Ranveer put the phone down and straightened the cuffs of his crisp Polo shirt. Deepika was on her way to the room. He allowed himself to slither back on the leather sofa his eyes traversing the sprawling five-star suite that surrounded him. He could easily hide in its expanse. Or get lost. The suite was paid for by the production house, and so were the clothes. But that wasn't the thing biting his ass.

In another two hours, he would wear his fake smile and cover his true self with an over the top Bollywood hero that loved to jump around for an audience like a performing monkey in a crowd. True, he was an actor and he would give his life to do what he did but this was different: a PR event. Hordes of photographers ogling for juicy scoops into his life. Better give them a scoop to lick before they rip apart a bite. The film would get a lot of free press. Everyone wins.

He checked his watch, an expensive Rolex, paid for by the producers, and felt extremely out of place. He came from a rich family and nothing in that suite could conjure even the slightest thought of discomfort at a different time, but the luxury all around him now paid for by someone else, made him feel like a prostitute.

His thoughts turned to Deepika. They were in a relationship, yes, but it seldom felt like such. Honey-Sweetie routine had long settled in, however, it reeked of prosthetic emotions that public relations teams of their films were forever ready to monetize.

Click here to know what Ranveer Singh is calling Deepika these days.

Does your partner look at you like Deepika Padukone looks at Ranveer?

Headlines overflowed the tabloid. Although most were plotted by their PR. They hit the gym, the airports, premieres always with paps ready for a quick bite. The relationship was more in the tabloids than between them.

Is there any of me left in this relationship?

Or is it just the Bollywood Superstar Ranveer Singh showing the world how it's done?

Would we still be together if we weren't doing movies together?

The doorbell rang. It must be Deepika. He bounced off the sofa and rushed to the door chirping.

"Hey, honey."

"Hi," Deepika said as she moved to enter but found her feet feeling for the floor as Ranveer swept her off the ground in a tight embrace. Ranveer swirled her around as she let out a tired laugh, a hand on his shoulder, as he carried her in.

Back on the ground, she had an eyeful of her baby who was smiling at her waiting for a response from her.

She didn't say anything and moved to the hall. Appreciation or reprimand or whatever would only encourage him.

"Should we do that in front of the press?" Ranveer asked.

A jolt went down Deepika's spine like someone lifted her off her feet and slammed hard on the floor. A beautiful moment in no time turned into another rehearsal for paparazzi.

But she won't show her vulnerabilities. Too many for too long have hurt her with her weaknesses. Wasn't this, after all, responsible for the monthly visits to the overpriced shrink? This is another overreaction brewing inside of her brain and she must not let it take over her judgment.

What did he say wrong? Weren't they supposed to attend the PR event for the film in a few hours? He is preparing for his performance. So should I.

"Yeah, we could." She said calmly. "But if we were on a stage and you lifted me, you know these sleazy photographers are only going to click my bum."

She moved, her bony shoulders hunched, and sprawled on the cozy sofa. She understood PR and paparazzi a lot better. Over the years, she had learned to distinguish between events based on their locations and outreach. Ranveer, who was still new to this world did all events with equal fervor, which got him an image of an overenthusiastic starry-eyed kid who still couldn't believe he made it.

"True. True," said Ranveer deep in thought. "It might crumple your clothes. And mine too." He moved towards her from behind, instinctively, stretching his thumbs over her forehead gently pressing while digging his fingers through her hair.

Deepika, hesitant at first, by the gentle pressure of his fingers, slowly melted in her place. He rubbed her temples and tugged at her hair softy.

"Sad we can't do this for PR." She said and smiled.

"Huh? Yeah." Something turned in Ranveer's eyes that he didn't notice himself.

"Imagine if we could just do a massage session for movie promotions in every city." She said softly, her eyes closed. "I wouldn't mind that at all. But the moral police of this country would lose their shit." She giggled.

"An uncovered woman having a good time." Ranveer joined in. "Nightmare."

"I swear."

"Bet they'll have jizz breaks in between their protests."

Deepika sat upright laughing so hard spit flew up in the air. Some landed on the floor in front of her, and some on her head as she continued with her laughter. She hesitated to look at Ranveer after the faux pas but continued laughing.

She didn't have to turn around as Ranveer showed up in front with a closed eye smeared with her spit.

"Shouldn't have looked up." He said.

Deepika froze at the sight for a moment. Then she broke into a fresh fit of laughter.

Embarrassed, Ranveer pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He will have to redo his make-up and hair. "We have to be somewhere." He said suppressing a smile.

Deepika continued laughing and he didn't mind.

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