A few days had slipped by since that feverish night in Rohan's penthouse, the memory of their tangled bodies still lingering like a secret tattoo on Anya's skin. On set, things had shifted subtly but undeniably. Rohan no longer kept his distance; instead, he sought her out with an easy familiarity that bordered on possessive. They'd chat between takes, their laughter echoing across the bustling location, drawing curious glances from the crew. More often than not, he'd pull her into a casual hug, his arms wrapping around her waist as they pored over the script together, his chin resting on her shoulder while his fingers traced idle patterns on her hip. Whispers started circulating—'They're so cute together,' or 'Look at that chemistry'—and some crew members began playfully shipping them, teasing about off-screen sparks igniting the on-screen fire.