The Wrong Woman

17. Mouna

I gasped as he shared that piece of information with me. I—I mean, Rani came onto him?! From the way he always catered to me and made me feel like I was a Goddess and he was a servant, it seemed like he was the reason they had gotten married.

Married.

It was very strange to me. I did believe that these two beautiful people were married to each other, as it was only natural for them to be so, but there was something off about it. He was kind, yes, but it felt as if he was distant. Was he being thoughtful or suspicious? I couldn't answer.

"I thought—"

"That I was the one that made the first move?" His lop-sided smile made me stare in awe. "I wish I could say that. You were so confident that you walked up to me, asked me to dance and then grabbed my number. I probably shouldn't even be telling you this, but I was instantly smitten with you." His face softened. Now, it held a wistful expression, as if he was reliving a moment in his past. I couldn't help but loosen my shoulders; how badly must Rani be missing him, wherever she is? And how badly must he be hurting? It must be difficult for him to be dealing with who he thinks is Rani with amnesia when in fact it's a completely different person.

The expression on his face had disappeared now, replaced with a deep frown that etched lines deep within his smooth, golden skin. "Dhruv?" I said, the word rolling off my tongue like it had been numbed. I wasn't used to calling a man so casually by his first name. I never had the time for that. Well, except for Raj but I didn't think he counted much. Most of the time, I feared the name itself.

He blinked and in an instant, that expression, that glimpse that he had given me of a deep, dark pain had gone. In its wake was something kind and gentle. Had I just imagined it?

"I'll try and remember everything quickly so we can go back to being happy again," I said, eagerly. And that would mean trying to find a way back.

Somehow.

Dhruv's face clouded over but before I could comment on it, he said, "Let's get you to work, first."

***

He made me put on a black pencil skirt and a pretty pink satin blouse that allowed the humid air to escape and some wind to expel any dampness that was beginning to settle in as we headed in the direction of Rani's workplace.

I wasn't looking forward to this part. What was I going to do? How was I going to pretend like everything was okay? Couldn't I get off by telling the boss that I had amnesia? Medical certificate could help and I could get away with it!

But how long was I going to use that excuse? When it was clear that it wasn't amnesia and the memories never really came back, I was going to have to come here anyway.

"I'll come inside with you," Dhruv said as we got out of the rickshaw and to a building that seemed to touch the clouds. It looked as if three houses had been glued together; thousands of windows scattered horizontally across each floor—and from counting, there were fifteen—with the letters ITNN placed at the very top in white.

"Maybe that isn't such a good idea," I said. It was a very good idea but having Dhruv go inside with me was only going to rouse suspicion. I didn't want to bring attention to myself more than I already had and ruin Rani's opportunity. And even though acting like I was a new employee lost on her first day was worse than having my husband guide me inside, I was willing to take that risk if it meant no one would ask me any questions.

"You sure? It's a pretty big building."

"Do you know what floor I work on?"

"The second floor where the studio room is. I forgot where exactly it was but say you have a bad sense of direction and they'll help."

"Wouldn't they recognise me?"

"Probably but asking isn't going to hurt."

"Dhruv, I-I can't do this."

He stood in front of me and this time, he didn't touch me. But he did bend down a little to peer into my eyes, his warm, soft brown orbs gazing into my own as if taking my burden for himself to bear.

"You'll be fine. Memory loss or not, you're Rani. Take things slow and remember, there's no harm in asking for help."

He was right. I wasn't Rani per se, but I was in Rani's body. I could be and act like whoever—anyone that wasn't me and people would buy it. I didn't have to convince anyone that I was confident when in everyone else's eyes, I was Rani.

Confident and cool.

I gave him an awkward smile and left, feeling my forehead dampen as soon as the building loomed closer and closer. I walked up the white marble steps and in through the heavy doors that seemed to fight against me and the air conditioned building.

Everyone turned to look at me. Some gaped, some smiled, some looked away almost instantly.

Was I that—oh wait, I was Rani. I shook my head. I somehow kept forgetting that. How? I don't know. It was like I was beginning to settle, even though I had done nothing to feel so at ease. I straightened my shoulders and kept my head held high, exactly as I'd seen her do that time in the cafe.

I'm Rani, I'm Rani, I kept chanting as I strolled over to the escalators. I caught a glimpse of myself from the mirrors once the doors opened and I nearly choked on my own saliva; I was beautiful and could rival a supermodel.

I meant I was in the body of someone incredibly beautiful. That was all it took to make me feel like I was on top of the world. As I exited the escalators, I found my newfound confidence draining when I realised I didn't know which way to go. The walls were painted red and the hall led both left and right, each extending to other areas of the floor I didn't know.

A woman with a mic set and an oversized blue sweater with white hearts rushed past and I followed. "Excuse me, miss!"

She whipped around as if she hadn't expected someone to speak to her. Her large brown eyes widened. "Rani? What are you doing here?" What am I doing here? Was I in the wrong place? Did Dhruv accidentally give me the wrong information? Oh, no. I was going to get Rani fired—"You should be in the studio room! Tara ma'am is seriously mad. She's been waiting for you for ten minutes."

"I'm not very good with directions. Can you point me to where the studio room is again?" I laughed for good measure. She gave me a look that told me she didn't understand what was wrong with me before pointing to my right.

"Good luck," she mumbled before rushing away. I gulped. It sounded like this Tara boss was worse than Raj. I didn't think I would ever say those words in my life.

I came to a door that was painted red that said in clear white letters: TV STUDIO and then a small plaque lit in bright red that said 'On Air'. I had never felt so silly for asking for help in my life, but I supposed it was better than wandering around myself. Exactly as Dhruv had said.

I poked my head in to see that I was in the room separated from the main ongoings; a green screen and a lady and a man behind a table and a bunch of crew with cameras and lights set up. None of them were speaking, only looking over papers and getting makeup done. The room I was about to step in was separated by a glass window that oversaw everything. There were a panel of different coloured lights and screens and a woman standing with her arms behind her back, blazer tight against her curves.

And she was glaring at me.