Kaise yeh yaarian

Part 35

LIVING ROOM – AFTER ADI LEAVES

The door shuts with a dull echo. Adi is gone, but the air feels heavier, suffocating.

Nandini leans against the glass doors, chest still rising and falling from pacing. Her sports bra clings to her skin, the Phoenix tattoo curling at her hip like fire branded on flesh. Cigarette in hand, lighter snapping open-shut, open-shut — each click slicing through silence.

Cabir and Manik are tight with worry, Mukti's jaw is locked, Dhruv restless.

And then—

Alia laughs. Low. Cruel. It cuts like a blade.

ALIA
(mocking, poisonous)
Wow. This is rich. Nandini Murthy — Miss sanskaari behenji — standing here like some tortured rebel. Smoking, flashing skin, flaunting a tattoo.

(beat, smirks venomously)
So what was all that "seedhi-saadhi" act before, huh? Just a mask to get everyone's sympathy? Or maybe this is the new character you're auditioning for — the tragic diva.

Her tone drips with contempt.

ALIA (CONT'D)
(steps closer, eyes narrowing)
Be honest. Which one are you? The boring small-town good girl hiding behind dupattas, or this wannabe bad girl with her cigarette and tattoo? Because to me, it just looks fake.

The room goes tense. Cabir bristles. Mukti's glare sharpens. Dhruv looks away.

Nandini exhales smoke, slow, deliberate. She doesn't flinch. Instead, she takes a step forward, lighter clicking like a warning.

NANDINI
(flat, razor-sharp)
First of all — your "behenji" label? That's yours, not mine.

(beat, stepping closer, voice rising with venom)
I grew up in the U.S. That's my life, my world. If your tiny little head can't wrap itself around that — it's not my f***ing problem.

Her bitter laugh slices through the silence.

NANDINI (CONT'D)
And this?
(gestures at the cigarette, at the tattoo burning on her skin)
This isn't an act. This is me. The parts you'll never understand — because you're too busy choking on your own jealousy.

She flicks the lighter open, flame briefly painting her face in firelight — then snaps it shut.

Mukti leans forward, voice softer, almost reverent.

MUKTI
Can I... see it? The tattoo?

Nandini doesn't step closer. She just shifts slightly, the Phoenix glinting bold at her hip. Rising. Fierce. Untamed.

Mukti stares, lips parting in awe.

Alia falters, her smirk cracking for just a second — enough to show the sting. But she forces her chin higher, face tight with suppressed rage.

The silence stretches — heavy, suffocating.

Click. Open. Shut. Open. Shut. Nandini's lighter sings through the air, a metronome of defiance.

MUSIC ROOM – LATER

The instruments sit ready, but no one touches them. The tension from earlier still hangs, thick and choking.

Cabir, restless, finally speaks up.

CABIR
(flat, practical)
We're not making anything new today. Fine. But let's not waste the time either. That first track we locked in? We all know it's not done. We recorded it, yeah, but it's hollow. Something's missing.