By evening, everyone except Sidharth looked like they were on edge, just waiting for exam results to drop.
Alia had checked her phone so many times that even Varun couldn’t help but chime in, “Checking it won’t make the collections come in any faster.”
Alia glanced up from her screen, annoyance written all over her face.
“Shut up.”
Varun flashed a grin before turning back to his own phone.
Alia shot him a look that made Varun finally meet her gaze.
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“You just checked yours.”
“I was checking the time.”
“There’s a clock right behind Karan.”
Varun quickly glanced at the wall and, sure enough, there was a clock ticking away behind Karan.
“I prefer digital,” he shrugged.
“Your phone isn’t even showing the time.
You’re reading messages.
Is it from that model—”
“I can multitask,” Varun cut her off.
“Both of you, just be quiet.”
Karan Johar didn’t raise his voice, but the two newcomers fell silent—at least for about fifteen seconds.
They were all gathered in Karan’s office at Dharma, late on the first full day after Student of the Year hit theaters.
The vibe had shifted dramatically from the chaotic weeks of promotion.
Up until yesterday, everything had been just talk.
Trailers could get rave reviews, songs could top the charts, promotional events could pack colleges with excited fans, and journalists could make all sorts of predictions about success.
But none of that sold a ticket.
Today, people actually had tickets in hand.
Outside this office, exhibitors were reporting occupancy rates, distributors were crunching numbers, and figures were flying through phone calls and industry networks long before the newspapers would catch up.
And three young actors were learning just how uncomfortable waiting could really be.
Alia stood up, sat back down, and then stood up again.
Sid watched her, bemused.
“You’re making me dizzy.”
She shot him a glare.
“How can you just sit there, so relaxed?”
Sid was sprawled comfortably on one end of the sofa, sipping his tea.
“Like this.”
“Seriously, how are you so relaxed?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Our first movie just hit theaters today!”
“I noticed.”
“What if nobody shows up to watch it?”
“People are definitely watching it.”
“And how do you know that?”
Sid took another sip, recalling the film, its box office predictions, and the three major careers it had already launched.
No matter what people might say about the film later, it was far from being forgotten.
He couldn’t exactly share all that, so he just shrugged.
“I know how good our film is.”
Alia blinked in surprise, and Varun turned to him as well.
“We’ve seen it,” Sid continued smoothly.
“We’ve watched how people reacted to the trailer and the songs.
Karan knows what he’s doing.”
Karan glanced up from the papers on his desk.
Sid flashed a smile.
“So I’m confident it’ll do well.”
Karan’s lips curled into a subtle grin, a hint of pride shining through.
“Good.
Keep that confidence.”
Alia turned back to Karan.
“You’re not worried at all?”
“Of course I’m worried.”
“You don’t look worried.”
“I’ve had years to practice.”
Varun nodded sagely.
“The botox is doing a great job of hiding your expressions.”
Karan slowly shifted his gaze toward him.
Alia stifled a laugh, Sid focused on his tea, and Varun burst into laughter at his own joke.
“Shut up, Varun,” Karan replied dryly.
That sent Sid into a fit of laughter.
Varun pointed at him, feigning outrage.
“He laughed!”
“I can fire him too,” Karan shot back without missing a beat.
“The film’s already out!”
Karan narrowed his eyes, and Varun’s grin faded.
“Sorry.”
Alia burst into laughter, and for a brief moment, the heavy tension lifted.
But then her phone buzzed on the table.
She snatched it up right away, only to find it was nothing urgent.
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Sid watched her with a gentle smile.
“Come here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sit.”
“I am sitting.”
“You’re kind of hovering.”
Alia glanced down, realizing she was perched on the very edge of the cushion.
Sid shifted over to make room, and she settled in next to him.
Almost immediately, her knee started bouncing nervously.
Sid placed his hand on her knee.
“Hey, stop that.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re worried for no reason.”
“Easy for you to say,” she replied softly, turning to face him.
“What if they don’t like me?”
There was no hint of playful drama in her voice now.
Sid studied her closely.
“People,” she said, swallowing hard.
“What if they think I’m awful?”
That was a different concern than box office numbers.
Sid got it right away.
Alia’s last name might open doors, attract media attention, and draw an initial crowd to the theaters, but it couldn’t guarantee that those people would actually enjoy her performance.
