The music outside was loud, the beats vibrating through the floor, but inside Megha's private glass booth, everything was quiet. Peacefully quiet. It was like watching a movie on mute.
And the only thing playing on Megha's one-side transparent screen was her—that girl in the short blue off-shoulder dress, sitting a little awkwardly on the lounge sofa outside. Megha had forgotten all about her wine. It had been in her hand for so long, she couldn't even feel it anymore.
She didn't know how long she had been watching, but she couldn't stop.
That girl—Riva, yes, Riva from the auditions—looked different tonight. In the morning auditions, Riva had walked in wearing a casual kurti and jeans, looking totally at ease—confident, calm, and kind of... charming in a simple way. Megha had noticed her then too, though she'd never admit it out loud.
But this? This version of Riva?
She was in a cute blue frock-like dress, short and clearly new territory for her. She kept tugging at the hem awkwardly, looking uncomfortable—as if it was her first time wearing something like that. But instead of looking embarrassed, she seemed… curious. Like she was experimenting. Bold, in a sweet, nervous kind of way.
"She's uncomfortable," Megha mumbled under her breath, still not looking away. "But hot." Megha didn't even try to lie to herself.
Riva's eyes were wide, soaking in the club lights, the music, the energy. She looked like someone trying very hard to be confident, but too sweet to pull off anything fake.
Riva was seated on one of the plush sofas near the bar, surrounded by four others—two boys and two girls. Megha scanned their faces. Familiar. They were definitely contestants, though she couldn't recall their names.
"She's already made friends?" Megha blinked. That surprised her. The competition had only just started, and Riva had already found her circle?
From her booth, Megha watched. The two boys were busy in their own world—laughing, eating snacks, and drinking like they had no care.
But the real entertainment, from Megha's point of view, was with the three girls. As if they were on a mission.
One girl, who looked like she walked straight off a fashion runway, was dressed in a glittery pink off-shoulder dress and was leaning close to Riva with a mischievous grin, clearly trying to convince her to try a drink. Riva looked hesitant, glancing nervously at the shot glass being pushed toward her.
Before she could decide, the third girl—a quieter one in jeans and a black top with serious eyes and a no-nonsense aura—intervened with a sharp shake of her head. Megha could almost hear her saying, "Don't push her," even from behind the glass.
But the stylish girl was persistent, persuasive in that charming, dramatic way. After a few minutes of back-and-forth and a whole lot of giggles, Riva finally gave in and reached for the shot glass.
Megha leaned forward slightly.
Riva took the shot with a wince and an adorable scrunch of her nose. The group cheered. Not long after, the serious girl was practically bullied into taking one herself—Megha smirked at the sight of her reluctantly giving in, too.
A few moments later, they all got up and headed to the dance floor. Music pulsed through the space. The group began dancing together, laughing and twirling under the lights. Riva and the glittery girl danced the closest, holding hands and laughing.
Megha's eyes narrowed a little. She shifted in her seat. That off feeling returned—soft, uneasy, lingering. But she brushed it aside.
She always felt a little off.
Tonight was no different. Right?
As minutes passed, Megha realized she had been staring at the girl for too long. Too long.
Enough.
With a slight huff, she turned her eyes away and focused back on her wine glass. It was already half-warm, but she took a slow sip anyway. Then, to keep herself more occupied, she picked up her phone and started scrolling aimlessly.
Don't look. Focus. It's none of your business. She's just another contestant.
She told herself again and again.
First minute—she was fine.
Second—her fingers kept pausing on the screen.
Third—her eyes were itching.
But by the fourth minute, she gave up.
She looked up again. Her eyes immediately searched the crowd.
Her eyes flicked back up toward the dance floor. But the girl—Riva—was gone.
Her group of friends was still there, dancing wildly, laughing too loud, looking very drunk. But the one person Megha wanted to see wasn't with them.
She sat up a little straighter, scanning the crowd. Nothing.
