The deer and the wolf

Prologue

The sun was merciless that day, sparing no one. The asphalt on the road looked as if it might melt and run down the sides. Maha walked with her head lowered, enduring the relentless heat. She walked down the otherwise crowded street - if not for the unbearable heat. Even the trees lining both sides of the road offered no relief. The usual bustle of traffic and honking vehicles only made the air feel heavier, the heat even more suffocating. Her well-set hair was now damp with sweat, beads of it rolling down her forehead, smudging the makeup she had carefully applied that morning.

She looked at her watch, her face clouded with uncertainty. Digging into her handbag, she searched for any money left. Her fingers found a crumpled, torn ₹10 note. She held it in her sweaty palm, making it even worse. Carefully, she straightened it, staring at it for a moment before closing her eyes. A tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. One could not tell if her makeup had faded from crying or sweating.

She scanned her surroundings and spotted a tea shop. With aching feet and heels that made every step harder, she trudged toward it. Her eyes darted around the shop, searching for something she could afford. Then she saw a board: “Tea - ₹10.”

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion as she approached the counter. Handing over the worn-out note, she asked hesitantly, “Anna, tea?”

The man at the counter barely glanced at her as he examined the note. “This is torn. Do you have another one?”

Maha stood there, gripping the note. Her eyes welled up.

The shopkeeper finally looked at her. “Do you have any other note?”

She swallowed hard. “No, Anna,” she murmured.

With a familiar sigh, he nodded. “Okay. Give it.” He called out, “Master! One tea.”

Maha almost broke down. “Thank you, Anna,” she said, her voice trembling.

As she stepped away from the counter, the shopkeeper called after her. “Wait.” He placed a ₹5 Parle-G biscuit packet in front of her.

She shook her head. “No, Anna. I just want the tea.”

“I know,” he replied. “But you can still have it.”

She hesitated before taking the biscuits. By the time she reached the table, her tea was ready. She grabbed the cup and tore open the biscuit packet, eating as if she hadn’t seen food in days.

When only three biscuits remained, she paused. Her hand froze. She closed her eyes, picturing her daughter.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She whispered to herself, “I hope you have eaten something. I’ll be home soon.”

Mahalakshmi Kanagaraj

I couldn’t see anything clearly—everything was faded and smoky. I was trying to leave my burrow to find food. Hunger gnawed at me, but something in the air felt wrong. As I stepped outside, I looked around—and then I saw him.

A wolf.

His mouth dripped with saliva, his eyes locked onto me. He didn’t move. He just watched. Studied me. Waiting. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I was prey. Fear took over, and I turned, rushing back inside. My heart pounded as I gasped for breath, but the moment I stepped in, I froze.

Yazhi!, My heart stopped for a moment. She was lying there! Motionless and covered in blood.

I jumped out of bed, my hands shivering, my body drenched in sweat, and my heart gasping for air. I looked around. The sun was up, and the crows cawed, signaling that it was already late in the morning. I turned to my side and let out a relieved sigh—Yazhi was lying next to me.

Yazhini, my purpose in life. My only hope in this world. My daughter.

I was just 19 when I had her. Her father—whose name I don’t even want to utter—ran off when she was just six months old. Ever since, we’ve been finding purpose in each other. All she has ever known is me, and everything I do is for her.

I placed my hand on her forehead. She was burning with fever. Leaning in close, I whispered, “Yazhi? Are you alright? Yazhi?”

She slowly opened her eyes. “Amma… I feel tired… and sick,” she murmured.

Seeing her like this twists my stomach, eyes well up and clenches my fist. Also as the only one running this household, I can’t help but worry about the cost of her treatment.

My father was a self-made man. He gave me everything—the best education, the finest clothes, and food on my plate every day. He never let me know what hunger felt like. But after marriage, I spent countless nights going to bed without food. I’ve lost count of how many.

Yet, as a mother, I want to give my daughter the life my father gave me.

We’ve been surviving on what I make from modeling, photoshoots, and the occasional acting job. The money was good when I was younger. But now, in my thirties, I can’t compete with the younger women out there. I don’t know what made me choose this profession—just like I chose my husband, I chose this too. I fell for vanity and glamour.

In the beginning, the money was good. But now, we barely get by.

