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‘Give me your number,’ I say, quickly pulling out my phone. ‘We’re at the same university, right? When you’re on campus, or when you have a break between classes, hit me up and we’ll hang out. We can talk about the play, run lines or discuss anything you want. I’m here to listen. I’m here for you if you need me.’
Gibitah’s silence leaves me unmoored, afraid of being rebuked, but then a slow smile touches her lips. I sway a little with relief as she types in her contact details. While I’m adding my details to her phone, there’s a knock on the trapdoor above us, and Ben’s head popping in has us both craning our necks upwards.
I jolt into my role at the sight of his phone.
‘And here we have Farah Sheikh! The star of our show!’ he says jovially to the viewers of the TikTok Live. ‘Next rehearsal, I’ll show you loyal viewers what’s actually going on under the stage, but for now let’s see what’s going on above. Right, Farah?’
Ah, the cue. Subtle as always.
I turn back to Gibitah, and her brows furrow at me.
‘What?’ she asks, confused.
‘Do you want to do the TikTok Live?’ I ask, thinking of how it would be good exposure for Gibitah. ‘Maybe talk about your role? The play?’
Gibitah takes a moment before nodding, and then follows me as I make my way to Ben. We climb out of the trapdoor and back into the left wing, and find ourselves standing right in front of Ben. He’s all smiles as we approach, holding the phone with a steady hand.
I wave to the camera. ‘Hi, everyone! We’re so excited that you guys are watching! I have to dash off to ready myself for a scene, but why don’t you talk to Gibitah in the meantime? She’s my right-hand woman for all of the play. I don’t know where Heer would be without her.’
Smoothly, Gibitah takes my spot, and I watch from behind Ben as she flawlessly answers the questions our Live watchers are asking – inevitably, most are about Zayan, but slowly that changes, and there are questions about the play, about rehearsals and about how she got involved in this play.
When she’s fully engrossed, I take a moment to rush out of the wings and find Zayan. I know Ben will end the Live with a shot of Zayan and me in the background, to drum up even more support. I need to get to Zayan before the camera does, just so I can bandage over whatever we’re struggling with, even if we can’t fix it right now.
I’m moving so fast that I don’t realize I’ve collided with someone.
Automatically, David reaches out to steady me by my forearms. ‘Woah, woah. Where are you off to?’
I laugh, a little breathlessly, as I step out of his hold. His arms move away, and I steady myself. ‘Sorry, I’m just looking for Zayan.’
David smiles, all teeth and glimmering eyes. He points behind me. ‘Well, he’s right there.’
I do a full one-eighty on my heel, hoping to be greeted with a somewhat thawed Zayan, but instead he’s glaring at me. Behind me, David huffs out a laugh at something, but I ignore him and walk straight towards Zayan – readying myself for the brunt of his cold exterior.
‘Hey,’ I start, pretending I’m not Farah. I’m on a stage; that means I’m not allowed to be me. Instead, I’m a stronger version of Farah. I’m closer to Heer than myself. ‘I think we need to talk.’ He tilts his head, arms folded over his chest, waiting for me to continue. This is frostier than usual. I’m not even getting a greeting. ‘I’m not sure what you’re going through, but your attitude is starting to reflect badly on our relationship. Shove a smile on your face, and look like we’re having a good, fun, loving conversation, because Ben’s coming up with the Live.’
Zayan’s face, expressive when he decides it’ll be, flashes through several emotions – shock, frustration, anger – before settling as a blank slate. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, and I brace myself, but he chooses silence instead.
It hurts in a way I didn’t expect.
I haven’t deluded myself into believing Zayan and I are friends, not really. But I didn’t think we were like this. Impersonal to a new degree. If we were dating, I’d have lashed out at him. Called him out more insistently. But I can be professional.
‘You need to look like you’re talking, genius,’ I say scathingly. ‘Otherwise it just looks like we’re staring at one another silently.’
Zayan’s eyes flash, jaw tightening, before he rearranges his face.
‘Were you the one who changed the timetable?’ I ask, keeping a smile on my lips. From the corner of my eye, I see Ben videoing us.
‘Yes,’ he replies, and I’m surprised by his blatant honesty.
‘Why?’
‘I couldn’t be around you today.’
I swallow against the roughness in my throat, thinking of saying something equally harsh when Ben interrupts us.
‘All right, guys! We’re free!’ Ben calls out and waves his phone to show the Live has ended. Zayan wastes no time in walking off, leaving me to bear the weight of our unfinished conversation.
What happened to him?
