"Dreams don't start perfectly — they start messy, wet, and full of laughter."
The morning of their first official shoot dawned with nervous energy. The campus courtyard was alive with chatter, wires, and caffeine. Rhea triple-checked the camera batteries, Aarav rehearsed lines under his breath, and Kabir tested the boom mic against the wind.
"Everything set?" Aarav called, running a hand through his already-messy hair.
Rhea squinted at the gray sky. "Almost. If the weather holds."
Kabir muttered, "It won't."
As if on cue, a low rumble rolled through the clouds.
They ignored it. They had to. Dreams didn't wait for clear skies.
The first scene was simple — a quiet exchange on the steps. Aarav adjusted his jacket, stepped into frame, and flashed his trademark grin.
"Ready?" Rhea asked, peeking from behind the camera.
"Born ready," he said, then added with a smirk, "But you might want to check the focus. I'm hard to capture."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll survive."
Kabir's voice cut through the chatter. "Sound rolling."
"Camera rolling," Rhea replied.
"Scene one, take one!" Aarav shouted dramatically, earning a laugh from the small crew.
Click. The red light blinked.
And just like that — their first story began.
Two takes in, the wind picked up. Three takes later, the first drops of rain fell.
Rhea groaned. "No, no, no—"
Aarav spread his arms wide. "Come on! It's cinematic!"
"Cinematic doesn't save equipment!" Kabir yelled, rushing to cover the mixer with his jacket.
Within minutes, the drizzle turned into a downpour. Students ran for cover, laughter and curses mixing in the air. The courtyard became chaos — light stands tipping, cables snaking through puddles, makeup melting away.
Rhea's hair clung to her face as she shielded the camera with her body.
Kabir pulled her under a half-broken canopy. "You're going to ruin the lens!"
"I can't stop now!" she shouted over the rain. "Look at him!"
Through the blur, Aarav stood in the storm — water streaming down his face, still acting, still lost in the scene. He didn't break character. Not once.
It was wild. Unscripted. Real.
Rhea's heart pounded as she hit record again. "Keep rolling!" she called. "This is magic!"
By the time the rain finally eased, they were drenched, breathless, and laughing like maniacs.
Kabir shook his head, wringing water from his sleeves. "We look like drowned rats."
Rhea laughed, clutching the camera to her chest. "Drowned artists."
Aarav flopped onto the wet pavement, arms spread wide. "If this film doesn't get us an A, I'm dropping out."
"You won't," Rhea said, grinning.
He looked up at her. "How do you know?"
"Because you love the chaos too much."
Kabir watched the exchange silently, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. For the first time, he saw what made them click — not just talent, but hunger. The kind that burned even through thunder and rain.
Later, in the editing room, the footage played on the screen — Aarav standing in the storm, his expression raw, the raindrops glowing under the dim streetlight.
Rhea whispered, "It's beautiful."
Kabir nodded slowly. "It's real."
Aarav, leaning back with a towel over his head, smirked. "Told you it was cinematic."
They laughed again — tired, soaked, and entirely alive.
For a fleeting moment, the three of them forgot everything else — grades, competition, the world outside. All that existed was their frame, their film, their shared breathless dream.
Rhea lowered her camera and smiled. "Take one," she murmured. "And we already caught lightning."