AN: My longest chapter yet.
Also do you want a harem or a messy love life?
A week went by.
For the first time since Bunty Sharma had woken up on that cold bathroom floor, Sid started to carve out something that resembled a routine.
It left his mind craving those quiet moments to ponder the unanswerable questions—or maybe that was just his ADHD making itself known.
This was something Bunty had dealt with in his past life, and it seemed to have followed him into this one as well.
Every morning, Vidyut was up before the sun even thought about rising.
Sid found this out on his second day when he stumbled into the hall at six-thirty, still half-asleep, only to catch his flatmate drenched in sweat, performing some intense body-weight exercises.
Sid blinked at him, then at the wall clock.
“Why?”
Vidyut paused mid-stretch, giving him a confused look.
“Why what?”
“Why are you awake?”
“It’s morning.”
“It’s barely dawn.”
Without missing a beat, Vidyut returned to his stretching.
Sid thought about turning around and crawling back into bed.
But then he remembered Sidharth Malhotra’s future physique.
More importantly, he recalled what Bunty Sharma had once posted on online forums about Sidharth’s career:
Handsome model, but ultimately wooden.
Sid winced, swallowed his pride, and let out a long sigh.
“Fine.”
That was how it all began.
By the end of the week, he had somehow found himself joining Vidyut’s grueling morning workouts.
They started with mobility exercises, followed by body-weight circuits, core stability drills, balance work, and basic martial-arts footwork that Sid executed with all the grace of a falling wardrobe.
Vidyut was relentless with his corrections.
“Your stance is wrong.”
Sid adjusted his feet.
“Still wrong.”
Another adjustment.
“Worse.”
“You really know how to lift someone’s spirits, don’t you?”
“Again.”
Sid loathed him every morning at six-thirty.
By the time breakfast rolled around at eight, he usually found himself liking him again.
After the physical torture came the real work: acting.
Sid had spent countless late nights just lying there, staring at the ceiling and wrestling with his reality.
He had this incredible, almost unfair advantage: he knew what was coming.
Even if the timeline of this world was shifting a bit at the edges, enough of it remained the same that he had a roadmap that no one else could see.
He was aware of which scripts were destined to be hits, which directors were on the verge of becoming legends, and which trends were about to take over the decade.
Commercial success was within his grasp if he played his cards right.
But that didn’t tackle his main issue—acting.
Bunty had never let him forget it.
The rigid jawline, the limited range of expressions, the flat delivery, and the over-reliance on just looking good.
Whether those critiques were too harsh didn’t matter anymore.
Sid remembered those thoughts all too well.
Now, every jab felt like a personal challenge.
He refused to navigate this second life relying solely on Sidharth Malhotra’s jawline.
If he was going to snatch up those brilliant films from the future, he needed to cultivate the talent to earn them.
It became an obsession.
He started watching movies in a whole new way.
Instead of just following the story, he focused on the actors’ faces, how long they maintained eye contact, and what transpired in those fleeting moments between lines.
He noticed when their voices dipped, when they faltered, how their hands fidgeted when anxious, and how their breathing changed just before tears threatened to spill.
It was a humbling realization to see how blind he had been.
Good acting seemed effortless because the hard work was concealed.
Bad acting, on the other hand, laid bare every poor choice.
He needed a place to learn.
One evening, over dinner, Sushant had thrown out a suggestion.
“Theatre,” Sushant had said, jabbing his fork in Sid’s direction.
“If you really want to learn how to act, go watch stage actors.”
“Watch?” Sid asked, curiosity lighting up his face.
“Watch first.
The film gives you a bit of an advantage,” came the reply.
Vidyut, who had been focused on his protein bowl, looked up.
“How’s that?”
“The camera,” Sushant explained, turning his attention to him.
“With close-ups, quick cuts, retakes, and all that post-production magic, you can really play with the audience’s perception.
But on stage?
If you mess up, everyone knows it.”
Sushant then suggested Prithvi Theatre.
