The first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains of the cramped flat, casting a soft glow across the room as Ishaan stirred from a restless sleep. The weight of the previous day's tensions with Lajja and Misahay lingered, but a quiet determination pulsed within him. His phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, the screen illuminating with Neha's name at 6:45 AM. Careful not to wake Ari, he slipped out of bed, padding into the narrow hallway to answer, the cool tiles grounding him.
"Hello?" His voice was rough with sleep, but alert.
"Good morning, Ishaan—it's Neha!" Her tone crackled with barely contained excitement, cutting through the early morning stillness. "I've got great news! TOABH Talent Management reviewed your pictures and the YouTube videos we sent. They're over the moon and want to work with you—face hidden, just as you prefer. This agency is a big player—two decades in the industry, known for securing contracts with top clothing brands, car shows, advertisements, and fashion runways. They're all-rounders, treating their models well with solid, lucrative deals. Your masked 'Modern Ninja' persona caught their eye, especially for a youth clothing line with a techno aesthetic—perfect match. They're proposing a test shoot today to kick things off. Let's meet them to sort out the details."
Ishaan leaned against the wall, his mind racing. The prospect of legitimate income—beyond YouTube's unpredictable flow—stirred a flicker of hope. A lakh a month for Madhura and Niti, plus this… it could change everything. He kept his voice steady. "Fine. When?"
"Eleven o'clock sharp at TOABH Talent Management," Neha replied, her efficiency shining through. She rattled off an address in Andheri, a bustling hub of Mumbai's creative scene. "I'll meet you there. Bring your A-game—they're eager to see the real deal."
"Alright," Ishaan said, ending the call with a decisive nod. He glanced at the clock—barely an hour to prepare. The flat was still silent, Ari's soft breathing audible from the bedroom. He moved quietly, splashing water on his face in the tiny bathroom, the mirror reflecting a man on the cusp of something bigger.
Back in the bedroom, Ari stirred as he gathered his things. "Early call?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she propped herself on an elbow, her hair a messy halo.
"Work stuff," Ishaan replied, keeping it vague for now—too early to jinx it. "I'll drop you at the office, then handle it. Remember the celebration? I'll pick you up early today if this goes well."
Her face softened into a sleepy smile, the promise lifting her spirits. "Can't wait. Good luck." She dressed quickly in her office attire—a simple salwar kameez—her movements brisk despite the hour. They slipped out together, the bike roaring to life under the pale dawn sky. The ride to her office was a quiet dance through waking streets, the city's pulse slow but steady. Ari clung to him, her warmth a contrast to the cool morning air, and at the gate, she dismounted with a final encouraging nod. "Nail it. See you later."
Ishaan revved the engine, the sound a declaration as he peeled away toward Andheri. The clock ticked to 10:50 AM as he navigated the traffic, the glass-and-steel facade of TOABH Talent Management looming ahead. He parked the bike with care, its chrome glinting in the sunlight, and stepped onto the pavement, adjusting his posture. The building buzzed with creative energy—models posing for test shots in the lobby, staff hurrying with portfolios, the air thick with ambition.
Neha waited at the entrance, her baggy clothes and glasses a stark contrast to her sharp professionalism. Beside her stood Simi, her kurta fluttering in the breeze, her face breaking into a wide grin as she spotted him. "Ishaan!" she called, rushing over with an enthusiasm that turned heads. "So glad you made it! I don't have a stake in the talent world, but Dad's got connections. I'd love to help you land a better contract—pull some strings if I can."
Ishaan managed a rare smile, the support warming him. "Thanks, Simi. Means a lot."
Neha stepped forward, adjusting her cap. "Let's head in. They're expecting us—Priya Sharma, the Department Head, is keen to meet you." Together, the trio crossed the threshold, the cool air of the lobby washing over them. The receptionist glanced up, nodding as Neha flashed a visitor pass. They moved toward the elevators, the hum of the agency's heartbeat—clicking cameras, murmured pitches—enveloping them. For Ishaan, each step felt like crossing into uncharted territory, the mask of 'Modern Ninja' about to take on a new dimension.