(A/N):
Drop a here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comnts and power stones... Which will encourage ...
....
Inside the caravan, the transformation had already begun.
The costu assistant carefully handed over Ram's outfit.
Unlike the stylish clothes Karuppu had worn in Aadhavan.
Unlike the confident and playful outfits of Siva in SMS.
Ram's appearance was intentionally ordinary.
A man who looked exhausted by life.
A man carrying invisible wounds.
Karuppu silently slipped into the suit.
"...."
The white shirt.
Dark trousers.
A slightly loose coat.
Nothing flashy. Nothing morable.
Exactly how Aishwarya wanted him.
Because Ram wasn't supposed to stand out.
He was supposed to disappear into the crowd.
Soon the makeup artists entered.
They had worked closely with Aishwarya for several days discussing Ram's appearance during this portion of the story.
The version of Ram they were filming today wasn't the cheerful young lover.
Nor the newly married husband.
This was a man already deep inside the darkness.
A man slowly losing himself.
A man who hadn't slept properly in days.
One artist carefully applied subtle shadows beneath his eyes.
Another added slight swelling around them.
Not enough to look theatrical.
Just enough to suggest exhaustion.
A thin bandage was placed above his eyebrow.
A remnant from a previous incident which hasn't shot yet.
Small touch-ups followed.
The skin tone was dulled slightly.
The face made paler.
The lips less vibrant.
When the final touch was complete, the makeup artist stepped back.
"...."
For a mont nobody spoke.
Because Karuppu was gone.
Ram sat in the chair.
Quiet. Lost. Distant.
Even before the caras rolled.
Karuppu seems to be imnse himself in his Ram Charecter.
Outside the set, preparations were complete.
Lights.
Caras.
Props.
Sound.
Everything stood ready.
The first major scene of the schedule.
And perhaps one of the most important.
Because this scene showed exactly how far Ram had fallen.
"ACTION!"
The house door opened.
Ram entered carrying a suitcase.
His movents felt strangely chanical.
Not dramatic. Not exaggerated.
Just... Empty.
Behind him walked Senthil his best friend.
His arm supported by a sling.
A visible reminder of the damage Ram's actions had already caused.
Inside the house.
Janani and her friend sat talking.
"...."
"...."
The atmosphere already felt tense.
Heavy. Uncomfortable.
The type of silence that exists before a storm.
Then Janani looked up.
Saw Ram.
And imdiately stood.
Shruti's expression changed perfectly.
Relief.
Anger.
Frustration.
Fear.
All mixed together. Training she had underwent with her father paying up.
"Where were you?"
The question ca instantly.
No greeting. No smile.
Just frustration. Clear frustration.
Ram didn't look at her eyes. Not once.
"...."
He simply placed the suitcase down.
His voice flat.
"I was at work."
The slap ca imdiately.
The sound echoed through the set.
-SLAP!
Several junior artists flinched.
Janani's eyes filled with tears.
"I called your office."
"They said you weren't there."
The pain in her voice felt real.
Not the pain of being lied to.
The pain of watching soone she loved disappear before her eyes.
"Why are you lying to ?"
Senthil imdiately tried intervening.
"Janani..."
She turned to him in anger.
"No."
"Don't interfere."
"This is between us. Who are you to ddle in our business."
Then sothing changed.
A subtle shift. Almost invisible.
Ram slowly raised his head.
"...."
For the first ti. His eyes t hers.
Several crew mbers later admitted that mont gave them chills.
Because Karuppu's eyes didn't look angry.
Didn't look emotional.
Didn't even look human.
They looked... Absent.
Then the anger arrived.
Tiny.
Barely noticeable. Like a spark.
"What will you do? If he stays... He is my friend..."
He asked quietly.
His hand slowly rose.
As though he intended to hit her.
Janani froze seeing her husband who never once raised his hands on her raise it now.
"...."
So did the entire set.
The hand stopped midway.
Hovering. Shaking. As if a invisible hand was holding it still.
Then Ram simply stared.
"...."
Janani broke. Completely this ti.
"Then hit !"
The tears finally ca.
"Why did you stop?"
"You don't love anymore!"
"I'm here for you!"
"No matter what happens!"
"Please..."
"Just tell what's wrong!"
Behind the monitor, Aishwarya felt goosebumps.
Because Shruti wasn't acting anymore.
She was pleading.
Begging.
Trying to save soone she loved.
She saw Janani's desperate attempt of showing her love by kissing Ram's forehead, cheeks and lips that she still loves him as she did years ago.
