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I shouldn’t care that he’s not paying attention to me, but I can’t help it. Now that he’s not looking at me, I feel like I’ve lost something. Zayan’s attention is like a spotlight; it focuses on you entirely. There’s no wavering, no gaps – just his undiluted gaze upon you – but when he does switch it off, it leaves you hollowed out. Pushed into the shadows. Unseen.
‘I had a great time at Desi Night,’ Anushka says loudly, forcing my thoughts towards her. ‘All the food, the vibes, it was amazing. I just loved how fun it was to have all of us together.’
I muster up a grin. ‘Yeah, it was really great to have you guys. You all have a permanent invitation, by the way. You can come on the twenty-eighth as well, if you want.’
‘Well, I have to come. I need to know what happens after that cliffhanger.’
I laugh, remembering how loudly Anushka gasped at the end of the show. Before I can tease her about it, she’s called over by another cast member. It gives me a chance to look at Zayan again. His back faces me, and I notice how tight his shoulders are. Zayan breathes nonchalance, ease, but not right now. His body is taut with tension, or agitation.
Something is wrong.
Is this about his audition? It could be, but I don’t know why he’d be ignoring me if it went badly. Unless … unless it’s about me – or us? Maybe it’s because of how much he shared on our last call; maybe he feels too exposed. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll use that against him, like how everyone else seems to weaponize knowledge about him to hurt him.
Before I can drag Zayan to a corner of the theatre, away from prying eyes, Ben brings us together himself.
‘OK, so we’re doing the first TikTok Live today,’ Ben says, excitement bright in his smile.
I shoot a look Zayan’s way, hoping to convey that he needs to speak to me before the Live starts. I know he can feel my stare, but he resolutely, stubbornly looks forward. Aggravation starts building under my skin, my patience thinning.
‘I’m going to show the public the tech room first,’ Ben goes on to explain. ‘And then you guys just need to be in the background together. Maybe for some of the later Lives you can actually talk to the fans together?’
Zayan nods and then walks off. I watch him, my mouth close to hanging open.
‘Did something happen between you two?’ Ben asks, confused.
‘No!’ I reply indignantly. ‘We were fine when we spoke last. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. I don’t even know how we’re going to do our scene today.’
‘You aren’t doing a scene today,’ Ben replies. ‘Didn’t you see the timetable change?’
I scramble for my phone, looking at the timetable. Apparently, we’re going backwards and doing a scene we’ve already done.
‘Who made the change?’
Ben shrugs and shiftily refuses to meet my eyes.
‘Ben?’ I ask warningly.
‘Look, why don’t you treat today as a break? Just relax and wait for my cue, and everything will be fine.’
I ignore Ben’s advice and start searching for something else I can improve in the play. If Zayan doesn’t want to work on our chemistry and how that translates on the Live, then that just gives me more time to fix another relationship that will help the play succeed.
Gibitah.
I look backstage for her, and I know she’s scheduled for today because we’re supposed to be doing a scene with one another. When the costume room is also empty, I’m almost ready to give up. Until I remember one more place from my tour with Zayan.
Backstage, in the left wing, there’s a trapdoor that leads under the stage. It’s essentially a storage place now, with dusty boxes of old costumes, wires and cables. I descend the rickety staircase, sort of hoping Gibitah isn’t there, because the room also doubles up pretty well as a murder spot.
‘Gibitah?’ I call out.
I find a thread hanging from the ceiling, and after I tug on it light illuminates the room. Gibitah’s form is the first thing I see, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes watery, her lips dipped into a frown.
‘Uh …’ I begin awkwardly. If someone stumbled upon me crying, what would I want them to do? ‘Would you like me to switch the light back off and leave?’
She turns her head slowly, giving me an appraising look, before turning forward again. Moments of silence stretch between us like taffy, snapping when Gibitah starts to speak.
‘I’m thinking of quitting the play,’ she says, her tone so solid and sure.
I lurch towards her. ‘No, Gibitah, you can’t leave. Look, I know I messed up before, but you can’t leave because of –’