With Yazhi, now a 12-year-old girl, I have to do something before it’s too late—for both of us.

I rushed to the kitchen to see if there was anything I could give my poor daughter. I lit the stove, poured some milk into a vessel, and let it boil. Quickly, I started searching for a strip of Paracetamol. As I was digging through the drawers, my phone rang.

It was my agent, Kumar.

I picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Maha!” he yelled my name in excitement. “This is a great opportunity for you. Trust me! This could finally settle you and your daughter forever.”

I sighed, not wanting to be rude. “This is what you said last time, Kumar. All those casting agents don’t seem to be working for talent anymore. I can’t forget the last guy—he asked me, point-blank, if I would sleep with him. The last ten auditions I went to from your contacts have all been the same. Flesh before talent.”

Kumar, being Kumar, responded with that irritating smirk in his voice. I knew that smirk well—whenever he had it, something was bound to be wrong.

“Don’t worry, this time, the producer is genuine,” he said. “He’s backed a lot of blockbuster movies. He knows how to handle artists.”

Hopefully, I sighed. “I’ll be there by 10 AM, okay?”

“Okay,” he said and hung up.

As soon as I put the phone down, I heard a soft moaning sound from the bedroom. It was Yazhi. Then I realized—the milk!

I rushed to the kitchen, only to find that most of it had boiled over onto the stove. I sighed. “There goes my breakfast.”

Quickly, I poured what was left into a glass, grabbed the pill, and walked to the bedroom. That’s when I noticed the time—8 AM. I knew I shouldn’t be late. The audition venue was far from my place.

I ran to the bed where Yazhi lay and carefully placed the milk next to her. Leaning in, I kissed her cheek and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.

“I have an audition today. You better take the day off from school and rest. Can you manage until I get back?”

She didn’t answer. I shook her gently. “Yazhi! Please tell me. Otherwise, I won’t be able to concentrate on my work.”

She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “Can you bring me my favorite chocolate when you come back?”

I couldn’t help but smile. I kissed her cheek again. “I will.”

I got ready quickly, dressed up, and took one last look at myself in the mirror. I took a deep breath. That’s when I noticed the small bump on my stomach. Belly!, even when I don’t have anything to eat.

I pulled my stomach in and muttered to myself, “How can anyone reject this poor girl?”

With one last glance at Yazhi, I said, “Bye, Yazhi!” I had no heart to leave her. She hadn’t even opened her eyes, only responding to what I said. But this was one last effort—I turned and walked toward the door.

Just as I was about to step out, I heard her voice.

“Amma!”

I turned around. She was standing outside the bedroom, rubbing her eyes with her small hands, her curly hair all over her face—a heavy reminder of her father.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” I said, rushing to hug her tightly. I could feel her feverish warmth against me.

“Rest well today and lock the door from the inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay, Amma,” she said, hugging me again.

I stepped out, and she locked the door behind me. As I walked away, I peeked through the window next to the door. I saw Yazhi walking back to her bedroom.

As I turned to leave, I noticed Meena Aunty coming up the stairs with a huge bucket full of clothes in her hands. She was the owner of the so called penthouse we lived in and our so called lawn is where all the residents dry their clothes. Despite her age, she barely seemed to feel the effort of the climb, her broad frame moving with ease.

I had once heard from the second-floor tenant that Meena Aunty had slapped her husband so hard that he was knocked out cold. It had taken him two full weeks to recover.

But to me, she had always been kind. The only problem? I was three months behind on my rent. I had been avoiding her for a while now, but I didn’t expect to run into her like this.

“Maha!” she called my name in her voice like a thunder from the dark clouds.

I turned to face her.

“Where is the rent?” she asked. “I’m not giving you any more grace time. I need it before this evening.”

I stood there, unable to say anything.

“5 PM today,” she said warningly. “I’ll come by again. I need the rent.”

I dared not look at her face. I murmured, “Okay, Aunty,” and took slow steps toward the staircase.

“Stop.”

Her voice froze me in place.

“Why is your door unlocked?”

“Yazhi is sick,” I replied.

She didn’t say anything. She simply turned and went about her business.

I let out a breath and quietly moved away.

