Once I became Sameer again, there would be no hiding.
I would have to leave the city. Soon.
And the fifty lakhs?
How was I supposed to arrange that kind of money in a month?
What if the goons came after my mother? Or Zahir, if I disappeared?
The questions buzzed relentlessly in my head.
I stood up abruptly and turned to Zahir.
"Jyotsna's back," I said quietly. "I'll go and get these off." I gestured awkwardly at the fake breasts strapped to my chest.
Zahir nodded faintly. He still hadn't said much since the incident, his shock lingering like a bruise that hadn't yet surfaced.
Just then, my phone rang again.
Aarav.
"Hi, Sam," Aarav's voice came through, hesitant.
"Yes, Aarav?" I replied, already wary.
There was a brief pause before Aarav spoke again. "I... uh... can I meet you? I need to talk. In person."
I frowned. Sameera was supposed to be on her way back, wasn't she?
"Okay," I said cautiously. "But I'm not at my place. I'm at my friend Zahir's flat."
"That's fine," Aarav replied quickly. "Send me the location. I'll be there shortly."
I leaned back on the couch, my head resting against the cushion. Whatever this was, it sounded urgent.
To my surprise, Aarav arrived quickly.
He stepped into the flat, his gaze immediately landing on me. His eyebrows lifted.
"You still haven't removed the get-up?"
"I was about to," I said stiffly. "Jyotsna was out of town. She uses some really sticky glue for these fake boobs. Needs a special solution to remove."
Aarav smiled faintly. There was a flicker of something-mischief, perhaps-in his eyes, and it irritated me instantly.
"So," I asked flatly, "what is it you wanted to meet me about?"
Aarav shifted uncomfortably. "I... I need a small favour from you. Again."
My eyes narrowed. "A favour? What favour? Sameera's coming back soon, isn't she?"
"Yes-yes, she is," Aarav said hurriedly. "It's just that VK wants to announce the Raunak Sharma film at a small event tomorrow. And Sameera won't be back by then."
I understood immediately.
"So ask VK to postpone it," I said. "Make an excuse."
"I tried," Aarav admitted. "But some paparazzi were outside our building yesterday. They were hoping to click Sameera. When she didn't come in or go out, I don't know how, but VK found out. He got suspicious. He's insisting the announcement happen tomorrow."
"Then get Sameera here," I snapped. "Book a non-stop flight. Anything."
"She can't," Aarav said softly. "Not by tomorrow."
I stared at him.
"So... you want me to stand in for her again."
Aarav hesitated just a fraction too long.
My unease sharpened. "Are you telling me the whole truth, Aarav?" I asked quietly. "Did you really find her?"
"Yes," Aarav said quickly. "Yes, I did. She's just... taking her time. Says she'll come back in a few days."
"Let me talk to her," I said.
Aarav looked uncertain. "I don't know if she'll do that. But I'll try."
He dialled a number. "Rodriguez? Can you ask Sameera to call me back? Her brother wants to speak to her."
Lowering the phone, he added, "Rodriguez is my guy there. He's staying at the same hotel as Sameera."
After a short while, Aarav's phone rang again. He spoke briefly, then handed it to me.
"Hey, Sam," Sameera's voice came through.
"Hey, Sami," I replied.
"How's Mom?" she asked.
"She's fine," I said.
An awkward silence followed. Things had never been easy between us. We rarely spoke, and when we did, it was always strained.
"So... when are you coming back?" I asked finally. "Your industry people are waiting."
There was a pause.
Then Sameera replied, "In a few days. I had a nose job and a few other minor things done. But they botched it the first time. I'm scheduled for corrective surgery in a couple of days."
I closed my eyes briefly.
So that was the truth.
After another pause, she continued, "Aarav told me you stood in for me earlier. Thanks, Sam. If you can do it again-if needed-I'd really appreciate it."
That was unlike her. Completely.
She must really be in serious trouble to request me like that.
"Okay, Sami," I said. "Take care. I'll see what I can do."
I handed the phone back to Aarav.
Aarav stepped aside and spoke quietly on the phone for a while before disconnecting.
"You could've told me the truth," I told him.
"That wasn't my truth to tell," Aarav replied softly. "If news of the botched plastic surgery comes out, her career would be finished."
I studied Aarav's face. He thought he could see the worry etched there.
"How long do you think she'll take?" I asked.
"Two to three weeks," Aarav said. "Maybe less. Maybe more."
Mu mind began working rapidly.
In my own precarious situation-and Sameera's- I saw a possible solution.
"Tomorrow's event won't be a one-off thing, right?" I said slowly. "There'll be more."
Aarav nodded. "Maybe. Script readings. Publicity appearances. Some closed-door events."
I sat straighter. "I'll help you. And Sami. But it'll cost you."
Aarav raised his hands. "I can't give you ten lakhs per event again. That was a one-time thing."
"Five lakhs per event," I said calmly. "And I stay at your place."
Aarav shook his head. "Five is too much. And you can't stay at my house-the paparazzi are always around."
He paused. "Maybe you could stay as Sameera, though."
I laughed, sharp and humourless. "Of course that would benefit you, wouldn't it? Takes the pressure of the paps off you."
I thought for a moment. "Fine. Three lakhs per event. And ten thousand per day I stay at your house."
Aarav laughed dryly. "You were always good at making money."
He considered it. "Two and a half lakhs per event. And fifty thousand per week you stay as Sameera."
He smirked. "You might be the first paying guest who actually gets paid to stay."
I leaned back, trying to make my expressions unreadable.
If only Aarav knew the soup I was really in. And why I had willingly accepted the humiliation of living as Sameera, as a woman in Aarav's house, for three more weeks.
------
That's the end of Chapter 8. Do let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Comment freely. Drop a like if you enjoyed reading it.
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