Not in the Script: An Ahaan & Aneet Collection

Start Of Something New

Hi everyone!

So this piece is inspired by the interview where Mohit Suri talked about Aneet's audition, and yes, that infamous yellow dress moment. I also pulled some context from Aneet's THR interview, which hinted at just how high the stakes were for her that day, how she messed up because of her nerves and what role Ahaan played.

Of course, we'll probably never know exactly what happened behind those studio doors, what words were exchanged, or how she really felt walking out. But here's my little reimagining of how it might have played out, messy, emotional, and maybe just a little bit chaotic.

Hope it gives you all the feels.
Happy reading! 

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The YRF rehearsal studio looked the same as it always did, minimal, white-walled, the faint hum of the AC in the background. But today, it felt... heavier. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Aneet stood just inside the doorway, pretending to check her phone while mentally calculating how many seconds she had before it was her turn. She wasn't usually like this. In fact, she hated being like this—hesitant, twitchy, hands clammy.

But today was different.

This was Saiyaara.

And this wasn't another workshop. This was the audition.

She'd submitted tapes. Done prep. She knew the character. Hell, she could recite Vaani's monologue backwards at this point. She'd spent all night rehearsing, whispering lines to her reflection, fixing her hair, picking out the perfect outfit. She'd worn a bright yellow dress. It was cute. Playful. Bright.

She glanced across the room, across the unfamiliar faces until her gaze landed on Ahaan. Ahaan Panday.

Of course. Of course he was already here.

He was leaning casually against the side wall, half-listening to a production assistant, his grin easy and familiar. Effortless, like the space already belonged to him, which it sort of did. He was Krish. Already cast. Already carrying the promise of a launch film most actors would kill for.

She'd known him for a few months now. Workshops, table reads, scene practices. Enough to know he wasn't intimidating in the usual, industry-kid way. If anything, he was unexpectedly generous with scene partners. He listened and noticed. He accepted criticism and worked on himself to improved. He'd once leaned over during a break and told her, half-smiling, "You've got that IT factor you know."

She hadn't known what to say. So she'd laughed it off.

"Aneet, you're up."

The words struck like a bell. She blinked, nodded, and forced her legs to move forward.

The mark waited for her in the centre of the room. A single X on faded carpet, daring her to prove she belonged here.

She stepped in. Faced the camera. Lights glared down. Her mouth went dry.

Mohit nodded, brows risen just slightly. Not rude. Not dismissive. Just... questioning. And that was worse. He was kind enough to sit through her rushed introduction, but Aneet saw the confusion flicker when she nervously explained why she'd chosen this costume. It wasn't the one expected. She'd misunderstood.

She opened her mouth once more and nothing came out right.

The first line was rushed. The second too high-pitched. On the third, she fumbled and her brain blanked. She tried to laugh it off, circle back, salvage, but the moment was already slipping through her fingers.