It had been a long and tiring day of auditions at Sur Sangram. All three judges were equally drained. Seeing this, senior singer Rajeev Mishra politely asked for an early pack-up. Being such a respected artist, no one said no. The crew agreed without hesitation.
Rajeev Mishra didn't waste any time once the pack-up was announced. He smiled warmly at the other two judges, gave them a gentle nod in farewell, stepped out, called his driver, and quietly made his way home, carrying his usual calm and graceful presence.
Meanwhile, Zyan Malik, still full of energy, saw Megha and walked up to her.
"There's a celeb party tonight. Do you want to Come with me?" he asked with a hopeful tilt of his head.
"I'm not in the mood for that kind of crowd tonight," Megha said without even looking up as she collected her things.
"Come on, Megha. It'll be fun," he tried again with a smile.
This time Megha looked up. "No," she said firmly. "Not in the mood."
He didn't push further. With a soft shrug and a quiet "Take care," he left.
Megha remained behind, watching the last of the crew wrap up. She checked her phone-it was only 7 PM. Too early. Much too early to go home.
And she had no desire to go home this early. She knew what would be waiting for her-her whole family, or rather, her so-called family, sitting together in the living room. She didn't want to be part of that. If she went now, it would lead to yet another argument. She didn't have the energy for that tonight. Just like always, she preferred to return late and go straight to her room without talking to anyone.
After standing silently for a few more minutes, she took out her phone and called a saved number. The phone was picked up in just one ring.
She didn't even get a word in before a cheerful voice came through the speaker, loud enough to be heard clearly despite the phone not being on loudspeaker.
"Miss Sinha! Finally! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us. The Groove Factory's been missing its star guest!" said Mr. Verma, the club manager, his tone full of excitement but welcoming.
Megha allowed herself a small smile.
"Yes, Mr. Verma. I've been busy with auditions. But I got an early pack-up today."
"That's great! I'll keep your private booth ready with all your favorite drinks and snacks," he said eagerly.
"Thanks, Mr. Verma. I'll be there in thirty."
She ended the call and picked up her stylish overcoat-not just for fashion but also to feel confident-and walked out toward the parking lot, her heels clicking against the concrete. The night air met her skin with a chill, but it felt good. Awake. Quiet. She didn't know what she was heading toward tonight-but at least it wasn't home.
______
After 30 Minutes,
Megha sat alone in her private booth, tucked away in a quiet corner of The Groove Factory. It was one of the most expensive spots in the club-soundproof glass walls, soft velvet furniture, and everything set up just the way she liked it. Mr. Verma, the club manager, always made sure to prepare everything for her-her favorite wine, the perfect room temperature, even the lighting. This was one of the main reasons she kept coming back.
She was stretched out on the comfy sofa, legs crossed, her maroon dress riding just above her knees, fitting her perfectly. Her overcoat was tossed aside, forgotten for the moment. The soft light made her skin glow, and even though her hair was a little messy after the long day, she still looked just like the star everyone saw-elegant, sharp, untouchable.
A glass of red wine sat in her hand, though she hadn't taken a sip in a while. She could hear the bass of the music thumping through the walls, feel the beat under her feet-but it all seemed so far away. The noise, the lights, the life-none of it reached her. Her mind was foggy, like it was wrapped in cotton. Dizzy, numb, detached. It was always like this. She had learned to keep going in a world that admired her strength, even though no one knew about the emptiness inside.
From her spot, she could see the crowd through the tinted glass-people dancing, laughing, living in the moment. And somehow, it always made her wonder. How could they-without the fame, the money, the perfect life-be happier than her?
She watched them with a blank, unreadable look on her face. Not sad, not angry, just... empty.
That was until her eyes landed on someone. A figure in the crowd that caught her attention, though she couldn't quite explain why. Her brows lifted just slightly, and a tiny spark of curiosity replaced the emptiness in her eyes. She blinked once, then again.
For the first time in a long while, Trying to clear the fog -just a little.
The person she had spotted in the crowd was none other than Riva Chandiyal-the same girl from the morning audition.
Megha had taken hundreds of auditions over the past week, yet something about Riva-her face, her energy, even her name-lingered in her mind in a way nothing else had.
Her mind drifted back to that audition. Riva had stared at her as if she were seeing a goddess. Megha had whispered her name-Riva Chandiyal. It was such a unique name-not the kind people easily remember, but once they do, they never forget. She could still hear Riva's voice echoing in her memory-raw, pure, unpolished, yet so real. And that moment when Riva asked for a selfie, the way her face lit up with excitement-Megha could almost feel it herself, the joy and innocence in the girl's eyes.
Without even realizing it, Megha found a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was soft, gentle-like the feeling of a warm breeze on a cold day. Just a simple memory, yet somehow, it made her feel a little lighter inside.