So, Sid started going.
Prithvi Theatre in Juhu had been around for ages, founded by Shashi and Jennifer Kapoor as a cozy venue where the thrust-stage design made the audience feel like they were part of the action.
Sid was instantly smitten.
He would settle into the shadows at the back.
The trailer for Student of the Year had just dropped, so every now and then someone would glance over or whisper, but for the most part, everyone was there for the love of the craft.
Sid was glued to the performances.
After just two days of watching, he found himself captivated by stage actors.
There was no escaping the truth.
A bad pause lingered in the air, and a forgotten line couldn’t be edited out.
If an actor needed to convey grief to someone twenty feet away, that emotion had to resonate through their entire being while staying firmly grounded.
After each show, Sid would head home and scribble down notes: Voice, posture, silence, timing, eyes, breath.
When he felt ready to step beyond just watching, Sushant nudged him the next morning.
“You need to train properly.
Go to Barry.
I trained under him too.”
The name clicked instantly for Sid.
Barry John.
Even Bunty had known who he was.
This British-born theatre guru had been shaping Indian performance since the late 60s—he founded Delhi’s Theatre Action Group, taught at NSD, and mentored countless stars through his intense workshops, including Shah Rukh Khan.
Sushant had trained with Barry before making his mark in television and film.
So, Sid signed up.
He thought he’d blend in unnoticed.
That didn’t happen.
On his first official morning, as Sid walked into the studio, adjusting his gym bag, he suddenly froze.
Varun Dhawan was stretching by the mirror wall.
Varun glanced up, and for a moment, they just locked eyes.
Then, a huge grin broke across his face.
“You?”
Sid let out a deep sigh.
“Unfortunately.”
Varun got to his feet, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
“What are you doing here?”
“Learning how to act.”
Varun looked genuinely taken aback.
“Acting?”
“What else would I be doing at an acting workshop?”
Varun circled around him like he was inspecting a piece of art.
Sid frowned.
“What?”
“Honestly?
I figured you’d just coast on this.” Varun poked Sid right in the cheek.
Sid swatted his hand away.
“Very funny.”
“I’m being serious!”
“Get lost, Varun.”
Varun chuckled, though his gaze was sharp.
“You know what they say.
Model guy, great looks…
acting is just a bonus.”
Sid dropped his bag against the wall, trying to keep his voice calm.
“Maybe I actually want to be good at it.”
Varun’s smile softened into something genuinely supportive.
“Good for you, man.”
Then, all of a sudden, Varun froze.
His brow furrowed.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Did you remember it?”
Sid blinked.
“Remember what?”
Varun’s expression shifted from curiosity to panic in a heartbeat.
“Oh no, you’re in trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
Varun slapped a hand over his face.
“Sid…
please tell me you didn’t forget.”
A cold knot twisted in Sid’s stomach.
“Forget what?”
“Your anniversary!” Varun whispered urgently, glancing around as if he expected someone to jump out and film this.
“What anniversary?!”
“Alia!” Varun hissed.
“You and Alia!
Six months.
In two days!
How could you forget?”
Sid’s mind went completely blank.
Alia.
Sidharth and Alia dating.
Right.
There had always been endless rumors in the industry.
Years later, old interviews and entertainment articles made it clear they had been together for a while during their early days.
Bunty recalled reading about it, but with all the chaos of dying, waking up in 2012, signing with Matrix, and dealing with Sidharth’s real parents, he hadn’t really taken the time to sort out the timeline of his romantic life.
A future superstar girlfriend, no less.
She was currently eighteen, full of emotions, and expecting a six-month anniversary gift in just forty-eight hours.
Varun narrowed his eyes at Sid’s frozen expression.
“You totally forgot, didn’t you?
I thought you were planning a surprise, which is why you didn’t call her.”
Sid shot back, “I didn’t.”
“You did!
You have no idea what’s going on!”
“I was thinking about it—”
“You are so screwed,” Varun wheezed, clearly enjoying this.