Yazhini

The time was 8:45 AM. I should have been at school by now. It seemed like Mom and Meena Aunty were talking outside. But I couldn’t hear Mom’s voice anymore.

Slowly, I crawled out of bed and peeked through the small opening in the window. It was just Meena Aunty drying clothes. OMG! This tiny hole isn’t enough to get a full view of her. I wonder what she eats.

Alright! Time to execute the plan.

I quickly opened my school bag, found my cellphone, and dialed Aarthi—my partner in crime.

Tring tring… tring tring…

“Heyyyyyyyyy!” Aarthi sounded very excited. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I replied. “My mom just left for an audition, and she won’t be back until evening.”

“That’s perfect! The tickets are already booked. Call me before you leave, and we’ll meet in front of the movie theater.”

“Okay!” I said and hung up.

My heart was pounding. My legs were shivering. I had never felt anything like this before. I had never lied to Mom. It broke my heart to tell her I had a fever. If she ever found out about my little act, God knows what would happen.

But that won’t be the case. We’ll be back home before she returns, and she won’t have a clue.

Now, time to head to the movies—I had been waiting for this for the past three months. All I had to do was wait for Meena Aunty to leave and sneak out before anyone noticed me.

I went back to the bedroom to get dressed and saw a glass of milk and a pill on the pedestal next to the bed.

I paused for a second, took a deep breath, and thought about my mom for a moment. A rush of mixed emotions swirled in my head.

Then, quickly, I drank the milk. The cold liquid settled in my stomach. I picked up the pill, walked to the window, and threw it out.

If you’re going to commit a crime, why not do it perfectly?

I opened the wardrobe and grabbed my favorite black T-shirt that said “F**k the rules” and the blue jeans my mom bought me for my birthday last month. I slipped into them quickly and shoved my feet into whatever pair of shoes I could find on the rack.

One last check before I left. I walked to the mirror, took one last look at myself, and smirked. “My life, my rules.”

I tiptoed toward the door and leaned against it, pressing my ear to the wood. Silence. Meena Aunty must be done with her work. I pulled the door inward and peeked through the gap between the door and the threshold—no one in sight. Perfect.

I grabbed the key from the ugly bowl beside the door and sneaked downstairs. Meena Aunty’s door was closed. This was my moment. I took quick steps, and within seconds, I was far from my house.

Elsewhere, Maha was stepping into her moment of truth…

My stomach cramped as I switched between running and walking, the sun showing no mercy. I raised a hand over my face as if it could make any difference.

The audition hall was packed. A long row of women sat on plastic armless chairs lining both sides of the corridor. The scent of freshly bought clothes, mixed with several branded perfumes, drifted through the air. Some women glanced at me with wry expressions, while others were glued to their phone screens. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, curling my fingers into fists to steady them. My gaze flicked from one face to another—I’m the oldest one here.

At the far end of the corridor, a man in a faded navy-blue security uniform sat in front of a door, ushering people in one by one. The room was eerily silent. No one spoke. Everyone just waited, stiff and restless. With no empty seats left, I stood alongside a few others, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

Suddenly, the door at the far end opened, and a man in his fifties, dressed in a gray safari suit, stepped out, carrying a bundle of papers. He walked to the center of the corridor, raised his free hand, and looked around, waiting for silence. Only a few people turned to him, but it seemed enough.

“Attention, everyone! Thanks for coming,” he said, still raising his hand as his eyes scanned both sides of the corridor. “I’m going to share this application with you all. Please fill in your details. On the back of the sheet, you’ll find a description of the scene you must enact in front of the director and producer.”

He split the stack into two and handed them to the nearest women on each side. They took the papers hesitantly, exchanging confused glances before passing the sheets along, like students in an exam hall.

I was the last to receive one. Before filling in my details, I couldn’t resist flipping the page to see the scene. A slow dread crept up my spine as my eyes traced the words. My grip tightened, and I felt my knees wobble beneath me. It was….

The disrobing of Drapaud!

A gush of blood surged through my veins. My head steadied, the spinning stopped. Images of Yazhi and the people who mocked me and my dreams flashed before me. I knew how big this scene was—the distance between me and a breakthrough lay in this paper and that door.

