Wounds of the Heart (दिल के घाव)💔

59

Days bled into one another, each one a slow tick towards a future yet unwritten. In her cozy apartment, Niya buzzed with nervous excitement. Today was the interview for the modeling job Laksh had connected her with – a potential turning point in her career.

She meticulously applied makeup, her reflection in the mirror a picture of determination. Suddenly, the apartment door swung open, and Twinkle sauntered in, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Niya, darling!" she chirped, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "There you are! I just dropped by to see how –"

Niya spun around, a frown creasing her forehead. "Twinkle? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought I'd check in," Twinkle continued, her playful demeanor faltering slightly under Niya's stern gaze. "But seeing you all dolled up, is this some special occasion I wasn't informed about?"

Niya sighed, the frustration bubbling back up. "Didn't I tell you about the interview?"

Twinkle's eyes widened in realization. "Oh! The modeling thing? I thought you were just joking!" she exclaimed, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. "Seriously, Niya, you should have told me. I would have helped you pick out an outfit!"

Niya rolled her eyes, her initial annoyance melting away at Twinkle's genuine enthusiasm. "It's okay," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I think I can manage on my own."

Twinkle, sensing the shift in mood, placed a hand on Niya's shoulder, her voice softening. "Look, Niya," she began, "I know we haven't seen eye to eye lately. But I want you to know that I support your dreams. You're an amazing model, and you deserve this chance."

Niya's heart warmed at Twinkle's words. The argument from the other night had cast a shadow over their relationship, but Twinkle's apology, her unwavering support, offered a glimmer of hope for reconciliation.

"Thank you, Twinkle," Niya said, her voice sincere. "That means a lot to me."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a silent understanding blooming in the air. Perhaps, Niya thought, this could be a new beginning – a chance to rebuild their relationship on a foundation of mutual respect and shared dreams. With a deep breath, she grabbed her purse, a newfound confidence radiating from her. Today was not just about the interview; it was about reclaiming her voice, her dreams, and maybe, just maybe, the strength of their bond.

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Later that evening, after the last interview and a whirlwind of fan interactions, Manik and Rohit finally found themselves back at their hotel. Manik, exhausted but exhilarated from the day's events, collapsed onto the plush couch.

"That was insane, Ro!" he exclaimed, a wide grin splitting his face. "The crowd here in London is incredible."

Rohit chuckled, tossing a bottle of water towards Manik, who caught it clumsily. "Yeah, they definitely brought the energy tonight." He plopped down on the armchair opposite Manik, his gaze flickering towards the phone lying on the coffee table.

A mischievous glint entered his eyes. "Speaking of energy," he began, his voice dripping with amusement, "did you see the… floral arrangement waiting for us back at the venue?"

Manik's brow furrowed in confusion. "Floral arrangement? What are you talking about?"

Rohit reached for his phone, swiping through his photos until he found the one he was looking for. He tossed his phone towards Manik, who fumbled to catch it again.

The image that filled the screen was a close-up of the extravagant flower bouquet, a vibrant explosion of colors against the backdrop of the green room. Manik stared at it for a moment, his initial confusion morphing into recognition.

"Oh," he drawled, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Right. That."

"Any idea who sent it?" Rohit prodded, unable to contain a smirk.

Manik shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably some overzealous fan, I guess."

Rohit snorted. "An overzealous fan with a serious budget, more like it."

Manik rolled his eyes playfully. "Come on, Ro, don't be mean. Maybe they just really like our music."

Rohit knew better, but he decided to play along for a bit. "Sure, sure," he conceded with a mock-serious expression. "Let's just say their taste in music is impeccable."

He then launched into a dramatic retelling of Mr. Rathor's past attempts to gain Manik's attention, embellishing each story with a flourish. Manik, despite himself, found himself laughing along, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in.

A mischievous glint sparked in Rohit's eyes. "Exactly! Besides, who knows? Maybe this Mr. Rathor will get the hint and finally back off."

Manik snorted with laughter. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll send us a private jet next time."

As their laughter subsided, a comfortable silence settled between them. Manik, his earlier exhaustion replaced by a thoughtful expression, spoke up.

"You know, Ro," he began, his voice laced with a hint of seriousness, "sometimes I wonder if all this fame is worth it."

Rohit leaned forward, his gaze fixed on his friend. "What do you mean?"

Manik sighed. "All these people showering us with gifts, the constant attention… it feels a bit suffocating at times. I just miss the simpler days, when we played music for the love of it, not for the validation."

Rohit reached out and placed a hand on Manik's shoulder, offering a silent gesture of support. "I know what you mean, buddy," he said empathetically. "But fame comes with a price. The good, the bad, and the downright bizarre."

He paused for a moment, then continued, his voice firm but reassuring. "But here's the thing, Manik. You get to choose how you react to it all. You don't have to let it change who you are at your core. We still write the music, we still perform our hearts out on stage. That's what truly matters."

Manik met Rohit's gaze, a flicker of determination replacing the earlier doubt. "You're right," he said, a resolute nod accompanying his words. "We can't control the actions of others, but we can control how we respond. We'll keep making the music we love, and the genuine fans will connect with it. That's all that matters."

A newfound sense of purpose settled over them. The extravagant flower bouquet might have been a nuisance, but it also served as a reminder of the price of fame. But as long as they had each other, their shared passion for music, and the unwavering support of their true fans, they were determined to navigate the world of fame on their own terms.

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