“Thanks for the support.”
“She’s been planning something for two weeks,” Varun added with a smirk.
“I saw her chatting with some guy in a suit—definitely European—about a few things.”
Sid grabbed Varun’s shoulder.
“What did she plan?”
“I’m not telling.”
“Varun, I swear—”
Varun laughed, wriggling out of Sid’s grip.
“Just get her something nice!”
“Like what?”
“How should I know?
She’s your girlfriend!”
The word hit Sid like a bucket of cold water.
Your girlfriend.
He looked away, his jaw tightening.
Varun noticed the hesitation, and his playful tone softened a bit.
“Hey…
you guys good?”
“Yeah,” Sid replied a bit too quickly.
Varun studied him for a moment, then let it slide with a light nudge.
“She’s a great girl, Sid.
Don’t mess this up.”
“Very motivating.”
“You two done?”
A sharp, booming voice cut through the air.
They both turned at once.
Barry John stood at the studio entrance, arms crossed, watching them with a frosty glare.
Sid straightened up immediately.
Varun gave a sheepish grin.
“Yes, sir.”
Barry’s gaze zeroed in on Sid.
“You came here to gossip?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” Barry shifted his eyes to Varun.
“And you?”
“Working, sir.”
“Then get moving.”
The class kicked off with a focus on spatial awareness and physical conditioning.
They moved around the room, changing tempos, freezing in place, observing their partners without making eye contact, controlling their breath, and experimenting with vocal resonance.
At first, Sid was puzzled about how any of this related to actual scenes.
But then came the improvisation, and suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
Barry gathered everyone into a circle.
“Pairs.”
Without missing a beat, Varun pointed at Sid.
“You’re my partner.”
Sid let out a resigned sigh.
“Alright, fine.”
Barry waited for the room to quiet down.
“Today’s dynamic is about long-term relationships.
You’ve been together for two years.
Deep down, you love each other, but things just aren’t working anymore.
You’ve got separate careers, different ambitions, and neither of you is willing to compromise.
One of you is about to initiate the breakup.”
“You’re not ending it because the love is gone,” Barry said gently, scanning their faces.
“You’re ending it because you realize that staying together will only poison what you once had and turn it into resentment.”
He glanced at the pairs.
“One of you will start.
Then you’ll switch.
Improvise.
Listen, adapt, and respond.”
Varun raised his hand.
“Can I be the girlfriend first?”
A few chuckles rippled through the room.
Barry shot Varun a look that was all business.
“You can be a fire hydrant for all I care, just make sure you act.”
Varun turned to Sid, instantly slumping his shoulders.
“Boyfriend.”
“Right,” Sid muttered, feeling the weight of the moment.
They stepped into the center of the floor while Barry settled into a folding chair nearby.
“Begin.”
Sid took a deep breath.
This should be straightforward.
Just pretend.
He’d watched countless breakup scenes in movies—sad faces, heavy pauses, quiet, tragic deliveries.
Simple enough.
He looked at Varun, who had already shifted his stance, crossing his arms defensively.
Sid started, “We need to talk.”
“Stop,” Barry interrupted immediately.
Sid blinked, taken aback.
He had only said four words.
Barry leaned in closer.
“Why did you deliver that like it was a line from a terrible TV movie?”
A few students chuckled, and Sid felt heat creeping up his neck.
“You’ve already made up your mind about how this whole scene wraps up before even hearing him out,” Barry pointed out, gesturing toward Varun.
“He’s still in the dark about the breakup.
Talk to him, not the wall behind you.”
Varun shot Sid a smug grin, and Barry noticed right away.
“And you, cut out the theatrics.”
Varun’s grin faded instantly.
“Again,” Barry commanded.
Sid took a moment to reset.
He focused on Varun, trying to ground himself in their shared history, the arguments, the memories.
But there was nothing to draw from.
“Can we sit?” Sid asked gently.
That was better.
Varun’s gaze lifted, and his posture shifted.
“Why?”
