Read The Replacement Heroine :: Chapter 4

By the time Aarav and I stepped out of the hotel and into the cool night air, I felt like I had been wrung dry, inside and out. My feet ached in those ridiculous heels, my scalp throbbed from the wig clips, and every nerve in my body buzzed from hours of pretending to be someone I wasn't.

The valet pulled up the car, bowing slightly as he opened the door for me.

For once, I didn't resent the special treatment women received.

I sank into the seat with a long, shaky exhale, letting my eyes fall shut. The muffled thump of the party still echoed faintly outside-music, laughter, flashes of camera lights-but it all felt miles away now.

"Good job, Sam. Thank you," Aarav said after a moment, his voice low.

I opened my eyes slowly.

"You've created a bigger problem for yourself," I muttered. "I don't know how you're going to handle Khatri. It's not one, it's two films now."

The memory of the announcement replayed in my head like a badly edited movie.

Earlier, when VK had clapped loudly and commanded the entire hall's attention-silencing conversations, freezing waiters mid-step-the mood had changed instantly. Drama had seeped into the air like fog in a thriller film.

He had called the producer Raunak Sharma first, then announced Kabir Khan as the male lead. That brought a wave of cheers from the crowd. Kabir strutted to the front like he owned the place, flashing his signature grin.

Then came my turn.

"Sameera Mehrotra, The Heroine"

A few gasps. Surprised murmurs. Claps.

A sea of eyes pierced into me as I forced myself to walk forward-hips swaying, smile bright, every step a lie-and stood beside VK as he proudly announced that this would be one of the most expensive productions in Bollywood's recent history.

Then came the congratulatory greetings.

Misha had squealed and hugged me tightly-her soft breasts pressing into the silicone ones glued to my chest.

That made my body react embarrassingly, and I had to force my mind to think of taxes and overdue bills.

"I'm really happy for you, Sami," she had whispered, squeezing my arm. She seemed to care genuinely for Sameera.

Then came Kabir's hug. Warm. Too close. Holding on a breath too long.

A hint of intimacy I did not appreciate.

And Raghav Bedi-the creep-held my hand in a clammy grip, stroking my palm like we were sharing some kind of secret.

"Wow, Sam," he smirked. "Look at that... my film has brought you good luck."

It had taken all my strength not to yank my hand away and dip it into sanitiser.

Now, leaning back in the quiet of the car, exhaustion washed over me in waves.

Aarav spoke again, his confidence returning. "Don't worry. My detectives have traced Sameera. Once I find her, I'll convince her to come back."

"Great," I said flatly. "Because I'm done playing Sameera."

"Of course," he assured me. "Your remaining money is at my place. Take it and do whatever you wish." He smiled. "But honestly... you were perfect tonight. I told you you're a better actor than your sister."

"Bullshit," I muttered, shutting my eyes again.

When I opened them, we were already pulling into the basement parking of Aarav and Sameera's apartment building. I must have dozed off.

The building's lobby was softly lit with warm gold lights, the kind that make everything look two shades richer. Their 7th-floor apartment was a spacious, tastefully decorated 4BHK-marble floors, abstract paintings, a sculpted figurine near the entrance, mood lighting.

Sameera's taste... though I doubted she had time to pick any of this.

"Make yourself comfortable, Sam," Aarav said. "Stay the night. You can leave in the morning."

I nodded. It was too late to go home anyway.

"I want to change," I said quickly. "Do you have anything for me to wear?"

"Of course." Aarav gestured toward a room. "Guest bedroom is there. Freshen up if you want. I'll bring clothes."

A few minutes later, he returned with a loose round-neck T-shirt and pajamas.

"These are Sameera's," he said. "Should fit you. My size would drown you."

The fabric was soft and the pattern leaned feminine.

Just for a few hours, I reminded myself.

"You change. I'll get your money," he added, heading to his bedroom.

I closed the door of the guest room and let out a long breath.

Then came the tedious undoing.

I peeled off the dress. With a wet tissue, I scrubbed off layers of makeup-foundation, contour, eyeliner, lipstick-watching Sameera's face melt away, revealing mine underneath.

Then the wig. My scalp sighed with relief as I unclipped it, my natural thick, wavy hair springing out.

Next came the bra... and the battle with the straps. I twisted, tugged, cursed, and finally freed myself.

But the fake breasts remained stuck.

I splashed water over them-nothing.

The glue refused to budge.

"Damn it," I whispered, remembering Jyotsna's warning. Water and sweat-proof glue.

That meant... I was stuck with these breasts till morning.

Great.

I put on the T-shirt and pajamas and walked out.

Aarav stared-and laughed softly. "You forgot to remove the boobies."

"Can't," I grunted. "Need that special solution from Jyotsna's parlour."

"Oh." He chuckled. "No wig, no makeup, but you still look like a young girl."

"Shut up, Aarav," I snapped. "Where's the cash?"

"The remaining 5 lakhs. In that bag.," he said, pointing at the sofa.

I picked it up, nodded a curt good night, and headed for the guest bedroom.

For me, this whole "Sameera" chapter was done. Over.

Now I just had to figure out how to fix my life-and my debts.

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The moment I lay down, exhaustion-mental as much as physical-swallowed me whole. The bed felt impossibly soft, the pillow cool, and within minutes, sleep dragged me under.

But the sleep wasn't peaceful.

I found myself in a studio-spotlights blazing, cameras rolling. I was me... but dressed in a shimmering lehenga... no, a revealing chiffon saree... no, a glamorous sequinned gown. My outfits kept changing as if some deranged costume designer was working overtime inside my subconscious.

