Epilogue
Two Months Later - Dubai
The Dubai sun blazed overhead as Divya stood on the film set, clipboard in hand, watching the controlled chaos of a major production unfold.
Two months since Filmfare. Two months since Vikram had declared his love to millions.
Two months of being his wife, really, truly his wife, in every way that mattered.
And her last week as his assistant.
"Divya!" The director's assistant called out. "We need Vikram for blocking in five!"
"On it." She scanned the set, finding Vikram exactly where she expected, near the monitor, discussing camera angles with the cameraman. They were shooting for the next movie while Dil Aur Desk remained in pre-release stages.
He looked up as she approached, and his entire face transformed. The professional mask dropped, replaced by something warm and intimate that made her stomach flip even now.
"Mrs. Khanna," he said, voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "Come to drag me away?"
"The next scene." She kept her tone professional despite the heat in his eyes. "Five minutes."
"Which scene?"
"The intimate confrontation. You know, the one where…"
"The one where I kiss the heroine against the wall." His expression shifted to something darker. More possessive. "That scene."
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since his post Film Fare infamous interview two months ago, where he'd declared he found it "repulsive" to kiss anyone who wasn't his wife, the entire industry had been in an uproar.
Producers scrambling to adjust scripts. Heroines alternatively flattered and insulted. The media having a field day.
And Divya caught between fury at his audacity and a deeply inconvenient need for him to prove exactly how much he meant it.
"Yes, that scene." She gestured toward the set. "They're waiting."
"Good." He stood, catching her wrist as he passed. "Because you're coming with me."
"Vikram…"
"For blocking." His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, finding her racing pulse. "Just blocking, Divya. Unless you want it to be more."
Heat flooded her face. Around them, crew members suddenly became very interested in their equipment.
He led her toward the set, a lavishly decorated hotel suite that had been meticulously recreated. The director waited near the camera, script in hand.
"Finally!" Farhan called out. "We've been waiting…" He stopped as he noticed Divya. "Oh. Are we doing this again?"
"Every time." Vikram's tone left no room for argument. "My wife blocks the intimate scenes. The heroine can watch and replicate."
Divya caught sight of the actual heroine, Deepika Rao, a rising star who'd been thrilled to land this role opposite Vikram Khanna. She stood to the side now, expression caught between amusement and resignation. This was the fourth scene they'd blocked this way.
"Alright." Farhan sighed. "Let's go through it. Vikram, you enter from stage left. Divya, you're by the window."
They moved through the blocking. The argument. The tension. The moment where Vikram's character finally snaps and backs her against the wall.
Except it wasn't acting.
His hands framed her face the way they do every time he wanted to devour her. His body pressed against hers with barely restrained hunger. His eyes held heat that had nothing to do with performance.
"Like this?" His voice was rough, pitched for her ears only.
"You're supposed to be angry," she managed. "Not looking at me like…"
"Like I want to eat you?" His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Can't help it. You're the only one I want to kiss."
"The cameras aren't even rolling yet."
"Don't care." He leaned closer, his breath warm against her mouth. "Tell me to stop."
She should. They were on set. Surrounded by crew. This was completely unprofessional.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
His mouth claimed hers. Hot and hungry and possessive.
Someone cleared their throat loudly.
Vikram pulled back with visible reluctance, though he didn't step away. Just looked down at her with satisfaction.
"Got it," Farhan called out, sounding long-suffering. "Deepika, did you see the positioning?"
"Yes." Deepika’s voice carried amusement. "Though I doubt I can replicate the chemistry."
"Just the choreography," Farhan muttered. "The chemistry is clearly non-transferable."
Vikram finally released Divya, but not before pressing one more kiss to her forehead, a gesture that had become his signature, that the media had picked up on, that fans now called "the Vikram Khanna forehead kiss."
"Thank you, Mrs. Khanna," he said formally, eyes dancing. "Your assistance has been invaluable."
"You're impossible," she said, but couldn't quite suppress her smile.
"And you love me anyway."
"Unfortunately."
His laugh followed her as she retreated to her usual spot near the monitors, trying to ignore the knowing looks from the crew.
This had become routine over the past two months.
Every intimate scene blocked with her first. Sometimes they got it in one take when he finally filmed with the actual heroine.
Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, it took ten or more takes because he "wasn't satisfied with the positioning" and needed to "check the blocking again" with Divya.