“Just…
let’s sit for a moment.”
They settled across from each other on the wooden floor.
Varun studied him.
“What’s going on?”
Sid swallowed hard.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s usually a bad sign.”
Sid attempted to put on a mask of deep sadness, furrowing his brows.
“Stop that,” Barry interjected.
Sid froze, relaxing his forehead.
“Stop what?”
“Making a ‘sad face.’ Are you actually sad, or just trying to look sad?”
A wave of embarrassment washed over Sid.
“I’m just trying to adjust.”
“Then adjust here,” Barry said, tapping his chest.
“Your face will follow.
Ditch the mask.”
Sid nodded, taking a deep breath.
They started over.
Sid locked eyes with Varun, this time letting his face be completely natural.
“I think we should end this,” Sid said flatly.
Varun went completely still.
It was a striking reaction.
“Okay,” Varun whispered.
Sid felt a jolt of confusion.
That wasn’t the dramatic resistance he had anticipated.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have anything to say?”
Varun shrugged, glancing away, his jaw tightening just a bit.
“No.”
Sid noticed it.
Varun was playing the hurt card.
Real, quiet hurt.
It was miles ahead of anything Sid had shown so far.
Sid pressed on.
“You knew this was coming.
We’ve been at each other’s throats for months.”
“Couples fight,” Varun replied softly.
“We hardly ever see each other.”
“We’re both busy with work.”
“Exactly,” Sid said, leaning in closer.
“We’re twenty-three.
You got that offer in Bangalore.
You really should take it.”
“I said I would.”
We’ll only catch up twice a month.”
“Then twice a month it is,” Varun shot back, his voice wavering a bit.
“Is that your big reason?”
“It’s not just one reason—”
“Then tell me the real reason!” Varun pressed, leaning forward.
Sid felt his grip on the situation slipping.
He tried to retreat into his thoughts, figuring out his next move.
“I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your career.”
“I never asked you to make that choice for me,” Varun retorted.
“You would have, eventually.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I know us!” Sid blurted out.
“No,” Varun replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“You made the decision for us.
Just like you always do.”
That hit Sid like a punch to the gut.
Decided for us.
In an instant, Sid’s inner turmoil collided with reality.
The weight of his existence crashed down on him: choices made for a life he had taken over, timelines twisted, parents he was deceiving, a girlfriend he hadn’t chosen.
His focus shattered.
The scene crumbled around him.
Varun frowned, noticing the sudden emptiness in Sid’s gaze.
“Sid?”
Sid blinked, completely lost in thought.
He scrambled for something to say.
“I just…
I think this is for the best.”
His voice came out sounding hollow, insincere.
Barry raised a hand.
“Hold on.”
Sid sighed, burying his head in his hands.
Barry studied him closely.
“You completely zoned out.
Where did you go?”
Sid swallowed hard.
“Right after he said I decided for both of us.”
“Why?
Were you trying to find your next line?”
“No,” Sid admitted quietly.
“Something hit me.
I started to think.”
Barry surprised him by nodding.
“Good.
Something genuinely affected you.
But then your defense mechanism kicked in—you became self-aware, stepped outside yourself, and tried to fix it on the fly.”
Barry turned to the rest of the class.
“That’s the core struggle.
You feel something genuine, and right away, your ego jumps in, trying to control how it appears to everyone else.”
He glanced back at Sid.
“Your face is incredibly controlled.
It’s like a fortress.”
“Wooden,” Sid muttered quietly.
“You carry a lot of tension in your jaw and forehead,” Barry continued, tapping his own face for emphasis.
“You’re always checking how you come across.
You’ve done some modeling, right?”
“Yeah.”
“In modeling, you’re hyper-aware of the camera.
Acting requires you to let go of that awareness.” Barry stepped in closer.
“And your voice.
It all comes from the same comfortable place.
Same rhythm, same flat tone.
An angry line and a loving line sound the same coming from you.”
Each word landed like a precise strike.
It was a clear dissection of Sidharth Malhotra’s acting shortcomings.
