LIGHTS, LOVE AND WAR

Therapy or Bust

Chapter 12: Therapy or Bust

Production on the film had officially hit another brick wall. Cameras were idle, the crew on standby, and tensions flared behind the scenes. The project was teetering on the edge of collapse, thanks to Aryan Kapoor and Selena Reed's chaotic dynamic. Something had to be done.

Which was why Aryan and Selena now sat-stiff, silent, and glaring daggers-inside Paul Sheppard's producer's office, flanked by their furious director, Ravi Mehta.

"Explain to me how we're supposed to shoot this damn movie," Ravi snapped, pacing the room, "if the two of you can't even last five minutes without going at each other's throats?"

Aryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, radiating defiance. "She started it."

Selena rolled her eyes. "Of course I did. Because you're a saint, right?"

"Enough!" Paul barked, slamming a folder onto his desk. His normally easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by frustration. The American producer, known for saving troubled productions, was running out of patience. "This is the biggest project of both your careers. You screw this up, and not even your agents will be able to save you."

Ravi pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "I begged for two legends to carry this film. Instead, I get... this circus."

Selena huffed, muttering under her breath. "I'd rather do a rom-com with a C-list actor than sit through this nonsense."

Aryan smirked. "That can be arranged."

Paul shot them both a hard look. "Enough." His voice was sharp. "Let me be very clear: If you two can't figure this out-now-the film is done. No more delays. No more tantrums."

Aryan's jaw clenched, his cocky demeanor momentarily cracking. He knew the stakes. Selena, too, glanced away, chewing the inside of her cheek. As much as they hated each other, they couldn't afford to walk away from the film.

Paul's voice dropped, all business now. "We're going to try something different: couples' counseling. Consider it a PR stunt. The studio thinks it'll calm the media frenzy and reassure the investors. You'll attend sessions, pretend to work through your issues, and convince the public that you can still make movie magic."

Aryan blinked. "You want us to see a therapist... together?"

Ravi threw his hands up. "It's either that or kiss this movie goodbye."

Selena crossed her arms. "This is ridiculous."

"Welcome to Hollywood," Paul deadpanned.

After a long, tense silence, Aryan exhaled loudly. "Fine."

Selena scowled but eventually muttered, "Fine."

Paul smiled tightly. "Good. Your first session is tomorrow. Don't make me regret this."

---

Session One: Let the Sarcasm Begin

The next day, Aryan and Selena found themselves sitting awkwardly in a cozy therapy room. The walls were painted a soft cream, and plush chairs surrounded a small table stacked with tissue boxes. Sitting across from them was Madame Colette Dubois, an elegant French woman with a warm smile and an accent that could charm anyone-except Aryan and Selena.

"Welcome," Colette greeted, her voice melodic. "I understand zis is... a rather unconventional arrangement, yes?"

Aryan leaned back, arms folded. "You could say that."