AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The next thing I see is a message from Laiba. It’s short, and sweet.
Hit me up when this all blows over. We’ll get lunch, or breakfast, or whatever you like. After weathering this storm, you deserve it. Bring a notebook too. I have loads of advice to pass on. XO
Laiba Siddiqi
My heart swells with affection for Laiba – this girl who knows nothing about me and yet has built an invisible connection between us. Another guiding hand through the industry, if I choose to go down this road.
‘It’s nice to know I’ve got people on my side,’ I say finally.
‘You’ve got lots of people on your side,’ Zayan reminds me leadingly. ‘The Tragedies, for example.’
Fear flutters like sparrow wings in my lungs, and Zayan must see it in my face.
‘No matter what happens, you’ve got me, Farah,’ he says.
‘And you’ve got us,’ Maha butts in. Amal jabs her with her elbow. ‘What? I wanted her to know she’s not alone.’
‘How thick can you be? They’re clearly having a moment,’ Amal hisses back.
I let their bickering wash over me. Zayan moves away, not by much, but just enough to give Amal space to start breakfast.
Our hands remain linked throughout our recounting of how our relationship started, per Maha’s demands to start from the beginning. The real beginning.
And as we’re stuffing our faces with buttermilk waffles, the weight of our clasped hands anchoring me to this moment, I’m suffused with a feeling of contentment – but it can’t cover the discordant twinge in my chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I’d like to say I had enough willpower to call The Tragedies straight after my breakfast with Zayan and the girls, but I still haven’t unblocked them. I’m too afraid to. I know Zayan said that if I shared the truth with The Tragedies and Gibitah, they’d be willing to listen and accept my struggles.
But a part of me still doesn’t believe it.
On the upside, I did return to classes. With only nine days left before the play, I haven’t been sparing a thought for lectures and seminars. Now that I don’t have the play, I’m going to throw myself into studying to occupy myself.
But I’d forgotten how boring some of these lectures were. It’s not the content; it’s the professor’s voice. All slow and monotone. My mind drifts to Zayan and how he dropped me off this morning – we still haven’t defined what our future looks like, but it’s the conversation I’m least afraid of now.
‘Excuse me,’ a voice whispers beside me, and I jolt out of the memory. It’s a guy behind me, his face apologetic. ‘I dropped my pen and it’s rolled under your seat; would you be able to pass it, please?’
I give him a quick smile and lean forward to grab it.
And that’s when my eyes meet hers.
The girl from the library. Maisie. She’s reaching down to get the pen as well. I hadn’t realized that we were sitting together. Her lips curl into a smirk, her hand snatching the pen out of my reach. She hands it back, then looks down at me again, mirth in her eyes.
‘Just not fast enough,’ she murmurs, low enough for me to hear.
She doesn’t say the word again. The slur. She’s not surrounded by her friends this time. She doesn’t have the comfort of a group to keep her safe, to make her bold. But there’s a look in her eyes that tells me she’s thinking of it – replaying that word in her head, taunting and loud – and I hear it like we share some sick telepathic connection.
At first, I feel that familiar silence wrapping round my tongue like an iron manacle, but then images of The Tragedies flash across my mind, and Zayan’s words whisper in my ears.
It’s also an awful punishment. To remain silent and be forced to endure.
I have nothing left to lose. Nothing left that I haven’t let others take away from me. The thin thread that was holding me together snaps.
‘Say it again,’ I demand, keeping my voice level.
Maisie shoots me a confused look, laughing slightly. Everyone else’s attention is locked on the professor, though some look my way.
‘Go on. Say. It. Again,’ I dare, my voice dipping dangerously. ‘If you have the nerve, say it to my face this time.’