“How do I change it?” Sid asked, locking eyes with Barry.
Barry’s serious demeanor softened just a bit.
“Unlearning habits takes time.
Focus on breath work, vocal placement, and listening.
And above all…” Barry offered a faint smile.
“…stop stressing about looking handsome.”
Varun stifled a cough, but Sid completely ignored him.
By the end of the two-hour session, Sid felt a unique kind of exhaustion.
His body was fine, but his mind felt utterly spent.
As the class wrapped up, Sid stayed on the floor, jotting down notes in his leather journal: Vocal placement, jaw tension, stop forcing reactions, listen.
The eyes reveal everything.
“Sidharth.”
Sid looked up.
Barry was standing over him, hands tucked into his pockets.
“Yes, sir?”
“Sit,” Barry said, motioning to the floor.
Sid straightened up, bracing himself for a polite suggestion to stick to modeling.
Barry leaned against the mirror wall.
“You have a lot of work ahead of you.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what your biggest obstacle is?”
Sid waited.
“You’re scared of looking silly,” Barry said bluntly.
“Models master their muscles to create a flawless image.
Actors need that control too, but first, you have to let yourself be vulnerable, messy, and even a bit ugly.”
Sid took in the words, letting them sink in.
“You’re always critiquing yourself while you’re in the moment,” Barry continued.
“That’s something you can unlearn.
But it requires you to drop your defenses.”
Sid met the old veteran’s gaze, searching for reassurance.
“Do you really think I can get there?”
Barry raised an eyebrow.
“If I thought you were hopeless, I wouldn’t bother talking to you after class.
You’ve got screen presence—that’s a gift.
When you actually let your guard down, you start to pay attention.
And sometimes, you respond with genuine honesty.”
A wave of relief washed over Sid.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me.
Potential is easy to find.
The hard part is the work.”
“I’ll put in the work.”
“Strive to do better than your best,” Barry said, giving Sid’s shoulder a reassuring pat before heading to his office.
Sid lingered for a moment, a slow smile creeping onto his face.
His first real acting class had shown him he was currently just okay—maybe even worse.
Yet, he felt a rush of excitement.
Okay could be improved.
Bad habits could be changed.
Feeling stiff wasn’t a permanent state; it was just the beginning.
Outside, Varun was leaning against a pillar, tossing an apple up and down.
“So?” Varun asked as Sid stepped out.
“Did he tell you to stick to modeling?”
“He said I’m a generational talent,” Sid replied with a straight face.
Varun let out a laugh.
“Sure, and I’m the next De Niro.”
Sid nudged Varun’s shoulder as they strolled toward the main gate.
“But seriously,” Varun said, keeping pace with him.
“What’s the plan for Alia?”
Sid groaned, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t know, Varun.
Flowers?
Jewelry?”
Varun came to an abrupt halt, staring at Sid as if he had sprouted a second head.
“Jewelry?
You don’t even know what style she likes?
You’ve been dating for six months!”
“Well…
preferences can change!” Sid stammered, desperately trying to fix his mistake.
Varun narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him.
“You’ve been acting really strange lately, Sid.”
Sid’s heart did an uncomfortable flip.
He kept his expression completely neutral—thanks to Barry’s lesson on muscle control which he now executed perfectly.
“How so?”
“Just…
distant.
Quiet.”
“I’ve always been quiet.”
“Not like this,” Varun pressed, studying his face intently.
After a long, tense pause, he waved a hand dismissively.
“Whatever.
It’s probably just the pressure before the big release.
First movie jitters.”
“Yeah,” Sid replied smoothly, “probably that.”
Varun gave him a friendly clap on the back.
“Get her something personal, man.
Something that shows you’ve been paying attention to her.
She’s a great girl.
Don’t mess it up.”
“Right,” Sid murmured softly.
“Personal.”
As Varun headed toward his car, Sid lingered on the pavement, feeling the warm Mumbai evening radiating from the concrete.