Image Management

The morning cameras woke us before the sun did.

Soft music piped through the ceiling, cheerful and cruel. I lay still, staring at the blinking red light in the corner of the bedroom, reminding myself to breathe normally. To stretch. To look like a man with nothing to hide.

Across the room, Arjun sat on his bed, already awake.

He caught me looking.

Didn’t smile.

Diary Room – Day 3

They say the audience fell in love with Arjun in the first episode.

I’m not surprised.

What scares me is that I might be joining them.

Breakfast was chaos.

The kitchen island turned into a stage - people laughing louder than necessary, bodies leaning closer than comfort allowed. Someone flirted openly. Someone else performed vulnerability like a rehearsed monologue.

Arjun poured coffee and kept to himself.

I noticed the way production hovered near him. Extra mics. Extra attention. Fame followed him even into this sealed box.

“Did you see the numbers?” one contestant whispered to another.

“Highest TRP launch this season,” someone else said. “Because of him.”

Arjun pretended not to hear.

But I saw his jaw tighten.

Later, the host gathered us in the living room.

“Housemates,” she said brightly, “you are trending.”

Cheers erupted.

She continued, “Social media is already speculating. Who’s real? Who’s acting? And -        ”she paused deliberately, “ - what Arjun Mehra is hiding.”

The room shifted.

Every head turned toward him.

He laughed lightly. “I guess I should be flattered.”

But his hands clenched together in his lap.

Diary Room – Arjun (Broadcast Clip)

I’ve spent my career letting people decide who I am.

This show was supposed to change that.

I forgot that nothing escapes the public eye.

The first task was designed to look harmless.

Pair up. Share a “defining romantic memory.” The audience would vote on authenticity.

Arjun’s eyes flicked to mine.

I didn’t look away.

We were paired without discussion.

We sat facing each other on opposite stools, lights hot against our skin.

“Take your time,” the producer said. “Be honest.”

Arjun went first.

“I fell in love once,” he said slowly. “With someone who couldn’t love me back publicly.”

Gasps from the house.

“I learned how lonely secrets can be.”

He stopped.

Didn’t elaborate.

The audience would eat that alive.

When it was my turn, my mouth went dry.

I had no prepared lie.

“I’ve never been in love,” I said.

That was the truth.

Arjun looked at me then. Really looked.

Something unreadable crossed his face.

The results came in that night.

Our pairing ranked first.

“Authentic,” the audience had voted.

I laughed when the announcement came.

It felt hysterical.

Diary Room – Day 3

They think we’re real.

If they knew how fake this is…

Or maybe how real it’s becoming.

After lights out, I found Arjun in the gym, punching the air in sharp, controlled movements.

“You okay?” I asked.

“PR nightmare,” he said flatly. “My manager is probably losing sleep.”

“Because of the show?”

“Because of me,” he corrected.

I leaned against the wall. “You didn’t have to join.”

“I did,” he said. “I needed to know if I could exist without a script.”

He turned to me.

“Do you ever feel like people would hate you if they knew the truth?”

The question landed too close.

“Yes,” I said.

He exhaled. “Good. I thought it was just me.”

The second vote loomed.

Suspicion thickened.

Someone accused me of being “too neutral.”

Another said Arjun was “too perfect.”

He didn’t defend himself.

I did.

“He’s famous,” I said. “If he were straight, he’d never risk this.”

The room murmured agreement.

Arjun’s eyes snapped to mine.

That night, he cornered me near the bedroom doors.

“Why did you say that?” he asked quietly.

“Because it makes sense.”

“And if it’s wrong?”

“Then we’re both idiots.”

He smiled, small and tired.

“Or liars.”

Diary Room – Day 4

I don’t know why I keep protecting him.

Maybe because if he falls, I fall with him.

The vote eliminated another man.

This one didn’t cry.

He just looked at us like we’d betrayed him.

When the door shut, Arjun flinched.

Later, I found him sitting on the floor of the balcony, knees drawn to his chest.

“This show,” he said, “doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

Neither does the world, I almost said.

Instead, I sat beside him.

Our shoulders touched.

Neither of us moved away.

The cameras caught it.

Social media exploded.

Diary Room – Producer Voice (Overlay Clip)

Viewers are shipping them already.

That night, lying in bed, my phone-less brain replayed the feel of his shoulder against mine.

Solid. Warm. Real.

Straight men don’t notice these things.

Straight men don’t want more.

But I did.

And the scariest part?

I wasn’t sure who I was lying to anymore - the audience, the house… or myself.