Meanwhile, Yazhi at the cinema theatre…

I gasped for breath, sweat dripping from my forehead. The scorching sun wasn’t helping. Speed-walking wasn’t enough anymore—I broke into a jog, glancing at my watch as if that would make time slow down. Aarthi had already called thrice. My response was always the same: “I’m almost there, two more minutes.”

Finally, I reached the theatre. Aarthi stood outside, looking completely out of place in this crowd. I ran up to her—she looked drained, exhaustion heavy in her eyes. She scowled, ready to scold me, but I interrupted before she could open her mouth.

“They say the ice cream here is amazing. We should try it!”

Aarthi stared at me for a moment, her lips pressed in a thin line before curling into a smile.

“Idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Let’s go before the movie starts.”

The air inside was thick with sweat and the musty scent of old rexin seats. My ears rang from the mindless yelling. Boys stood on their seats, waving shirts above their heads. Aarthi clung to my hand, her fingers ice-cold, her body trembling slightly against mine as we pushed through the crowd.

For a moment, I questioned if coming here had been a mistake.

We were anomalies—two girls in a sea of frenzied, shirtless fans.

The theatre dimmed. The movie began. But the yelling didn’t stop.

I glanced at Aarthi. She smirked, shook her head, and tried to focus on the barely audible dialogue. My head throbbed. The noise pounded against my skull, a dull ache creeping in. My shoulders slumped, my eyes lost focus. My thoughts drifted—home, Amma, the aroma of hot coffee…

Later…

The end credits rolled. The once-roaring crowd had fallen silent. Some heads were lowered, eyes darting around as if seeking reassurance. Others smirked, hiding their disappointment behind forced grins and palm-covered mouths.

Seems like I wasn’t the only one regretting this.

As we stepped out, Aarthi suddenly pulled me back. We stood still as the crowd streamed past us like a river around a rock.

Grinning, she said, “We need to make up for this bad movie.”

I raised an eyebrow, inhaled sharply.

“No,” I said, firm, already walking ahead.

She grabbed my hand again.

“We may not get this opportunity again. Why don’t we go get some ice cream?”

“No,” I repeated. “My mom will be home soon. I need to be there before she arrives.”

“Alright, we’ll go before she gets back!” she insisted.

“I’m sorry, Aarthi.” My stomach churned from the lingering stench of sweat, my legs aching for home. “I don’t know when she’ll be back. I don’t want to take chances.”

Aarthi sighed, shrugged, and leaned into my shoulder.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, back at the audition hall…

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a deafening thump in my ears. My hands trembled, and my knees wobbled as if they were dancing to an unheard tune. The chairs lining both sides of the corridor were emptying one by one. Those who had finished their auditions walked out without giving anything away on their faces.

Like a clueless goat waiting to be butchered, I kept shifting from seat to seat. Just as I got closer to the door, the man in the safari suit stepped out, scanning the few of us still remaining. He raised his fingers, shifting his gaze from one to the other.

“Please have your lunch and come back!”

I was shell-shocked. My eyes widened, locked onto the man in the safari suit. The last few people around me threw their hands up in frustration, turning to each other to mutter complaints. Blood boiled in my veins, pulling my fists tight. I slumped into my seat, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor, the audition sheet still clenched in my hands.

Around me, people moved toward the exit, each expressing their disappointment in their own way. I lifted my gaze from the exit to the other door—the safari suit guy was gone. Now, it was just me, a long row of empty chairs, and the hum of portable fans.

A sudden gust of wind nudged the exit door open, and warm air drifted in, carrying the heat of the afternoon. It felt as if the sun itself was grinning at me, inviting me outside.

After an Hour…

If it weren’t for the kind Anna at the tea shop, I’d have nothing left in my body. I looked around—only a few people remained in the queue. I found an empty seat, pulled a water bottle from my handbag, took a sip, wiped my mouth, and waited, hoping to be called soon.

“Mahalakshmi!”

Someone yelled my name. I gasped and jumped from my seat. A sudden rush of blood brightened my face, and everything around me faded except that door. As I approached, the man in the grey safari suit beckoned me inside. I took slow steps, and the door shut behind me.

A long table sat in the middle of the dimly lit room. Four men were seated. One wore sunglasses—he had to be the director. Another, in his 50s, dressed in a crisp white shirt, seemed to be the producer. A handycam stood mounted on a tripod in front of me, and an X mark was taped onto the floor. The sharp odor of cigarettes filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

The safari suit guy stood behind me. I kept glancing over my shoulder, instinctively keeping a safe distance.