A weird tightness grew in her chest. Why am I tense? she scolded herself. She's a stranger. Just a contestant. That's it. But her gut said otherwise. Her eyes kept searching.
But another minute passed. And another.
And Megha stood up.
---
Meanwhile, in the other corner of the club… Riva was definitely lost.
She had no idea where she was.
She had gone to the bathroom, but now she was definitely… somewhere else. The hallway outside looked completely different. Had the lights always been this dim? Why was everything spinning?
She held onto the wall like it was her last lifeline and mumbled softly to herself, "Why is this club bigger than Dehradun's entire mall?"
She looked around, confused. "Am I in Mumbai? Like… really?"
"Did I really pass the audition? Megha Sinha was there… is there… was she real? Did Megha Sinha actually smile at me?"
Then a small, dreamy smile spread across her face.
"She's so pretty in real life. And her voice… like velvet. Sharp velvet. And that stare…" She giggled to herself. "Definitely a dream."
"Or maybe you're just drunk," came a low, dry voice from nearby.
Riva turned, slowly and dramatically, like she was in the middle of a movie scene. Her jaw dropped.
Standing in front of her, looking completely like a dream in the same maroon dress from the audition, was Megha Sinha. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor. Hair loose. Eyes dark and unreadable. Arms crossed.
Riva blinked.
"See?" she whispered with a sleepy smile. "Dream."
"I'm not a dream," Megha said flatly.
Riva's grin only widened. "That's exactly what a dream would say."
Megha rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I was trying to find the dance floor," Riva whispered like it was a secret. "But this club is like a maze."
"Great," Megha said dryly. "You're lost."
"I did go missing," Riva nodded, leaning into her, eyes wide and sparkly. "But then dream-you came to find me. So romantic."
Megha sighed, trying very hard not to react.
"Stop talking. You're going to fall. Come with me."
She reached out and caught Riva by the arm, steadying her. Riva blinked up at her, now fully leaning on her like she belonged there.
"You smell really nice," she murmured.
Megha cleared her throat. "You should stop talking."
Riva hummed as if in agreement, but spoke again. "You're even prettier in real life. And your voice is like… like honey."
Megha didn't reply. Her face remained blank—but her ears turned slightly pink.
She gently guided Riva through the back hallway, carefully avoiding the crowd and unwanted attention. Her steps were steady, her expression composed.
"I still can't believe you judged me today… I was so scared but so happy. You've been my crush since your first song. Your voice felt like magic… and now you're walking beside me. Feels like a dream…"
"You talk too much."
Riva only smiled wider. "Only when I meet my crush."
Megha felt her heart flutter. She glanced at the drunk girl, a small smile tugging at her lips—then quickly looked away.
They finally reached Riva's group, who were still on the dance floor, too distracted and tipsy to notice anything. Megha helped her sit down gently on the sofa where she'd been earlier.
Then, she gave one last look at Riva—who was still smiling like a fool.
"Goodnight, Dream-Megha," Riva mumbled, waving her fingers lazily as Megha turned to leave.
Megha didn't look back. She walked away quickly.
Once back in her private booth, she pulled out her phone and messaged the club manager:
"Mr. Verma, please make sure the group of five with the girl name Riva leave safely."
Then she set her phone aside, picked up her long-forgotten glass of wine, and sat back.
---
After some time...
The city lights blurred softly past the tinted window as Megha leaned her head back against the seat. Her driver took a quiet turn, and the car moved smoothly onto the main road. The hum of traffic outside was distant, calming.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with a small sigh.
Riva's voice echoed in her head—
"You smell really nice."
"You're even prettier in real life."
"Your voice felt like magic…"
Megha let out a quiet laugh through her nose, shaking her head.
"What a ridiculous girl," she murmured, but her lips tugged into a smile anyway.
She caught her reflection in the window—smiling.
"Oh great," she mumbled dryly to herself. "Now I'm the idiot smiling alone in the car."
But the smile didn't fade.
Because somewhere deep down, under all that calm and poise, a little spark had lit up.
And her night didn't feel so dull anymore.