Then Kabir Khan emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Smouldering. Shirt slightly unbuttoned.

He cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing my cheek in a slow, sensual stroke.

"Sam..." he whispered, leaning closer.

I stepped back, heart hammering, terrified of what he might do next.

And then-his face twisted.

His jaw broadened. His eyes shrank into beady slits.

Kabir morphed-into Raghav Bedi.

Sweaty forehead. Oily smile.

His clammy hand stroked my cheek.

"Sweetheart... missed me?"

I jolted awake with a strangled gasp.

Aarav was sitting beside my bed.

I sat up, startled.

"Relax! It's me," he said, raising both palms. "You were thrashing in your sleep. I came to wake you. I have a meeting soon, and you need to leave before I go."

I wiped my face, still breathing hard. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to ten."

Damn. "You should have woken me up earlier." I pushed the blanket aside. "I'll get ready and go. Can you lend me some clothes?"

Aarav nodded and walked out. A minute later, he returned with his own T-shirt and jeans.

I tried the T-shirt.

It looked like I was inside a tent.

His jeans? They could fit two of me.

"Damn. I can't wear these," I said flatly.

He sighed, already expecting this. "I thought so. Wait."

He disappeared again and returned with more clothing-this time from Sameera's wardrobe.

A loose, oversized cotton T-shirt with a floral pattern, and navy-blue jeans that looked slightly feminine but passable.

"These should work. These are the most gender-neutral casuals from Sami's wardrobe," he said. "The T-shirt is loose enough to hide your... er... situation."

"Uh... do you want any... er... innerwear?" he asked, pointing at my chest.

I looked down. The nipples of my fake boobs were poking sharply through the T-shirt I had slept in.

I grimaced, embarrassed to the core. "No. The loose T-shirt should do."

I was done wearing bras for life.

Five minutes later, I emerged wearing Sameera's oversized T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt hung low enough to disguise the stuck-on breasts.

"Better," Aarav said approvingly. "Let me book you an Uber?"

"I'll do it, thanks," I said.

We exchanged a short goodbye, and I stepped out-desperate to return to my normal life.

The Uber arrived quickly. As I sat in the backseat, the driver looked back and said, "Madam, share the OTP, please."

I froze.

Madam.

MADAM?!

My jaw clenched.

I muttered the OTP that had arrived on my phone.

I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror.

Even though my hair was short, the facial treatment Jyotsna had given me yesterday-and the tweaked eyebrows-did give me a feminine look.

Damn. I'd have to ask Jyotsna to fix these eyebrows.

The journey itself was uneventful.

The morning sunlight filtering through the window felt too bright, too honest-mocking the absurdity of my night.

As we reached my apartment building, the driver turned and said cheerfully:

"Please give me five stars, Madam!"

Ugh. I felt like punching him in the eyes.

If this disguise didn't come off soon, I'd lose my mind.

Unlocking my flat door felt like stepping into freedom. The familiar musty smell, the old sofa, the ever-present mess-everything felt like salvation.

I sat on the sofa, dropping the bag of cash beside me.

Ten lakh rupees in one night.

(1 million is 10 lakhs in Indian numbering)

With the nearly fifty-lakh debt looming over me, this was the biggest step forward I'd taken in months.

I flopped onto the sofa, letting my body melt into the cushions. Finally... finally something was going right.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I froze.

Who the hell-?

The knocking grew louder. More urgent.

I got up slowly and cracked open the door.

Three rough-looking men stared at me with cold, assessing eyes. Thick necks. Tattoos. One had a scar running from eyebrow to lip.

My stomach dropped.

Before I could speak, they barged in, pushing the door wide open.

"Where is he?" the leader barked, scanning the room.

"Where?!"

My mouth went dry. My brain scrambled.

One of them grabbed my arm roughly.

"Girl," he snarled, his breath hot and foul, "where is that motherfucker Sameer?"

My heart hammered so loudly I swore the neighbours could hear.

These were Bhai's men-the underworld don whose money I had invested in crypto.

How I had ended up with his money is a story for another day. But that money had evaporated in the market crash.

I swallowed hard and forced my voice to shake-to sound scared and feminine.

"H-he isn't here. He's gone to Hyderabad. Business work. I'm his... younger sister."

The lie slid out before I could think.

All three men looked me up and down. Their eyes paused-lingered-on the two round shapes pushing against Sameera's T-shirt, the nipples making a visible impression.

Heat crawled up my neck.

I should've worn a damn bra, like Aarav had suggested.

The scarred man smirked. "Sister, huh?"

His eyes dragged over me again.

I grabbed the bag of cash-the hard earned money that Aarav had given me -and thrust it toward them.

"He told me to give this to you," I said softly.

They snatched it.

The leader leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell Sameer this is not enough. If he doesn't return Bhai's money..."

His gaze travelled over my body again.

"...we'll take everything in this house."

His eyes locked shamelessly on my chest.

"Including you."

My blood turned to ice.

Without another word, they walked out, slamming the door behind them.

I stood frozen, heart pounding, sweat dripping down my back.

When I finally managed to breathe again, I locked the door, bolted it, and collapsed to the floor.

That was too close.

If they had touched me-if they had found out-

I didn't even want to think about it.

I pressed my palms to my face.

Underworld at my door.

Five lakhs gone.

Fake breasts still glued.

My situation.

A man in woman's clothing, trying not to get bashed up...

But at least, for now-

I was safe.

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That's the end of Chapter 4. Do let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Comment freely. Drop a like if you enjoyed reading it.

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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.

No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.