And Ram? He just stood.
Nothing.
No response. No explanation.
No defense.
He simply lowered his head again.
As though the world had disappeared.
Janani finally gave up.
Broken. Defeated.
She apologized to Senthil for earlier break out.
Then quietly walked toward the bedroom.
Monts later the sound of muffled crying echoed from inside.
Ram remained standing.
Motionless.
"...."
Senthil attempted speaking.
Once. Twice. Three tis.
No response.
Eventually Senthil sat at the dining table.
Watching. Waiting.
Hoping his friend would co back to reality.
Then the cara slowly pushed toward the wall clock.
Ti accelerated.
The hands spun rapidly.
Midnight.
One.... Two.... Three....
And suddenly...
Ram moved once again as a switch has been turned on.
Not dramatically. Not suddenly.
Just... Moved.
Senthil had already fallen asleep on the dining table.
Exhausted.
Ram calmly walked toward the kitchen.
The cara followed.
He opened a drawer.
And took out a knife.
The silence on set beca suffocating.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Even though everyone knew the script.
Even though everyone knew what happened next.
Nobody spoke.
Ram walked toward the bedroom.
Opened the door.
Janani slept peacefully.
Tear stains still visible.
The knife slowly rose.
Not in anger. Not in rage.
Almost chanically.
As though another part of him controlled the movent.
The blade hovered above her.
One more second he would stab her to death.
And then—A hand grabbed him from behind.
Senthil.
He covered Ram's mouth instantly.
Pulled him away.
Dragged him from the room.
Fighting desperately to stop him.
The bedroom door closed.
Janani never woke up.
And the scene ended.
"CUT!"
Aishwarya shouted with excitent.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
The silence remained.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Even after the caras stopped rolling.
Even after the lights adjusted.
Even after assistants began moving.
Because sothing about Karuppu's performance felt deeply unsettling.
Veteran actors like Prabhu and Bhanupriya had arrived earlier even through their scenes were limited in this schedule.
They had arrived to catch up with the scene and intensity.
Which most experienced actors and actress would do.
Neither had expected this.
They simply watched quietly.
Processing what they had seen.
Nearby.
Rajinikanth sat with his arms folded.
Impressed. Very impressed.
But also concerned.
Because he had seen enough actors in his life to recognize sothing unusual.
A few feet away.
Kamal Haasan's expression was even more serious.
He wasn't impressed.
Not at first.
He was worried.
Because he knew exactly what he was seeing.
thod acting.
Not ordinary preparation. Not rehearsals.
Not emotional mory exercises.
Full imrsion.
The kind where actors stopped acting and started living as the character.
Dangerous territory.
Especially for soone so young.
Rajinikanth noticed Kamal's expression.
"What?"
Kamal continued watching Karuppu.
"...."
Who still stood quietly near the set.
Head lowered.
Almost as though he hadn't completely returned yet.
"He's not performing."
Kamal said quietly in a serious tone.
Rajini frowned hearing his best friend.
"What do you an?"
Kamal sighed as if he was sensing the approaching head ache.
-Sigh!
"I think he's becoming Ram."
The Superstar's expression imdiately changed.
Because he understood exactly what that ant.
And exactly how dangerous it could beco.
Both legends exchanged a glance.
Then silently arrived at the sa conclusion.
The shooting could continue.
The performance was extraordinary.
Perhaps even career-defining.
But before this schedule ended...
They were going to have a very serious conversation with one stubborn eighteen-year-old actor.
London...
anwhile, thousands of kiloters away in London...
The entertainnt world was focused on sothing entirely different.
The newest Harry Potter film was only weeks away from release.
Trailers had finally dropped.
Television channels discussed it.
Entertainnt websites analyzed every fra.
Fan forums exploded with theories.
Book readers debated scenes.
Moviegoers speculated endlessly.
Once again, Harry Potter fever had gripped the world.
And at the center of it all stood the young cast who had practically grown up in front of millions.
Among them...
Emma Watson.
The Sun Headquaters...
Inside the headquarters of The Sun, however, excitent wasn't centered around Hogwarts.
It centered around a newspaper sitting fresh off the printing press.
The Chief Editor stared at the front page with visible satisfaction.
A wide grin slowly stretched across his face.
-Grin!
"...."
The headline occupied a prominent section.
Large enough to attract attention.
Small enough to avoid imdiate legal trouble.
The perfect tabloid balance.
