When the Script Fails

CHAPTER 15: The Scene Too Close to Ignore

Meera walked over, concern flickering across her face.

"Farhana, are you okay? I'm so sorry — that was my fault."

"No, I moved wrong," I said quickly.

But Meera wasn't looking at me.

She was looking at Baseer.

And then — slowly — her gaze dropped to where his hand had been on my waist. Understanding dawned in her eyes. Not judgment. Not anger.

Just... realization.

"Oh," she said softly.

My breath hitched.

She knew.

And the worst part?
She didn't even look surprised.

The director called for a short break to fix the blocking again.

Meera walked off with Rohit, leaving the air around me and Baseer thick and unspoken.

He stepped closer.
Too close for comfort.
Too close for denial.

"You could've fallen," he said quietly, voice rougher than before.

"I didn't."

"Because I caught you."
His tone sharpened. "And I will. Every time."

Something in my chest cracked open.

"You can't say things like that," I whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled hard, frustration simmering under the surface. "Farhana, I literally told you—"

"Baseer!"
Meera's voice cut through the moment.

He closed his eyes, jaw tightening.

"Duty calls," I muttered.

He looked at me — the kind of look that made something deep in me unravel.

"This conversation," he said softly, "is nowhere near over."

And when he walked toward Meera, I felt the jealousy rise again — hot, sharp, undeniable.

But this time...

Something was different.

Because now I knew he felt it too.

Baseer's POV

The moment she almost fell, something primal took over.
There was no hesitation.
No thinking.
No acting.

I just moved.

My hand found her waist like it belonged there. Her body hit mine, soft and trembling, and for a second — one perfect, dangerous second — I forgot about the director, the crew, the cameras.

She fit against me like something in the universe finally made sense.

And I didn't want to let go.

Her fingers clutched my shirt reflexively, and I swear I stopped breathing. Every instinct in me screamed to keep her close, hold her tighter, never let her fall — from a stumble, from insecurity, from anything.

But then the director yelled cut, and reality slammed back.

Still... I didn't let go.
Not right away.
I couldn't.

When Meera came over and apologized, her eyes flicked between us — and I knew she understood. Completely. The air shifted with unspoken truths.

Later, when I tried talking to Farhana, she shut down again.
Not cold.
Not distant.

Just overwhelmed.

And I understood.
Because I felt overwhelmed too.

When she whispered, "I don't know what you mean," something inside me twisted painfully.

I wanted to tell her everything.

That I thought about her between takes.
That I kept looking at her even when I wasn't supposed to.
That her jealousy didn't bother me — it made me feel wanted in a way nothing else did.
That she wasn't imagining what was happening.

But Meera called me.

And I saw the flicker of jealousy in Farhana's eyes again.
Sharper this time.
Realer.
Unavoidable.

Good.
She needed to know she wasn't the only one fighting this.

I took one step toward her before leaving.

"This conversation," I told her, voice steady even though my heart was racing, "is nowhere near over."

Because it wasn't.

Because neither of us could pretend anymore.

Because something between us had already begun — and stopping it now felt impossible.