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He smiles, but I see hints of worry round the corners of his mouth.
‘Zayan?’
‘I got the call this morning, and they’re starting filming in Australia straight away.’
‘Oh my gosh, that’s amazing –’
‘I’m not taking the part.’
I step away from him, staring like he’s grown an extra head. ‘What? Why?’
‘Because –’ Zayan’s tone is soft, his eyes wide – ‘this just became real. We just became real. And I want to do this right. I want to meet your parents; I want us to be forever. You mean more to me than this role, Farah.’
I say nothing. I feel like I’ve been robbed of words. No one, no one, has ever loved me like this. So uncontestably. So wholly. The idea that Zayan would sacrifice one of his dreams for me, for us, makes my heart ache with an affection I didn’t know I could feel until now.
‘Here,’ Zayan continues when my silence persists. ‘I got you something.’
I reluctantly look away from his face to see the box in his hands. He passes it to me, and when I open it I’m faced with a crinkle of white paper. I pull it away to see a beautiful pale-butter-yellow dupatta, neatly folded. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I take it out of the box and fully open it, entranced by the slight shimmer to the fabric.
‘Zayan,’ I whisper, overcome with memories of how this all began.
‘I realized that I never got you a new one,’ Zayan says, his voice both teasing and nervous. He takes the dupatta from my hands and gently drapes it over my shoulders – just like how I was wearing it all those weeks ago. ‘I want you to know, Farah, I’m all in for this. For our relationship. I know we said we loved one another, but I want to make it clear: I want to be with you forever.’
The question whispers in my mind once more. Can I have both – my own fame and my love? But this time I have an answer.
‘You need to take the role, Zayan,’ I say, and when he looks like he’s about to protest, I place the box on the ground beside us and step closer to him once more – not touching him, because he needs to hear me. ‘Before you came out here, I overheard these two critics talking about me. One of them was amazed by my ability on the stage, and the other was amazed by my ability because they’d only ever thought of me as your “latest love”.’
‘Well, whoever it was is an –’ Zayan begins, but I cut him off with a look.
‘Don’t make me use the dupatta to shut you up,’ I warn, and the tips of his ears turn a pink that’s starting to become my favourite shade. ‘It got me thinking,’ I continue lightly, ‘about whether I could have both things. Whether I could be an actress in my own right and have you in my life.’
I feel his intake of breath, sharp and worried. I can see him gearing up for rejection, the walls rebuilding round his heart one brick at a time. ‘And?’
‘And,’ I say slowly, ‘I realized that I love you, Zayan Amin. I love you, and I love being on stage, and I refuse to believe that those two things can’t coexist. It’ll be harder, I know, to make a name for myself when attached to another celebrity. Laiba laid out the arguments. But you and I, we aren’t you and Laiba. We’re forever. And if what you’re saying is true, then I want to do it right as well. I want to meet your parents. I want to visit Pakistan with you. I want forever – not a fake could-be-something. Forever.’
Zayan’s throat bobs with emotion, his eyes reflecting the glow of the moon hanging in the sky. His hands find my waist, pulling me in closer.
‘That’s why you need to take the job, Zayan,’ I say, and this time my tone is heavy with emotion. ‘Even though spending six months away from you will be awful, it’s also going to be our new reality. If we’re in it for the long haul, who’s to say I won’t land a job in another country, with a crazy schedule that keeps me away for a few months? We’ll have to learn to love through that. I will not let you give up on your career. I will not give up on mine. We can have our dreams.’
‘My dreams include loving you for eternity,’ Zayan says, his forehead pressing against mine. ‘I want to see your name right beside mine. I want it to glow in glittering lights. I want to watch your movies, your plays, your shows. I want you to come to mine. I want to cross every single line with you, when we’re ready.’ His expression turns fierce, like a candle bursting into flame. ‘We’re going to have it all, Farah. Promise me: you’re going to live your dreams, I’m going to live mine and we’re going to keep coming back to each other.’
Under the moon, with our theatre in front of us, Zayan Amin and I make another vow to one another. Another contract. Another promise.
But this time, it’s forever.
EPILOGUE
TWELVE MONTHS LATER
There are moments in your life that you will remember forever. Memories so special, so traumatic, so violent, so wonderful, so beautiful that they’re stitched into your consciousness for eternity.
This is one of those moments. This will be one of those memories.
Me, Farah Sheikh, being interviewed by The Actors’ Guild.
The Actors’ Guild.
Just saying that title makes a flurry of nerves erupt from my heart to the tips of my fingers. I give myself a final once-over in the mirror, studying the hours of work my team have put in to get me to this point, smoothing out imaginary crinkles from my butter-yellow shalwar kameez. I lightly trace the embroidery on the dupatta, feeling both anchored by it and reminded of everything about the boy who gifted it to me.
