He turned exactly where he needed to. Left profile, chin slightly lowered. A three-quarter angle that highlighted his jawline. Then straight to the centre cameras. Each move smooth, practised.
He walked toward the press line, the flash of cameras following every step.
First stop. Bollywood Buzz. Prime slot. Maximum visibility.
“Vikram!” the reporter said brightly, pushing her microphone closer. “Early reviews are calling this your best performance so far. What do you have to say?”
He paused for a fraction of a second, just long enough to look thoughtful.
“If I’m not growing with every film, then I’m not doing my job properly,” he replied with a warm smile. “But honestly, this credit belongs to our director. He pushed all of us harder than ever.”
The answer was perfect. Grateful, but confident. Humble.
“There are rumors about a Khanna family biopic in the works. Any truth to that?”
Dangerous territory. His father would have a stroke.
“My family prefers spreadsheets to spotlights.” He laughed, deflecting with charm. “But never say never. The right script could change anyone’s mind.”
Safe. Playful. Non-committal.
“And after so much success,” the reporter pressed on, “what challenges are left for you?”
Vikram leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice just a bit. Not enough to be inappropriate. Just enough to make the camera catch the moment.
“There’s always something new to learn,” he replied. “Every role pushes me to discover a different part of myself. That’s what keeps this exciting.”
A commotion erupted at the carpet entrance. Camera flashes intensified, creating a lightning storm.
Riya Sharma had arrived.
She emerged from her car in a gold gown that caught every light, transforming her into a walking flame. Her hair swept up to showcase diamond earrings. She moved gracefully, each step measured for maximum camera impact.
They spotted each other at the same moment. Professional respect. And the activation of their public facade.
Vikram met her halfway down the carpet. Air kisses—left cheek, right cheek. His hand found the small of her back automatically. Her palm rested on his forearm. They turned toward the cameras in perfect synchronization.
The photographers went feral.
“Gorgeous couple!”
“Vikram! Riya! Look this way!”
“When’s the wedding?”
They shifted positions with the practiced ease of dancers who knew the choreography by heart. His arm around her waist. Her hand on his chest. Both smiling with just the right amount ofwarmth. Not too much to look desperate. Just enough to keep the rumors alive.
“Are the engagement rumors true?”
“Any wedding plans to announce?”
“How long have you two been together?”
Vikram avoided the question with practiced ease. “We’re here to celebrate the film tonight. Riya’s performance is extraordinary. You’ll all see for yourselves in about twenty minutes.”
They moved ahead slowly, stopping where required, turning when called, offering quick quotes to familiar media houses.
Smile. Pose. Step forward. Repeat.