Two minutes passed. The director and producer silently scanned me from head to toe, while the other two remained buried in their phones. The tension in the room thickened. Finally, I decided to break the ice.

“Shall I start, sir?” I asked politely.

“Yes,” one of the men mumbled without even lifting his head.

The safari suit guy adjusted the camera and pointed toward the X. I stepped onto the mark. My hands instinctively smoothed my hair and dress, ensuring everything was in place.

“Ready, sir!” I said.

I closed my eyes for a moment. The scene played out in my head. I could feel the rush of blood, the clarity sharpening my focus. I opened my eyes, ready to prove myself.

“Wait!”

A voice stopped me. It was the producer.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Thirty-three,” I replied.

He leaned back, exhaling. “Don’t you think you’re too old for the role?”

A sharp sting shot through me, but I stood firm.

“Yes, sir, but I can perform and live up to the challenge. I have enough theatre experience to pull off any role.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “But we’re looking for someone young.”

The same old rejection. Young.

My heart sank. A lump formed in my throat. I could feel my eyes welling up, but I stood in silence, waiting for the final blow.

“But…” The producer’s voice softened. “I can help you.”

My face lit up. My eyes widened with hope.

“Shall we…” He hesitated, searching for words. “Shall we meet after the auditions? In my room. We can discuss your prospects.”

The room shrank around me. His voice blurred into muffled noise. I could barely hear anything beyond the pounding in my ears. Sweat beaded on my forehead. A sudden lump choked my throat.

“Mahalakshmi,” he continued. “Is that your name? Take your time. Decide. Take all the time you need. Now, you can go. Call the next one!”

He gestured toward the safari suit guy.

I turned, my gaze fixed on the floor. I didn’t dare look at anyone. Questions swirled in my mind.

Is it just me, or does this happen to everyone?

What is it about me that makes them think I would sell myself for a role in a second-rate movie? Is it my age? My dress? Or is it something else?

So many questions unravel inside my head. I think about my daughter—her future. About all the struggles I have endured over the last ten years, everything I have learned, and the countless hours I have devoted to this craft. What was the purpose of it all?

For a moment, my father’s words echoed in my mind: “You are doomed to fail, and you will fall at my feet, begging.”

I will not fall at his feet.

Is this the end of everything?

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I walked out, my shoulders slumped, my eyes still locked onto the floor. I reached into my handbag and took out my phone, scrolling through my call list until I found Yazhi’s number. I tapped on her contact.

Tring… Tring… Tring… Tring… Tring… Tring… Tring…

No response. She’s probably sleeping. Poor girl.

⸻

Meanwhile…

Yazhi, walking towards her home…

My legs are begging me to stop. I have pushed them too far today—running and walking in tandem. They are about to give up at any moment.

I feel bad for Aarthi; she wanted to spend more time with me. But I’m too scared to stay any longer. Amma will be home soon. Just a few more blocks, and I’ll be back inside the same way I sneaked out.

I kept walking, my fingers clenched around my handbag.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated inside. I hurriedly fumbled through my bag, searching for it, but the ringing stopped before I could reach it. When my eyes landed on the screen, my heart flipped, and my stomach churned.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to pick up the call. She might figure out where I am.

As I tried to slip my phone back into my bag, it slipped from my hands and crashed onto the ground. The cover, keypad, and battery scattered apart.

My heart stopped for a moment.

That was my only source of entertainment when my mom was away. How will I call Aarthi now? Or any of my friends? Instagram, Snapchat… everything was gone.

Mom will be furious if she finds out I broke my phone. Not because it’s broken, but because she’ll have to spend money to fix it. So many thoughts swirled inside my head—until I suddenly felt it.

Someone was watching me.

I took a cautious step back, turning my head slightly to the left, trying to glance over my shoulder.

There was a guy. Tall. Scrawny. With a face like a camel. He quickly looked away when he saw me noticing him. But I was sure of it—he had been watching me.