Everyone knew what was really happening. No one commented. Vikram Khanna's devotion to his wife had become legendary.
◆◆◆
The morning shoot wrapped at noon. Divya gathered her notes, confirmed the afternoon schedule, and was heading toward the production van when a familiar golden blur nearly knocked her over.
"Pista!" She laughed as the retriever jumped up, tail wagging frantically. "Down, boy. Down."
"He missed you." Ishani appeared, holding Pista's leash with one hand while scrolling through her phone with the other. "We all did. How was the shoot?"
"The usual." Divya scratched behind Pista's ears. "Vikram being impossible. The crew pretending they don't notice. Farhan looking like he's aged ten years."
"The blocking thing again?"
"Every intimate scene."
Ishani grinned. "That man is ridiculous."
"That man is mine," Divya said, then immediately flushed at how possessive that sounded.
"Look at you." Ishani bumped her shoulder. "Two months ago you couldn't even say his name. Now you're claiming ownership."
"He claimed me first."
"True." Ishani's expression softened. "You know the entire internet is obsessed with you two, right? 'Couple goals' and all that?"
Divya had seen some of it. The fan edits. The articles. The hashtags. #VikYa trending worldwide after Filmfare. The clips of his declaration replayed millions of times.
It should have been overwhelming. Instead, it felt... right. Like the world finally saw what had always been true.
"Come on." Ishani tugged her toward the hotel. "Lunch with the family. And Raghav's friend Abhinav is joining us."
◆◆◆
The hotel restaurant had been partially reserved for the Khanna family. Harshit and Kavita were already seated at the head of the table when the rest of them arrived, Vikram and Divya, Raghav and Ishani.
They'd barely settled into their seats when a familiar voice called out.
"Uncle! Aunty!"
A man strode into the restaurant, and Harshit's face lit up immediately. He stood, pulling the newcomer into a warm embrace.
"Abhinav! It's been too long."
Tall, well-built, with sharp features softened by warm brown eyes and an easy smile. Something about his bearing suggested old money and older manners as he greeted Kavita with equal warmth, then turned to Vikram.
"Vikram." The handshake was firm, familiar. "Good to see you. Though I have to say, your declaration made international news. Very dramatic, even by your standards."
"It worked, didn't it?" Vikram grinned, gesturing to Divya beside him.
"Clearly." Abhinav's smile turned knowing before he shifted his attention to Raghav. "And this one, still terrible at returning calls, I see."
"I called you back," Raghav protested.
"Three days later."
"I was busy getting married."
"Fair point." Abhinav's expression turned warmer. "Which brings me to the introductions I've been waiting for." He turned to face the two women he hadn't met. "The infamous sisters-in-law."
"Abhinav." Raghav gestured between them. "My wife, Ishani. And Vikram's wife, Divya."
Abhinav's handshake with Ishani was firm and respectful. "Raghav's been talking about you nonstop. I was starting to think he'd made you up."
"All good things, I hope," Ishani said.
"Disturbingly good things. Made me wonder what kind of woman could actually put up with this one." He gestured at Raghav with affectionate exasperation.
Then he turned to Divya, and his expression shifted to something warmer. "And you must be the one who brought Vikram Khanna to his knees."
Divya flushed. "I didn't… He chose to…"
"She's still in denial," Vikram cut in, standing to clasp Abhinav's hand with the easy familiarity of someone who'd met him before. "Good to see you, Abhinav. Sorry it couldn't be under better circumstances."
Something flickered across Abhinav's face, grief, quickly masked. "Thank you."
"Your father was a good man," Kavita said softly, reaching across to squeeze Abhinav's hand. "We were heartbroken to hear."
"Thank you, Aunty." Abhinav's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's been... difficult."
An awkward pause settled over the table.
"Well, you're here now," Harshit said firmly, the way he did when redirecting conversations at board meetings. "And we're glad for it. Been too long since we’ve met."
"Far too long," Abhinav agreed, settling back into his seat as everyone else took theirs. "Though I have to say, Uncle, the last time I saw you, you didn't have a viral superstar son making declarations on national television."
Vikram groaned. "Not you too."
"Millions of people, Vikram. Million of people." Abhinav's grin turned wicked. "I watched the replays at least five times. Very Bollywood. Very dramatic. Very you."
"It worked, didn't it?" Vikram's hand found Divya's under the table, squeezing gently.