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‘Sometimes we have to make sacrifices,’ I say, echoing Lacey’s explanation when I asked her why I couldn’t speak up.
I don’t like it – staying quiet, saying nothing – but I’ve spent this whole relationship like that.
‘But they’re trying to turn you into something you’re not,’ Anushka adds, gentler than Gibitah.
I shrug. ‘I suppose, but isn’t that the price of this industry? We spend all our time pretending to be people we aren’t.’
The three of them share a look, and my stomach tightens. I wonder if they can see my secrets written across my face.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Farah?’ Nur asks. ‘You know you can talk to us about anything, right?’
I avoid looking at them directly. I know Zayan didn’t react how I expected, but we share an uncanny understanding of one another. I don’t want to test the waters and see if it’s the same with The Tragedies – if they think I’m overinflating all of this, they’ll see me as big-headed, self-absorbed, and I don’t want to risk losing their friendship.
‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘Just nervous about today’s gala.’
Disappointment flashes across their expressions. The laugh that Anushka gives me rings false, and I try not to flinch. ‘Sure, Farah,’ she jokes, but there’s an undercurrent there that I can’t place. ‘Your lips are locked tighter than a vault, I swear.’
I shrug helplessly, hoping the lopsided smile on my lips doesn’t look as fake as it feels. ‘I didn’t … I don’t have anything to share. Life is completely ordinary for me.’
All I can hear are the giggles in the library and the edge to Anushka’s voice, and my heart almost collapses on itself. I can’t stop seeing the chasm between me and them – Anushka, Nur, Gibitah on one side and me on the other. And it’s my fault. I created that barrier. But it’s necessary. If I burden them with what I’ve been thinking, they will surely leave.
‘All right.’ Anushka straightens, and that tense, fragmented moment disintegrates. Her smile becomes so real, I almost feel like I imagined that change before. ‘We need to show off Nur’s design to the viewers.’
‘Look at yourself before we go,’ Nur urges, and I angle myself in front of the full-length mirror.
I am suffused with sheer gratefulness for all the prodding and pricks I’ve endured for the last hour. I haven’t worn a sari since my end-of-high-school farewell party, but this – with its ballet-slipper-pink blouse and lace full sleeves – is much prettier than the one I wore then. The dupatta is made of this shimmering silver-and-rose-coloured fabric that is draped over my shoulder. However, the true beauty of this sari is the skirt made of soft, papier-mâché-like roses of varying colours – bruised violet, darkened rouge, pale yellow, aged ivory, sage green.
‘Nur,’ I breathe out, unable to put into words how much I adore it.
‘I know – you’re lucky to have me in your life; you want to shower me with gifts,’ she teases, a sly smile playing on her lips. ‘Now, come on! I want to show the camera.’
As we walk to where Ben is doing a TikTok Live, I find Zayan standing right at the centre of the stage. My gaze locks on to him automatically, taking in the sharp cut of his all-black suit and his gold cuff links. The suit fits him like a glove, moulding over his biceps, tightening across his chest, and my stomach traitorously flips at the sight of him.
I’ve concluded that I need to put an end to all these tangled feelings I have for Zayan. We will be nothing more than friends – no more confusing moments, no more blushes and bolts of attraction. His friendship is too precious for me to lose, and he’s made it so clear that he doesn’t want to cross that line. That he isn’t looking for someone to be with for the long run.
So I steel my stomach, and walk over with Anushka, Nur and Gibitah.
‘Farah, you look … Wow,’ David says, eyes widening.
‘Nur did an amazing job,’ Ben replies, and then with a jolt he remembers the TikTok Live. ‘Look, everyone! We have our stars standing together, in all their glory.’
I turn my attention to Zayan, waiting to see what he’ll say next.
His smile is filled with wicked things he’s holding back, his eyes dancing with mirth. I raise a brow expectantly, daring him to say what he’s thinking.
‘You look beautiful,’ he says, reaching over to my sari to press a green petal between his fingers. He looks away from the flower and dead straight into my eyes. ‘You’re making it hard to breathe around you.’
My stomach somersaults with unbidden chemistry. Does he have to be this attractive? Does he have to say things like this? It makes building an impenetrable wall round my feelings so much harder. And I do have to build this wall, because Zayan and I are getting too close to saying things that can go nowhere.
I have to remind myself: he’s an actor. He’s my friend. Once this fake relationship ends, he’s going to go back to his world, and I’ll go back to mine, and the only thing keeping us together will be a friendship and a line we did not cross.
‘Wow, you could slice the tension here with a knife!’ David cuts in, just before Anushka elbows him in the stomach.
Zayan laughs, and I watch him as he interacts with The Tragedies. He jokes with Ben, he listens to Nur ranting about her classes, he can talk for ages with David, he’s developed an almost sibling-like relationship with Anushka and Gibitah. He’s ingrained in the group.
Guilt clogs my heart, churns in my blood. He’s so honest with them. So friendly with them. He’s talked about his family with them. He’s talked about the industry. They value him as a friend, and I just wonder, do The Tragedies and Gibitah feel the same about me?
‘All right, we’re free,’ Ben announces, cutting through my thoughts by ending the Live.