He gave her knee a reassuring squeeze before pulling his hand back.
“Then you just get better.”
Alia frowned.
“Is that all?”
“What else is there?
If you’re not great, work on it.
If you are, keep improving anyway.”
Varun nodded from the opposite sofa, clearly impressed.
“That sounded like something Barry would say.”
Sid chuckled.
“Maybe.”
Alia studied Sid’s face for a moment longer, her shoulders relaxing a bit as the idea sank in.
Then Varun piped up, “If they hate me, I’m changing my last name.”
Sid turned to him.
“To what?”
Varun thought for a second.
“Kapoor.”
Alia grabbed a cushion and tossed it at him.
“There are already too many of those!”
Varun caught it with ease.
“Exactly.
I’ll just blend in.”
“Varun Kapoor sounds awful.”
“Sidharth Kapoor?”
Sid shook his head.
“No way.”
“Alia Kapoor?”
Alia was about to jump in with an argument when the landline on Karan’s desk rang, cutting her off.
Everything froze.
Even Karan sprang into action, grabbing the receiver on the second ring.
“Hello?”
The room went completely silent.
Sid watched Karan’s expression intently.
Next to him, Alia clutched his forearm tightly, her grip almost painful.
He glanced down at her fingers, then back up at her face, but she was too absorbed in the moment to notice.
Across the room, Varun had completely dropped his act of nonchalance.
“Right,” Karan said into the phone, and a heavy pause hung in the air.
“Bombay?” Another pause.
“Delhi?”
His face was a mask of neutrality.
Infuriatingly neutral.
“Okay.”
Then, a slight smirk appeared at the corner of Karan’s mouth.
Sid caught it first.
Karan asked one last question, listened intently, and replied, “Fine.
Send me the complete breakdown when you have it.” He hung up the phone.
The air was thick with tension; no one dared to breathe.
Karan turned his gaze slowly to the three of them.
Alia leaned in, unable to contain herself.
“Well?”
Karan placed his hands neatly on the desk.
“The first-day estimate is in.”
“How much?”
Karan looked at Varun, then Sid, then Alia, deliberately stretching the silence.
Alia’s eyes widened with impatience.
“Karan!” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“What?”
“Spit it out!”
“I’m getting to it.”
“No, you’re doing that dramatic director thing again.”
Varun pointed at her.
“She’s right.
My heart can’t take this.”
Finally, Karan broke into a smile.
“Seven.”
Silence enveloped the room.
Alia frowned, confused.
“Seven what?”
Sid let out a short laugh, fully aware of what it meant.
“Seven crores,” Karan clarified.
Alia and Varun stared in disbelief.
Karan’s grin widened into a full-blown smile.
“Approximately seven crores on day one.”
“Is that good?” Alia asked, still trying to wrap her head around it.
Karan looked genuinely taken aback.
“For a film starring three absolute newcomers?” He stood up from his desk, excitement bubbling over.
“It’s fantastic.”
Alia’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“Oh my God!”
She launched herself at Sid, who barely had time to set his tea down on the side table before she wrapped her arms around his neck, almost sending him tumbling back into the cushions.
“Seven crores!”
Sid chuckled and pulled her in closer.
“I heard.”
“Seven!”
“I know!”
Varun suddenly leaped to his feet with a triumphant roar.
“YES!” He thrust both fists into the air, then, realizing he needed someone to share the moment with, he turned to Karan, arms wide open.
Karan walked right past him.
“What—”
Instead, Karan pulled Sid into a hearty embrace.
Varun stood there, arms still outstretched, feeling a bit left out.
Sid laughed over Karan’s shoulder at Varun’s mock hurt expression.
Karan stepped back, holding Sid by the shoulders, then turned to Alia and Varun.
“Congratulations,” Karan said, his tone softening and radiating warmth.
“All three of you.”
Varun slowly lowered his arms.
“Do I get a hug or what?”
“Come here,” Karan laughed, pulling Varun in.
Alia joined them, and for a few chaotic seconds, the four of them were a tangled mess in a group hug right in the middle of the office.
Karan finally playfully pushed them apart.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough.”
Alia was practically glowing, while Varun looked a bit dazed.
Sid felt an unexpected rush of emotion swell in his chest.
He had known the numbers ahead of time.
That was the strange part—he was aware the film wouldn’t flop.
