Chapter 2: Shadows in the Office & Old Rivalries

After I fell ill, I withdrew from the film industry. Other than seeing my psychologist, I hardly went out. Old friends stopped calling, and even my phone seemed to know I had nothing left to say—except for Amma’s reminders and the clinic’s automated calls. Outside, Mumbai was alive with honks, hawkers, and the spicy scent of pav bhaji drifting up from the street. But my world was silent, still, like a movie on pause.

One day, I suddenly wanted to see Arjun. After ages, I dressed in a simple cotton kurta, barely ran a comb through my hair, and went to his office in Lower Parel. I felt invisible among the sea of smartly dressed executives, sticky with Mumbai humidity. Standing at the threshold of his cabin, I saw a young woman sprawled on the sofa, her face pale. Arjun handed her a steaming cup of adrak chai, then gently tucked a shawl over her stomach: "Tu itni tabiyat kharab hai toh ek din ki chhutti le le, ghar jaa ke araam kar."

I watched, a heaviness in my chest. The way he fussed over her chai reminded me of our college days, when he’d insist on brewing my tea just right. The ache was sharp, like hearing an old song you once loved.

She took the cup, pushing herself upright, steam fogging her glasses. She smiled, teasing: "Bhaiya, assistant boss ko akela chhod ke gayi toh acchi assistant nahi banungi na."

Her bangles jingled, her cheeks pink. Arjun’s eyes softened, a flicker of helpless affection crossing his face. My stomach twisted. He used to look at me like that.

He shook his head, almost indulgently, the way he once reserved only for me. Then he glanced up and saw me at the door. The smile faded, replaced by surprise, then guilt, then the guarded Arjun—the one who could charm a crowd but never let them in.

I felt dazed, my hands twisting the end of my dupatta as I stared at them. Did everyone see how his eyes shone when he spoke to her? Since my illness, he hadn’t looked at me that way in ages.

He approached: "Meera, tum yahan kaise?"

He tried to take my hand, but I instinctively pulled away. His hand hovered midair, then dropped. The office AC hummed, the peon slowed his steps outside, and I pretended to adjust my dupatta, suddenly self-conscious.

"Didi, yeh surprise inspection hai kya?" the assistant chirped, holding her chai and giving a quick namaste. "Main Priya hoon, St. Xavier’s se graduate. Didi, yaad hai?"

There was recognition in her eyes, a warmth I couldn’t return. Priya... the name echoed. I studied her, matching her to the girl from college—the one with plaited hair and a stack of books.

I remembered: she was once a junior in Arjun’s department, cheerful and lively, always chasing him around campus. Even then, she brought homemade ladoos during exams and offered her notes to everyone. Her crush on Arjun was campus legend—innocent, almost filmi. I had found it sweet then, never guessing how tangled our stories would become.

Back then, I’d already entered films and couldn’t be around all the time. Arjun avoided any hint of scandal, always telling me, "Meera, don’t worry. Sirf tum ho mere liye." I believed him. I pressed his shirts in our little flat, dreaming of our future.

But Priya never believed he had a girlfriend—an invisible girlfriend is like Schrödinger’s cat. Only when I returned to campus did she accept the truth. She was heartbroken, tears in her eyes, asking softly, "Didi, contact add kar loon? Pyaar gaya toh gaya, ab padhai toh karni hai."

She pleaded with Arjun: "Bhaiya, ab toh bas ek classmate ki tarah help kar do na. Department topper ho, kabhi-kabhi academic problem ho jaati hai."

Arjun was curt: "Sorry. Zarurat nahi hai. Academic problem ho toh professor se pooch lo."

He looked at me as if to say, "See? You’re the only one." I felt victorious, walking out hand-in-hand with him, sharing chai at the canteen.

Now, years later, Priya is still the sun—spreading warmth wherever she goes. And I, it seems, have lost all light. I stared at her, laughter ringing in the tense room, and felt the distance—her sunshine, my shadow. I wondered if everyone else could see it too.