Beside it sat several photographs.
Photographs that had cost the paper a substantial amount of money.
The paparazzo who captured them had known exactly what he possessed.
Exclusive material.
Rare material.
Potentially explosive material.
Enough that The Sun had imdiately purchased partial rights to the images before competitors could get their hands on them.
The editor tapped the page proudly.
"This will sell."
Nobody in the room disagreed.
The story itself was simple.
At least on paper.
Emma Watson.
One of the most recognizable young actresses in the world.
Seen spending an evening with a young Indian celebrity.
Not just any celebrity.
Karuppu.
The recent IPL sensation.
The U-19 World Cup hero.
The actor whose debut film had shocked the Indian entertainnt industry.
The combination practically wrote itself.
The article exaggerated every possible detail.
A dinner beca a date.
A conversation beca chemistry.
A eting beca a developing relationship.
Questions beca implications.
Implications beca assumptions.
The ancient art of tabloid journalism.
By the following morning, several entertainnt programs had already picked up the story.
Television hosts discussed it.
Celebrity magazines referenced it.
Radio stations joked about it.
Online forums imdiately began doing what online forums did best.
Speculating wildly.
Inside hotels across Europe where promotional tours for the Harry Potter film were underway, publicists collectively developed headaches.
Because the timing was terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
The film release was approaching.
Interviews were scheduled.
Press conferences were planned.
dia attention needed to remain focused on the movie.
Not a random dinner in South Africa.
At one luxury hotel lobby, Emma sat opposite her mother.
Jacqueline Luesby.
Lawyer. Professional.
Experienced.
"...."
And currently wearing the expression every child feared.
The expression that said.
"I already know the answer. I'm just waiting to hear your version."
The newspaper sat on the table between them.
Folded neatly.
The photographs clearly visible.
Emma avoided looking at it. Or her mother.
Both felt equally dangerous.
For several monts Jacqueline remained silent.
Which sohow made things worse.
Finally she looked up.
"Emma."
The actress imdiately knew she was in trouble.
Not serious trouble. Mother trouble.
Which was often worse.
"Would you like to explain this?"
She tapped the newspaper.
Emma coughed lightly.
-Cough!
The kind of cough people produced when desperately buying ti.
"There's not much to explain."
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow.
A lawyer eyebrow. A particularly terrifying variety.
Emma surrendered not able to bear it.
"Mom."
"It was dinner."
"Just dinner."
Jacqueline continued watching her.
Years spent in courtrooms had taught her many skills.
One of them involved recognizing when people were hiding details.
Even when those people happened to be her daughter.
"Just dinner?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"That's all?"
Emma hesitated. A very small hesitation.
"...."
Barely noticeable. To anyone except her mother.
Jacqueline leaned back.
There it is.
Not necessarily guilt. Not necessarily romance.
But definitely sothing.
Interest perhaps.
Curiosity.
The possibility of future complications.
And that alone was enough to worry a parent.
Because Jacqueline wasn't concerned about Karuppu himself.
By all accounts he appeared polite.
Respectful.
Successful.
Hardworking.
By the interviews about him given by his teammates.
She had done her research before question her daughter.
The problem was everything surrounding them.
The dia.
The attention.
The distance.
The different countries. The different industries.
The endless speculation will be made.
One photograph was enough to create this chaos.
Imagine what happened if more appeared.
Eventually Jacqueline sighed.
The kind of sigh only parents could produce.
Half concern. Half resignation.
-Sigh!
"Just be careful."
Emma finally nodded.
Because despite everything...
Her mother wasn't wrong.
After a few more minutes, Jacqueline stood and prepared to leave.
Promotional commitnts were waiting.
Schedules never stopped.
Before walking away, however, she glanced back once more.
"One dinner."
Emma nodded imdiately.
"One dinner."
Jacqueline left.
The mont she disappeared from view, Emma leaned back against her chair.
Relieved.
For approximately three seconds.
Then her mobile vibrated.
A notification.
Another news article.
Another discussion.
Another photograph.
Emma groaned seeing it.
Resting her forehead against the table.
Because she already knew this wouldn't disappear quickly.
Especially since sowhere in India...
There was a very high probability that a certain mischievous cricketer-actor hadn't even realized he had beco international tabloid news.
And sohow...
That thought made her laugh despite herself.
Which only confird Jacqueline's suspicions even further. Who was hiding at the corner observing her daughter.
*******************************
(Author note:)
I hope you guys give your opinion and idea's.
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