The studio was covered in soft marigold and white jasmine garlands. Huge bright lights created a constant fake sunshine, casting golden halos over the heavy wedding props. Cameramen in black vests moved carefully through the maze of decorative kalash and rose petals, prepping for the biggest shoot of the season: Roop and Ishika's marriage.
Sidharth stood off to the side in Kabir's costume — a dark cream sherwani, simple but elegant. He watched Shashank and Donal rehearse the varmala scene, the way their eyes lit up with practiced affection, how the director coached them to lean closer.
A dull, throbbing ache settled in his chest, something that was both Kabir's and undeniably his own.
Two months, he thought. And even scripted heartbreak can start to bleed into reality.
"Alright, everyone ready? This is Kabir's major moment," the director called out. "Camera tight on Kabir as he watches Roop and Ishika exchange garlands. I want restrained — no tears, just that small devastation in the eyes."
Sidharth inhaled slowly, settled his shoulders.
Think of every goodbye you've ever given, every person you've let go without telling them everything you felt.
When the camera rolled, he stood behind a swirl of guests, hands clasped at his waist. Roop slipped the garland around Ishika, her bright laugh ringing out. Kabir's mouth twitched into the faintest attempt at a smile, eyes shining with unspoken ache.
"Cut!"
The crew exhaled together. The director approached, patted Sidharth's shoulder. "That's exactly why we brought you on. Even silence is loud with you."
Later, in his small vanity van, Sidharth changed out of the sherwani into a casual black tee and joggers. His phone buzzed.
"Maa ❤️"
He answered with a smile.
"Hey… it must be midnight there."
Her voice was warm, proud.
"I couldn't wait. The export contracts? They've finally cleared. I need you back, Sid. Even if just for a few months. We've grown beyond my hands alone."
A soft sigh escaped him. "So it's time."
"Yes. You've given your dreams a beautiful start. Now help me hold ours together."
He closed his eyes for a moment. Kabir would be leaving the show soon.
It felt like life was mirroring the script — walking away from something tender, unfinished.
That evening, Donal found Sidharth by the prop swing, phone still dangling loosely from his hand.
"You look like a tragic hero even off camera," she teased gently.
He chuckled, eyes crinkling. "Guess I've been rehearsing it daily."
Donal sat beside him, linking her arm through his. Over two months, they'd become inseparable — sharing chai breaks, exchanging Spotify playlists, talking about everything from philosophy to weird set gossip. She'd started calling him "life coach Sid", half mocking, half adoring, for how calmly he untangled her daily confusions.
"So… you're really flying out next week?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. Mom needs me. And maybe I need the distraction."
Donal squeezed his arm. "You know, I actually look up to you. You don't cling to things or people. You just… give what you can and let go. That's so rare."
He glanced sideways, a small sad smile playing at his lips. "Not sure it's wisdom. Sometimes it's just fear. But… thank you."
A week later, under studio lights mimicking dawn, they shot Kabir's temporary exit. In the story, Kabir tells Roop he's leaving to help his mother run their overseas import empire, promising to return someday.
Roop's eyes brimmed with the earnest panic only brothers share.
"Tu jaa raha hai, sach mein?"
Kabir clasped Roop's shoulder, voice steady.
"Roop… life isn't always about who you love most. Sometimes it's about who needs you most. Maa needs me. And… you have everything here. Ishika, family… your dreams. Live them. For both of us."
When the director called cut, Shashank hugged him hard, whispering, "You made this more real than I ever imagined. Going to miss these scenes, man."
Sidharth laughed, thumped his back. "I'll be back. You still need your big brother to save you from Ranveer's drama."
As the studio gates slid past the car window that evening, Sidharth leaned back, hand resting on his phone screen still lit up with a photo of him and Donal laughing mid-joke.
It's not always the people who hold your hand that shape your life the deepest.
Sometimes, it's the ones who let you walk alone so you can grow.
His heart ached, but in a way that promised it would someday beat steadier again.