I sat at the dining table for a long time after Aarav's call ended, staring absently at the untouched omelette in front of me.
My mind refused to settle.
Aarav had advised me to disappear. To leave the city quietly before VK learned the truth.
But if I left like that... wouldn't it mean leaving Aarav alone to face the storm?
He would be the one standing in front of VK explaining everything.
The thought sat uneasily with me.
I rubbed my forehead slowly.
If I remained here, what could I tell VK?
I could explain to him my circumstances, the financial difficulties because of which I had agreed to play Sameera.
I could offer to complete the films. If the films needed Sameera, I could continue pretending to be her.
I remembered my day yesterday at the studio while finalizing the "look" for the movie. I had carried it off well. Even the director had appreciated it.
But even as the thought formed, I knew how ridiculous it was.
Aarav was right.
There was no way such a deception could survive a full film shoot.
Photo sessions and public appearances were one thing. But films meant long shooting schedules, makeup rooms, costume changes, rehearsals, dance practices... dozens of people around all the time.
The makeup artists.
The costume assistants.
The hair stylists.
And especially the hero of the film.
There would be close scenes. Costumes that showed cleavage and skin. Romantic shots. Dance sequences. Physical proximity that would expose the truth within hours.
The secret would explode before the first schedule was even complete.
No.
That path was impossible.
Maybe Aarav was right after all. Maybe it would be better if he explained everything to VK himself. After all, no harm had been intended. I had only been filling in for Sameera until she recovered from surgery.
Convinced slightly by that reasoning, I finally pushed the plate away and leaned back in my chair.
It was time to plan my exit.
One thing was immediately clear.
To leave the country-or even the city-I would first have to go back to being Sam.
My passport and all my documents identified me as Sam. Travelling as Sameera with those documents would be impossible.
And even apart from the documents, moving around publicly as Sameera would attract far too much attention.
Airports, ticket counters, security checks... it would be madness.
Getting back to being Sam meant removing everything.
The hair extensions.
The glued breast forms.
The padding.
All the layers that had slowly transformed me into Sameera.
I could try doing it myself at home, of course.
But Jyotsna had created this entire transformation. She would know exactly how to undo it properly-how to make me look like Sam again.
I took out my phone and dialled her number.
She answered after a few rings.
"Dahling," she said in her usual theatrical tone, "I am busy right now. We can meet after lunch, say around 3 p.m. Is that okay?"
For a second I considered insisting that it was urgent.
But then I checked the time.
It was still morning. Aarav had said he would return only tomorrow.
"Fine," I said. "3 p.m."
"Perfect," she replied cheerfully. "I'll call you once I'm free."
The call ended.
I sat quietly for a moment, thinking.
Then I opened the flight booking app on my phone and searched for flights.
Hyderabad seemed like the safest option. I had lived there some time ago, and I knew my way around the city. I could disappear easily for a few days.
A list of flights appeared on the screen.
There it was.
An evening flight at 8:30 p.m.
Perfect.
I booked it immediately.
Once the confirmation message arrived, I dialled Zahir.
He answered almost instantly.
I quickly told him about the morning's developments.
About Sameera's death.
About Aarav's call.
About the danger of VK discovering the truth.
There was a stunned silence on the line for a moment.
Then Zahir let out a low whistle.
"Gosh, man," he said. "What a disaster."
"Yeah," I replied tiredly. "Aarav advised me to disappear before the situation gets worse."
Zahir snorted softly.
"I don't trust that man," he said. "But for once he's giving you the correct advice."
"Hmmm," I said.
"I've booked a flight to Hyderabad for the evening. 8:30 p.m."
"Good," Zahir said.
"I'll come to your apartment around noon," I continued. "Then I'll go to Jyotsna's parlour at around 3 p.m. Once she removes... this stuff," I told him, "...I'll go directly to the airport."
There was a short pause.
"Now here's what I need you to do," I added.
I explained the rest of the plan to him.
Zahir listened carefully.
When I finished, he chuckled.
"Good plan," he said approvingly.
A short while before noon, I called the driver and asked him to bring the car around.
"I need to go to the film studio," I told him casually.
The drive across the city felt strangely unreal. My heart beat faster than usual.
Traffic roared around us as it did every day. Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks. The world moved normally, completely unaware that my life had just been thrown into chaos.
When we reached the studio compound where I had attended the look session the previous day, I stepped out of the car.
"Go back home," I told the driver. "I'll be late here. I'll call you once I'm done."
He nodded and drove away.
As soon as the car disappeared through the gate, I began scanning the area.
Zahir.
I had asked him to meet me here.
A moment later I spotted him standing near a corner of the parking lot, pretending to check his phone.
When he saw me, he walked over quickly.
"Did you bring the things I asked you to?" I asked quietly.
Without a word he handed me a plastic bag.
I glanced around.
There were a few people nearby, but no one was paying attention.
Good.
I had dressed carefully before leaving the house - a pair of fitted dark blue jeans, a soft white silk blouse, and slim beige heels. Large sunglasses hid half my face, and my long hair fell neatly over my shoulders.