But knowing the stats from a distant past and experiencing the reality of the moment were two completely different things.
Seven crores was no longer just a number from an old article.
It represented lakhs of real people who had walked into theaters today, bought tickets, and watched his face on that giant screen.
And tomorrow, even more would follow.
Karan beamed at them with pride.
“You guys are Bollywood stars now.”
Sid couldn’t help but smile.
Later that night, when Sid called his family, he could hear his mother’s tears.
They weren’t loud sobs, and he knew she’d probably deny it later, but he caught her discreetly wiping away a tear when she thought he wasn’t looking.
“Seven crores?” Rimma asked, needing to confirm.
“First day, Ma.”
“All yours?”
Sid burst into laughter.
“No, Ma.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment was palpable.
Sushant, lounging next to Sid in their living room, doubled over with laughter.
Sunil shook his head from the screen.
“That’s not how box office numbers work, Rimma.”
“I know that!”
“You just asked him.”
“I was joking!”
“You weren’t,” Sunil teased back.
Rimma shot a glare at her husband, prompting Sid to jump in.
“It just means the film had a fantastic opening.”
His mother’s attention snapped back.
“Very well?”
“Very well.”
“Good!” she said, her face lighting up.
Back at the apartment, it felt a bit cramped with his parents in town for the release week, but the warmth made it cozy.
Vidyut was still away on a shoot, and Sushant had just finished his latest TV gig, leaving him temporarily out of work.
But that didn’t stop Sushant from celebrating Sid’s box office success like it was his own victory.
Sushant threw his hands up in excitement.
“Party time!
We need to celebrate!”
Sid raised an eyebrow.
“No way.
I’m broke.”
“Seven crores, dude!”
“None of that money is in my bank account.”
“Who cares about that!”
“I haven’t even received the last part of my debut cheque yet.”
Sushant looked utterly betrayed.
“You’re a lead film star and you’re still broke?”
“Yep.”
“Useless industry,” Sushant declared, deadpan.
Sid chuckled.
“Once my cheque clears, I’ll throw you a party.”
Sushant pointed a finger at him.
“You better promise.”
Sunil watched the two of them with a quiet smile, his expression softening as he turned to Sid.
“I’m really happy for you, Sid.”
There was no hint of teasing in his father’s tone now.
“Keep thriving,” Sunil added softly.
Sid felt a lump in his throat as he replied, “I’ll try, Papa.”
“Don’t just try,” Sunil gently corrected him, his gaze unwavering.
“Work.”
Sid grinned, feeling a sense of stability.
“Okay.”
Just then, his phone buzzed in his lap.
It was a text from Reshma: Don’t get too carried away.
Call me tomorrow morning at 8 AM.
Sid chuckled to himself.
Moments later, another message came through, this time from Shraddha: Congrats, future superstar 🙂 I saw the trade numbers.
Just don’t show up on set with an attitude.
Sid couldn’t help but smile as he typed back: Too late.
I’m already demanding my own vanity van.
Her reply was quick: Bhushan sir will gladly take that out of your acting fee.
Sid burst into laughter.
Rimma, who had been focused on her screen, looked up immediately.
“Alia?”
“No, Ma.”
Her eyes narrowed with curiosity.
“Then who is it?”
“Just a co-star.”
Rimma leaned in closer to her camera.
“A female co-star?”
“Ma,” Sid sighed, exasperated.
Sushant started cracking up beside him again.
Sid stood up from the couch.
“I’m heading to bed.
Good night, Ma.
Good night, Papa.”
“You were smiling at your phone!” Rimma called after him.
“Good night!”
“What’s her name, Sidharth?”
“GOOD NIGHT!”
By the next morning, Sid’s phone was buzzing with messages.
Mohit had texted early: Congrats!
Enjoy today.
Vidyut’s message was classic: FIRST DAY FIRST SHOW.
You weren’t completely awful.
Congrats.
Sid stared at the screen, surprised.
He typed back: You flew back to Mumbai?
A response came ten minutes later: Nope.
Caught it in Hyderabad.
Varun dances better than you.
Sid shook his head with a grin: Go back to getting hit by NTR.
Vidyut shot back with a colorful Hindi expletive.
On the other hand, Bhushan Kumar’s message was all business: Congrats on the opening!
Let me know as soon as Dharma gives you the green light.
We need to get back to shooting right away.
