"What do you mean you do not want anything with him?" Sharin said.

Deepika tiptoed out of the lehenga while the dress girl held it like it was living. She was wearing long trunks and a bra; even though she had had a successful career as a supermodel that had done away with most of her inhibitions and bodily shame, she still made a point to wear long trunks underneath her costumes, and no panties or thongs, simply for the reason that the film making industry, however professional and opulent, trailed behind fashion when it came to costume ethics; clothes in fashion shows were considerably cleaner and fabric a lot easier on models' skins, which was too much to ask for in films. All they cared about were the looks and not comfort, it was the actor's job to look comfortable.

On top of that, if she were to lose her dress to a loose stitch or a tear in the poor fabric on the set it would lead to a major embarrassment. Film sets are crowded with people not doing anything but ogling at the actresses, who for the most part are the only females on the set. Even the green rooms are different. It is one thing to be naked in a fashion show green room and completely different in a film studio green room, there is no real privacy. So, as a rule, Deepika stripped only to the extent she willed before the camera.

"I think it's time now it ended," she said as the dress girl immaculately lifted the lehenga by the waist and set it on a circular show-hanger. Deepika would have to wear it again after the first edit and she was pretty sure she will have to throw a tantrum to get it cleaned. Another girl hung a bathroom gown over Deepika's shoulders which she clutched to fight the killer air-conditioning. She checked for rashes on her waist thinking internally what Sharin would ask next. She had been volatile lately and Sharin didn't appreciate that.

"What are you even talking about? Just now I placed two love-bird articles in The Times."

"So? I can't live by the vines, Sharin," Deepika shunned her.

"And what about yesterday, then? What was that all about? You realize what would happen if Shahid mentions that in some interview?"

The dress girl gasped in shock, which caught Sharin's attention. She knew what she was thinking. The only thing anyone ever imagined to exist between an actor and an actress was sex, even the industry insiders. She must have imagined Shahid and Deepika in poses that suited her sexual fantasies, probably even a threesome with Ranveer included.

Had Deepika been a politician or a male cricketer, it could have divulged and erupted into a full-blown controversy, but Sharin was aware of the fact that no Bollywood news finds its way to the tabloids unless someone pushes it.

She pulled Deepika aside anyway for the sake of her professional reputation, she was pulling her track pants over the trunks with full attention in an attempt to downplay Sharin's questions completely oblivious to the dress girl and her fantasy ridden face. She would change into something more comfortable once she gets to the privacy of the vanity van.

"You are taking Shahid seriously?" Sharin continued. "That man doesn't even know what he says half the time. Have you seen his interviews? He is so synthetic."

"It is not about him...," Deepika broke off while speaking and dropped the gown off of her shoulders. Sharin adjusted her hair as she slithered into a crop top.

"You said you loved Ranveer. I mean, I don't have anything to do with it, but it hasn't even been 24 hours, Deepika."

Deepika felt extremely embarrassed. She looked at Sharin with pleading eyes and said, "I don't think he respects me."

And that was that. Sharin's expression suddenly changed from accusing to that of understanding.

Having led a ruthless professional life that frequently ran over its counterpart, Sharin knew of the exclusive binaries a woman had to choose from. It was not just the usual 'family vs. profession' cliché movies liked to play on, but a deeper conflict of 'love vs. respect'. You had to carefully weigh in all factors and gauge love and respect and the baggage they came with, all at the risk of being labeled as the cold calculative woman in a society that liked to worship its women as the personification of sacrifice.

She nodded with a sigh. Deepika was pleasantly surprised at how easy it had been to make Sharin see her point. She saw Sharin for the first time, she was a woman, a human, who thought about things other than public relations and tabloids and contracts. Why didn't she try this earlier? She might have lost Ranveer but had most certainly found a friend.

She pulled her hair back in a bun and gave Sharin a tired smile. Her arm, as if on its own went over Sharin's shoulders, without a hint of the awkwardness of an employee and an employer, and drew her to Deepika's body without effort.

They walked together to the studio's gate where Sharin pulled herself away for professional distance. Deepika smiled again.

"I think you should give him another chance."

Deepika stopped short in her track and looked back at Sharin. "You think so?" she said.

Sharin took a moment to think because Deepika was not just a client now. She was a companion in the fight against the world, and she wanted to know if she felt Ranveer could be on their side.

"I do," Sharin said.

Deepika smiled. Probably she wanted to hear that from someone because her brain couldn't decide for itself.

She nodded and walked off.