The headlines were relentless:
"Kiara Kapoor and Ananya: Chemistry Beyond the Screen?"
"Bollywood's Golden Pair—Is Aarav Out of the Picture?"
Kiara slammed her phone shut, her chest tight with frustration. It was just another rumor, but she knew how these stories could poison trust. And Aarav was thousands of miles away, fighting battles she couldn't see.
When his call came that night, his voice was calm—too calm. "I saw the news."
Kiara closed her eyes. "Aarav, it's nonsense. You know that."
"I do," he said quietly. "But seeing it… hearing people talk… it's hard."
Her throat burned. "Do you think I'd ever—"
"No," he cut in, his tone firm. "I trust you, Kiara. I just… hate that I'm not there."
Silence stretched, heavy with longing. Then Kiara whispered, "Look at me."
He lifted his gaze to the screen, and her heart clenched at the exhaustion in his eyes. Slowly, she reached for her phone, switching to video mode. The glow of her lamp softened her features as she leaned close, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Aarav Mehta," she said, her eyes locking on his through the screen, "you're the only man I see. The only man I want. And if the whole world stood between us, I'd still choose you."
His breath hitched, his fingers curling against the desk. "Kiara…"
She smiled faintly, tears shimmering. "Distance doesn't change love. It just makes it stronger."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Aarav whispered, raw and unguarded, "You have no idea what you do to me."
Her lips curved in a soft smile. "Then come back and show me."
He laughed—a broken, tender sound—and for the first time in weeks, the storm between them calmed. Because trust wasn't about ignoring fear. It was about choosing love anyway.
And as the call ended, Aarav stared at her frozen image on the screen, his heart aching with a truth he could no longer deny: he needed her more than the stars he chased.