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“I do know songs outside of Hindi. Raawal House used to produce a lot of South Indian movies at that time.”
“It’s by this lady who didn’t find a lot of commercial success. In fact, I think it’s the only film that she sang for.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“Oh, it was my mother’s favorite song. I heard it all the time growing up. She would play it and walk around our house acting out the song. She was very... Do you understand the words?”
He shook his head.
“She’s saying goodbye to someone she loves. Mama always said the best thing we could do for ourselves was to understand what we were feeling. It’s hard to acknowledge our own emotions sometimes. Especially when they make us realize something uncomfortable about ourselves. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
The restlessness within him this last year, this constant need for something more in his life and yet not knowing what the more was...her words suddenly made him understand himself a little better.
She wasn’t aware of him anymore, caught up in whatever put that look in her eyes. “What’s strange?” he asked quietly.
“Even until last year, that song was a big source of comfort to me. I’d play it and go back to those happy times where I trailed behind her through the house. Now, it feels like the song doesn’t have that same sense of comfort and familiarity that I associated with it for so long.
“I feel like I’ve lost her all over again.”
“Maybe it’s just your perception of yourself that’s changing, Ms. Menon. Maybe you simply aren’t that heartbroken little girl anymore. Maybe you’re coming into your own and no longer need the false comfort of an old song,” he said, holding her gaze.
Falling into those beautiful brown depths one word at a time. There was honesty and intelligence and such strength in those eyes. Such heart and heat in them. Just like that, suddenly he knew. In his heart, of all places, which he could truthfully say had never before known anything with such certainty.
Naina Menon was his Dream Girl.
“Are you mocking me?”
He blinked. “Not at all.”
Thoughts and consequences ran through his head like a film on fast forward. What did it mean? Why had she done it? Was he simply supposed to behave as if that night hadn’t happened? Was that what she meant to do? The idea of leaving it up in the air, the idea of just...letting that night remain between them like some fantasy illusion made the hair on his neck stand up. “In fact, this is probably the second most meaningful conversation I’ve had in years.”
Her head jerked up, her eyes searching his face with an intensity that bordered on interest. No, something more. Not fear, no. She wasn’t afraid of him. The last thing he wanted was for Naina to think he’d abuse his power in this, his knowledge of her identity in any way. “Then that sounds incredibly wise.”
“I’m not all perfect good looks,” he said wickedly, wondering if by repeating what she’d said to him that night, he could draw out a confession from her.
“Wow, looks, a sense of humor and a deep understanding of my psyche. I almost want to put your poster up on my wall again.”
“Did you have my poster up on your wall, Ms. Menon?” he asked smoothly.
She blinked and it was all Vikram could do to stop himself from reaching for her.
He tucked his hands behind him to arrest the overwhelming impulse. Damn it, the woman had been playful and funny at the ball and he’d lapped it up. Today, she looked bashful and wary and he still liked her. Whatever facet she revealed of herself, he had a feeling he would appreciate it.
“A long time ago, yes. After your first movie. Most of the heroes were older men for decades and then there was suddenly you, the boy next door, the college student, the idealistic young man. No wonder it launched you into stardom.
“I’m not that schoolgirl anymore. And you’re not perfect hero material, this larger-than-life boy whose broad shoulders could carry every girl’s dreams. You’re...”
Their eyes locked and Vikram had the strangest sensation. As if anticipation was his breath, ballooning up in his chest. Waiting for more words from this woman who seemed to see through him with such unsettling ease. Waiting for more of her devastating insight.
“What am I now, Ms. Menon?”
“You’re...human,” she said simply. “Like the rest of us.”
A lightness filled his entire being and Vikram felt as if he had moved from the shadows into bright sunshine. As if, after living in the harsh, unnatural spotlight of fame all his life, he was suddenly being seen for the very first time.
“Which also means you’re my equal.” He laughed at the relief that poured through him. “Not that it was ever in question.”
A hint of pink crept up her cheeks. He felt like he’d won something for the simple fact of surprising her. “Did I render you mute? Then I guess I’m not as bad with words as Virat would like us all to believe.”