I tried to recall where I had seen him before, and then it hit me. The theatre. I had definitely seen him there. A chill ran down my spine. I turned forward again, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I quickened my pace, my legs moving on their own. I had to get home. Fast

I began to test my legs again, alternating between running and walking, struggling to breathe. Every time I glanced over my shoulder, the camel-faced guy was still following me. He was so tall that for every one step he took, I had to take four. I knew I had to lose him somewhere. I turned into an alley, took another right, then another, and ended up back on the same street. I couldn’t see him anymore. Maybe he took the bait. I let out a sigh of relief as my heartbeat began to slow down, and for the first time in a while, a small smile crept onto my face.

Who are these guys, anyway?!

Finally, I reached my building. I peeked inside the gate to check if Meena Aunty’s house was open. It was closed. I slowly slid the gate open and prowled up the stairs. Within seconds, I was standing in front of my door. I took a deep breath. I did something impossible today, and I never want to do it again.

I grabbed the key from the flower pot and slid it into the keyhole. The door snapped open. Just as I pushed the door inward, I heard a noise behind me. Maybe it’s Meena Aunty.

Suddenly, a squeaky male voice called out, “Hey!”

A chill ran down my spine. I turned around, and my breath hitched. My heart stopped for a moment, and a lump formed in my throat. Words wouldn’t come out, and my limbs refused to move.

It was the scrawny guy.

He stood a few steps away, grinning, revealing yellowed teeth. His eyes were fixed on me like a hungry wolf’s. An indescribable stench wafted from him.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I’m a friend of your mother’s,” he said with a smirk. “She asked me to check on you. She said she’ll be late.”

I wanted to check if he was telling the truth, but my phone was broken.

I took a cautious step backward. “Okay… Thanks. I’ll be fine.” I moved past the doorway, gripped the door, and tried to shut it.

But before I could close it, he took a quick stride and wedged his foot between the door and the frame.

I gasped. “Look,” I said firmly, “I’m okay. You can leave now. I’ll talk to my mom when she gets here.”

“She won’t be here for another hour. Don’t you know that already?” he said, his smirk unwavering, his gaze locked onto me.

I glanced behind me at the clock. It was just past 4 PM. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, in sync with the ticking of the clock. And then it hit me—he knew I was alone.

Because I had talked about it with Aarthi at the theatre.

He had been following me since I left.

Before I could finish my thought—

A loud thud.

I was thrown backward. He had pushed the door so hard that I flew like a rag doll. My mind went blank. I tried to collect myself from the ground, but before I could even get on my knees, he sprang at me and shoved me down again.

I turned my head, and there he was, straddling me.

I clawed at his face with my nails, but he grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head.

“Amma! Amma!” I screamed.

He clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling my cries.

I thrashed, but he was too heavy. Flashes of my mother flooded my mind, and tears spilled down my cheeks. His hand crept toward my skirt.

I bucked my hips violently, trying to slip away, but his weight bore down on me. My hands were trapped. My screams were smothered.

Then—

A loud thud.

His grip loosened. He collapsed beside me.

Someone stood in the doorway, holding a huge rod. I squinted through my tears. The figure was big enough to block the entire entrance.

It was none other than Meena Aunty. Tears streamed down my face.

Another thud.

She swung the rod at him again. He howled in pain. I scrambled to the wall, my body trembling.

I got up from the floor and ran toward Meena Aunty, hugging her tightly. I knew I was safe now, though my body was still trembling.

“It’s okay, my child,” she whispered, holding me close. Then, she turned around and called for her husband. Within moments, he and a few others came running.

I looked at the scrawny guy lying in his own blood, his yellow teeth now stained red. How could anyone do this to someone?

Meanwhile… Mahalakshmi

It was only a few blocks before I reached home. For the sake of my daughter and myself, I have to take this step.

Tring… Tring… Tring…

It was Kumar.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Maha, you’re very lucky! That producer has never made an offer like this before. I think you should take it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. He really thought he could exploit me—or any woman desperate for success. People like him will always thrive as long as men like that producer breathe in this world.

“Kumar,” I cut off his monologue, my voice steady. “I quit. From you and your cinema. I know what to do next.”

And with that, I hung up.

I stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, painting everything in hues of orange. Around me, people hurried past, caught up in their own lives.

A new beginning awaits me. I will not quit. And I am not alone in this world.