The outfit was simple but stylish, the kind Sameera often wore when stepping out casually in the city.
I opened the bag.
Inside was the black burkha (a loose full-body veil worn by some Muslim women in public) that I had asked him to bring.
Perfect.
I quickly slipped it over the dress I was wearing, pulling the loose fabric around me and covering my head.
The transformation was immediate.
The glamorous actress Sameera vanished.
In her place stood just another anonymous woman hidden behind a black veil.
Zahir stepped back and looked at me.
Then he burst out laughing.
"MashaAllah, Mohtarma," he said with mock admiration.
(MashaAllah (an Arabic expression used to show admiration or appreciation)
Mohtarma (a polite Urdu form of address meaning 'madam'))
Despite everything, I couldn't help smiling.
"Come, janaab (a respectful Urdu word for 'sir')," I replied lightly, giving him a playful aadab (a traditional South Asian Muslim greeting made with a slight bow and the hand raised to the forehead).
Zahir burst out laughing, and I couldn't help laughing too. For a brief moment, the tension that had been sitting on my chest since morning lifted.
We moved towards the road and Zahir raised his hand and hailed a taxi passing by.
As the taxi pulled up and we climbed inside, I felt a small wave of relief wash over me.
The first part of the plan had gone smoothly.
For the first time since Aarav's call that morning, my breathing felt easier.
Now all I had to do was reach Zahir's apartment, wait for Jyotsna to call, become Sam again... and catch my evening flight out of the city.
Simple.
At least, that was the plan.
I leaned back against the seat as the taxi merged into the afternoon traffic.
And silently hoped that the rest of the day would go just as smoothly.
---
We reached Zahir's apartment without incident.
I followed him a step behind as we climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor. The burkha swished softly around my legs with every step, the thick black cloth trapping the afternoon heat inside it.
By the time we reached the door, I was already sweating.
Zahir unlocked the door and stepped aside to let me enter first.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I pulled the burkha off my head with an almost desperate motion.
"God," I muttered, fanning my face with my hand. "How do women breathe inside this thing?"
I tossed the burkha onto the sofa beside me and sank into the cushions with a deep sigh of relief.
The cool air from the ceiling fan washed over my face and neck, instantly easing the suffocating heat that had built up under the veil.
For a few seconds I simply sat there, enjoying the cool air.
Then my eyes wandered slowly around the familiar living room.
And suddenly the memory returned.
Three weeks ago.
I had been sitting in almost the same position on this very sofa when Bhai's men had stormed into the apartment.
The memory of their hard faces, their threatening voices, and the quiet menace in their eyes made my stomach tighten again.
That visit had been the catalyst for everything that had followed.
It had pushed me toward the desperate decision to agree to Aarav's plan - to become Sameera until she returned from surgery.
But now...
Sameera was dead. She would never return. And the plan had turned into quicksand beneath my feet.
"Shall I order pizza?" Zahir asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I blinked and looked up at him.
"Yeah," I said immediately.
Only then did I realise how hungry I actually was.
"I haven't eaten anything since morning."
Except that ridiculous aloe vera juice.
Ever since becoming Sameera, that green liquid had become a permanent part of my morning routine. Apparently actresses drank things like that for their health.
Zahir picked up his phone and ordered the pizza while I stretched out on the sofa, trying to relax and relieve the stress.
As we waited for the delivery, my thoughts returned to my situation.
To Sameera.
To Aarav's warning.
And to my plan to disappear to Hyderabad.
The whole situation felt surreal.
The doorbell rang.
"Pizza," Zahir said, getting up.
But when he opened the door, the voice that came floating inside was not the delivery boy's.
"Hi dude!"
I turned my head.
Rahul.
The same Rahul whose birthday party I had attended three weeks ago and who had walked into the restaurant where I had gone to meet Zahir secretly.
The man had a remarkable talent for appearing at the most inconvenient moments imaginable.
He walked in casually, still talking to Zahir, but the moment his eyes fell on me, he froze.
His mouth literally fell open.
"Oh my God," he blurted out.
His eyes widened.
"Sameera!"
His voice was filled with excitement.
"My lucky day!"
Not mine, I thought inwardly.
I suddenly became aware that he was ogling me.
I had been lying stretched comfortably across the sofa.
Now it made me conscious of how I must be looking.
The soft white silk blouse.
The fitted dark blue jeans.
The exposed midriff.
My long hair falling over my shoulders.
Did the relaxed pose appear seductive to him?
Men, I thought with a grimace.
I sat up quickly.
The movement seemed to remind him that staring openly at women was generally bad manners.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I... I've become a big fan of yours, Sameera," he said eagerly. "Imagine... you spent time with me on my birthday!"
With him?
I had spent the night hanging out with Zahir's entire group of friends on his birthday.
This man clearly seemed to have a very positive way of looking at things.
Just then the doorbell rang again.
This time it really was the pizza delivery boy.
Zahir brought the box inside and placed it on the table.
