The audition room was quiet now. Just the whirring of the projector and the soft clicking sound as the footage played.

Ayaan slouched in the chair, legs stretched out, jaw tense. Another rejection. Another “not what we’re looking for.”

The director shut his laptop with a sigh. “That was the last one, Ayaan. We’ll just go with someone from the shortlist.”

He barely heard him. His eyes were glued to the frozen frame on the monitor — the last girl. Hair loose, eyes alive with something raw, something unpolished. She had fumbled a line, yes, but there was… truth in it.

“Who is she?” he asked, leaning forward.

The director shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not trained. No screen presence. Let it go.”

“Let it go?” Ayaan’s voice sharpened. “You keep saying you want fresh… this is it. She’s fresh. She’s real.”

“Ayaan—”

“Call her back.”

“I said no.”

He clenched his jaw, forcing a polite smile. “Fine. Don’t. I’ll find her myself.”

It took days. Calling casting assistants, asking crew, even scrolling through hundreds of Instagram tags from the audition venue. And then he saw it — a blurry picture of the sea. The caption had the same handwriting as the notes she’d held in the audition clip.

The next afternoon, he found himself at Juhu Beach, the salty wind tangling his hair.

And there she was.

Sitting cross-legged in the sand, notebook balanced on her knees, pen moving in quick, messy strokes. No makeup. No camera. Just you — and you were somehow more captivating than the screen had shown.

For a second, he forgot why he was there.

He almost turned away, suddenly feeling absurd. Ayaan Pandey, son of one of Bollywood’s biggest superstars, nervous to talk to a stranger.

But he stepped closer anyway.

“Hey,” he called, voice careful.

You looked up, brows furrowing.

He crouched down so you were eye level. “I saw your audition. And I think… you’re exactly what this film needs.”

Your lips parted slightly, the wind tugging at your hair.

“The director won’t call you back,” he said bluntly. “So I’m asking you, myself — will you come? One more audition. No promises, but…” He hesitated, then smiled faintly. “I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”