Sid could almost feel Bhushan’s restless energy radiating from the screen.
He set the phone down with a heavy sigh. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
That was the reality—Dharma wasn’t letting them go anytime soon.
The film had kicked off strong, which meant the promotional efforts were ramping up, not slowing down.
Sid had foolishly thought that a successful opening would make the press interviews a bit easier.
Technically, it did change the game: journalists were throwing a lot more questions his way.
Unfortunately, they weren’t the questions he was hoping for.
“Alia, Sidharth, there are ongoing rumors that you two are dating off-screen,” a reporter probed during a press junket later that afternoon.
Sid kept his face perfectly calm and neutral.
Alia chuckled lightly.
“No, not at all.”
The journalist raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“We’re just really good friends.”
Sid nodded in agreement.
“Good friends.”
The media strategy had been ironed out days earlier.
Mahesh Bhatt didn’t want a public relationship stealing the spotlight from Alia’s solo debut.
Soni Razdan was on board, believing Alia was too young to have her first big break overshadowed by a high-profile romance.
Karan wanted all eyes on the film’s ensemble cast.
And Reshma had been her usual straightforward self with Sid: Unless it’s absolutely necessary, your personal life is off-limits.
Keep it private.
So they denied it.
Time and time again.
At the very next media stop: “Sidharth, your chemistry with Alia on screen feels so natural.
Is there something more between you two?”
Sid flashed a rehearsed smile.
“We spent over a year working closely together.
Naturally, that comfort translates to the screen.”
“So that’s a definite no?”
“That’s a ‘we are great friends.'”
Alia sat next to him, wearing the perfect innocent expression of someone who hadn’t been passionately kissing him in his apartment just two nights ago.
Across from them, Varun suddenly let out a suspicious cough that caught everyone’s attention.
Sid, quick on his feet, discreetly kicked Varun’s shoe under the interview table.
In an instant, Varun’s fake cough transformed into a stifled laugh.
The journalist pounced on the moment.
“What does Varun know?”
“Nothing,” Sid replied, his voice quick and firm.
“Everything,” Varun chimed in at the exact same time.
Alia spun around, her eyes wide.
“Varun!”
Varun raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning.
“I’m just kidding!
Just kidding!”
The interviewer leaned in, practically salivating at the prospect of a juicy story, while Sid maintained a strained smile.
Inside, he was ready to strangle Varun.
The rumor mill had kicked off when someone spotted them hanging out outside of work hours.
No one could pinpoint the exact source of the leak.
Maybe it was someone who saw them at a café in Bandra, or perhaps a crew member noticed how naturally Alia gravitated toward Sid at the release party.
In the end, it didn’t really matter.
The entertainment press had caught wind of it, and now every little interaction was scrutinized as if it were undeniable proof.
Alia resting her hand on his arm while laughing?
Evidence.
Sid leaning in to whisper something to her?
Evidence.
A candid shot of them locking eyes?
Evidence.
Varun cracking up every time the topic came up?
Practically a confession.
Sid was quickly learning the exhausting side of fame.
The spotlight that once seemed flattering was now glaring, and it rarely shone on his actual work.
“How serious are you and Alia?”
“We aren’t dating.”
“Did Mahesh Bhatt give you his stamp of approval?”
Sid almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that question.
“We aren’t dating.”
“Is Varun always the third wheel?”
Before Sid could respond, Varun jumped in: “Always.”
Alia playfully kicked Varun’s shin under the table.
The interviewer chuckled, and Sid joined in, keeping it smooth—because the cameras were rolling.
The schedule was relentless.
Mornings filled with radio interviews, print media roundtables before lunch, a huge college appearance in the afternoon, and evening television studio tapings.
Travel, change outfits, flash a smile, and do it all over again.
At one bustling college in Mumbai, the sheer volume of excited students was so overwhelming that Sid could barely hear the event host standing just a couple of feet away.
That was a whole new experience for him.
Dozens of young girls were waving handmade posters with his name boldly displayed—not Varun’s, not Alia’s, but his.
One girl right at the front screamed at the top of her lungs, “SID, I LOVE YOU!”
Without missing a beat, Varun grabbed Sid by the shoulder and nudged him toward the edge of the stage.
“Go say hi to your fan!”
Sid stumbled a bit, regaining his balance, which only made the crowd cheer even louder.
