Vanya Kapoor stood in front of one of those mirrors, her sleeves rolled up, hands gently weaving through the silky waves of the film’s lead heroine. Her fingers moved with practiced ease focused, gentle, and quietly confident. She wasn’t just styling hair. She was building control, one strand at a time.
She didn’t need a throne. She just needed this moment.
Just then, stilettos clicked at the door like applause trying to announce itself.
Kohina strode in, her perfume too loud, her heels too sharp. She walked with the air of someone who believed the world was her runway and everyone else was just backstage.
Without asking, she sat beside the heroine, flipping her freshly set hair over one shoulder, and examined herself in the mirror like it owed her a compliment.
“Oh sweetheart,” Kohin