The smell alone made my stomach growl.
I grabbed a slice immediately and took a big bite.
"Oh my God," Rahul said again, staring at me.
"What?" I said.
"Imagine Sameera eating pizza like... like the rest of us."
Zahir burst out laughing.
"Is Sameera supposed to be abnormal?" he said. "Eat food made of gold and pearls?"
Rahul waved his hands nervously.
"No, no, I didn't mean that! I just meant... she's a star..."
He looked at me hopefully.
"Can I take a picture?"
"No," I said immediately.
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Zahir shot him an irritated look as well.
Rahul looked embarrassed.
"No... I mean... I know the last time we met... at the restaurant... and I tried to take a selfie... and that created problems for you. Zahir told me about it. I'm really sorry for that."
Yeah, well, I had bigger problems now.
"You know, I recently shifted to an animation company that works for the film industry," he said eagerly. "Maybe I might get to work on a film starring you someday," he added hopefully.
God, the man irritated me.
"I don't do animation movies," I told him curtly.
"I mean special effects and stuff... for one of your movies, maybe," he said quickly.
Zahir changed the subject.
"Rahul, what brings you here today?"
Rahul slapped his forehead.
"Oh yeah! I almost forgot in the presence of Sameera."
He laughed nervously.
"My sister is getting married next month. In Indore. You must come, dude."
He pulled out an invitation card and handed it to Zahir.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he extended another one toward me.
"Sameera... I know you must be terribly busy. And this is probably... you know... below your league..."
His voice trailed off shyly.
"But I would be really happy if you could come."
I could come, I thought inwardly.
But not as Sameera after tonight.
I gave him a polite plastic smile.
"I'll see if I can manage."
His face lit up instantly.
Zahir glanced at the clock.
"Sameera, you must be getting late," he said meaningfully.
Rahul got the hint.
"Yeah... yeah... I should be leaving."
He moved toward the door but turned back once again before stepping out, looking at me with obvious admiration.
When the door finally closed behind him, I rolled my eyes dramatically.
Zahir laughed.
"That guy is your fan number one. Completely besotted."
"Yeah," I said dryly. "I'll miss him."
After a while I dialled Jyotsna's number.
She answered almost immediately.
"Sorry, dahling," she said in her dramatic voice. "I'm still at Sukanya's place. I'll call you as soon as I get back."
Sukanya was another rising starlet.
Apparently Jyotsna's schedule was as chaotic as the film industry itself.
I sighed.
The delay was frustrating.
I stretched out on the sofa again.
I called Aarav's number.
I wanted to ask him if they had found Sameera's body.
He didn't answer.
He was probably busy handling the situation.
He would message me if anything new happened.
I checked my messages just to be sure.
There was nothing.
A few minutes later, as I lay there browsing my phone idly, exhaustion caught up with me.
Before I realised it, my eyes had closed.
I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing.
I blinked and picked it up.
Jyotsna.
"You can come now, dahling," she said. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."
I looked at the time.
4:30 p.m.
Gosh.
My flight was at 8:30.
Everything suddenly felt rushed.
I quickly put the burkha back on and hugged Zahir goodbye.
"Take care," he said.
Then he handed me a folded bundle of clothes.
A T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
My old clothes. I had asked him to bring them from my apartment.
Finally, I thought with relief.
I would soon be wearing my own clothes again.
I went downstairs and got into the Uber I had booked.
The ride to Jyotsna's parlour took about twenty minutes.
When I arrived, the place was still closed.
I called her.
"I'm on the way, dahling," she said. "Five minutes."
I waited outside.
The street itself was fairly quiet.
Only one vehicle stood nearby - a grey Honda parked a short distance away.
The driver sat inside, apparently waiting for someone.
I leaned against the wall and checked the time again.
My attention drifted lazily toward the grey Honda.
The driver seemed to be talking on his phone.
At one point he glanced briefly in my direction.
For a moment I stiffened.
Then I reminded myself that I was wearing a burkha.
No one could possibly recognise me.
The engine of the Honda started. Apparently he was done waiting and was moving to pick someone up.
The driver revved it slightly.
Then the car made a sharp U-turn.
And began moving toward me.
Before I could understand what was happening, the car stopped abruptly beside me.
Two men jumped out.
Strong hands grabbed my arms.
"What-!"
I tried to pull away, but they were too fast.
They shoved me toward the open car door.
Stunned, I reacted a second too late.
Before I could scream or struggle, one of them pressed a handkerchief tightly over my nose and mouth.
A sharp chemical smell filled my lungs.
Chloroform.
The thought flashed through my mind.
My limbs began to weaken almost instantly.
The world tilted.
The last thing I saw was the car door slamming shut.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
-----
That's the end of Chapter 20. Do let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Comment freely. Drop a like if you enjoyed reading it.
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> © Moon Winters, 2026. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The medical procedures, treatments, and concepts depicted in this work are purely fictional and should not be considered accurate, realistic, or medically valid. They are presented solely for narrative purposes and should not be interpreted as medical advice or real-world possibility.
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