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But that is all in the past. Timira sighs, recalling bits of it but shrugs it off quickly. Looking at the fresh-faced interns, she remembers her own first day at work. She recalls her joy at finding out she’d be reporting to a news anchor she had grown up watching and her glee at discovering she’d get paid a princely sum of five thousand rupees per month as a stipend. She smiles at the eager-looking faces with kindness.

‘Is Chiro bullying you? Whatgyaanare you giving them,haan, Chiro? Look at you, full bossy vibes!’ She laughs throatily while Chiro blushes a little.

‘I was just telling them about you, actually. About your famous line! Guys, what did I just teach you? What should you tell your talent?’

‘Ten times a day for ten days. If you tell yourself that you are a star, then on the eleventh day a star will be born,’ the group of greenhorns chimes in chorus.

‘Bravo!’ Timira giggles and applauds lightly. When a big Hollywood film with the same name had come out, she had been fully convinced that the writers had pulled anInceptionon her, but let it slide…‘Only for Bradley Cooper, Alice.Varna pucca sue karti,’ she had proudly proclaimed.

Feeling the most confident she has all morning, Timira tucks her hair behind her ears and slaps her hip dips a couple of times.

I can do this! Bring it on!

In giant strides, she walks on to the floor, hair neatly gelled and slicked back, pants ironed straight, shirt crisp and her gait oozing tenacity. She smoothens the Peter Pan collar of her silken poplin shirt and stops dead in her tracks.

Oh, crap! He got me this shirt. Great start, Timira! FFS, what is wrong with me?!

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* * *

They are nearly through with the day’s work, having stuck to the script under Timira’s watchful eyes and in her iron grip. Rodrigo has, to Timira’s relief and surprise, avoided her throughout. He has been lavishing his attention on the stylist they had hired at his request.

Ugh, look at him go. Good riddance. Why did I even think he’d be anything but this? This is who he is. God, I’m such an idiot for ignoring all those red flags. Gadhi hoon! No wonder they call me a jerk magnet.

But she feels uneasy. As though something were stuck near her heart and hindering her breathing.

‘Tim, you’re going to have to explain this bit to him, okay?’ instructs the producer.

Timira doesn’t respond. So the producer has to raise her voice and repeat herself.

‘Timira, it’s this highlighted bit. Just these couple of lines,’ pointing at a little green-coloured section on an A4 sheet.

When Timira still doesn’t acknowledge her, she has to snap her fingers in front of Timira’s eyes.

‘Yo! Timira! Where are you lost?’

This time, Timira jumps out of her skin like she’s seen a ghost.

‘Whoa! Yes, I mean, not lost. I’m here, tell me!’

Pointing at the sheet again, the sprightly but exhausted producer tells Timira which part has to be explained to Rodrigo.

‘But this wasn’t in the script!’ Timira’s high-pitched voice sounds accusatory.

‘I know, I know. I’m sorry, but the client had a last-minute “suggestion”.’

‘And who approved this? Don’t let clients bully you, okay? I’ll go speak with them, wait!’

But the producer, dressed like a special-ops commando, hisses into the walkie she’s been carrying around like a trophy, and in a flash stops Timira, who has walked only a step towards the clients, a group of three girls in their twenties huddled together in front of a monitor, whispering amongst themselves and blushing in unison.

Grabbing her wrist, she pulls Timira back.

‘Abbe oye, I could’ve fallen!Kya hai, why are you stopping me?’

‘You might want to give the boss a call. The approval has come from him.’