He shot Varun a glare, but Varun just blew him a cheeky kiss while Alia doubled over in laughter.
Turning back to the crowd, Sid was met with thousands of eager faces, flashing phone cameras, waving hands, and colorful posters.
He even spotted a few students sporting white t-shirts with his promo photos on them.
For a fleeting moment, the deep exhaustion he felt faded away.
This was what it was all about.
Not just numbers on a chart, but real people.
Then the college host handed him a microphone and asked him to dance to Disco Deewane.
Just like that, his moment of joy vanished.
As the days wore on, the nature of the press questions began to change.
Varun was still known as David Dhawan’s son, and Alia remained Mahesh Bhatt’s daughter—those industry connections were easy, ready-made stories for journalists.
But Sid was no longer just the handsome former model quietly standing beside them.
People had actually seen him perform on the big screen.
Some loved Abhimanyu.
Some didn’t care for him at all.
Many praised his screen presence and physique far more than his emotional depth, which irked Sid more than he wanted to admit.
A few well-known film critics didn’t hold back, labeling his acting as stiff and unrefined.
That stung—especially since Sid knew there was some truth to it.
He was still on his journey of growth.
On the bright side, other reviews highlighted a natural charm and star quality that simply can’t be taught.
The media’s questions started to get a bit sharper.
“Sidharth, do you agree with the general consensus that Varun is the stronger, more effortless performer of the two?” an interviewer asked bluntly during a solo segment.
Sid maintained his steady smile.
“I think Varun is an amazing performer.
He brings such fantastic energy.”
“That’s a very diplomatic answer.”
“It’s also the truth.”
“Do you feel like you were somewhat overshadowed in the dramatic scenes?”
And there it was.
Sid kept his gaze locked on the journalist, completely unfazed.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wasn’t competing with Varun while we were filming,” Sid replied calmly.
“We were creating a story together.
His strengths complement mine, and vice versa.”
The reporter seemed almost let down by the lack of drama.
Another journalist pressed on, questioning whether Alia received more promotional attention because of her family background.
Sid chose his words carefully, aware that a single slip could easily become a headline.
“People were interested in all three of us for different reasons.
Her lineage is certainly intriguing, but it’s her talent that’s making people talk about her now.”
He could almost hear Reshma mentally applauding his textbook PR response.
Deep down, he knew the reality was more pragmatic.
Sure, their surnames gave them a head start.
He had seen the subtle favoritism from day one.
But airing his grievances publicly would get him nowhere.
It would only paint him as a bitter, insecure outsider taking shots at his co-stars while their debut film was thriving at the box office.
He needed to build real industry leverage before he could afford the luxury of speaking his mind freely.
For now, he smiled, answered questions clearly, took in everything around him, and absorbed it all like a sponge.
On the third evening after their release, the three of them were crammed into the back of an SUV, inching through the chaotic Mumbai traffic on their way to another late-night media gig.
The atmosphere was quiet.
Varun had his head pressed against the window, fast asleep.
Alia had given in to her exhaustion just ten minutes earlier, her head resting heavily on Sid’s shoulder, one hand still loosely gripping the edge of his jacket.
Sid felt the weight of fatigue in his own eyes.
His phone buzzed softly in his hand.
It was a message from Bhushan: When exactly is Dharma letting you go?
We’re losing shooting days.
Sid stared at the small screen and typed back with one thumb: You need to ask Karan.
There were no typing indicators on his old Nokia to signal a reply, but the response came back almost immediately: I did ask him.
He said three more days of city tours.
Sid let out a long, silent breath and managed a tired smile.
Three days.
He glanced down at Alia, who was sleeping soundly against him, her breathing calm and steady.
Across from them, Varun stirred slightly, opening one heavy eyelid.
“How much longer?” Varun croaked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Three days,” Sid whispered back.
“Then we’re free?”
“I am.
I head straight back to Aashiqui 2.”
Varun grunted and closed his eye again.
“Lucky bastard.”
Sid turned his gaze to the dark window.
The vibrant lights of Mumbai blurred into long streaks of color as the car continued to move forward.
AN: Many were against the idea of a mentor so it will be scrapped.
However, I will include a film with a role model everybody liked and it will be a popular Hollywood movie remake.
Any guesses?
Also I had said no chapters today but that will be transferred to tomorrow since I forgot I had this on a timer.