Dimple gave her a sad look. “What you’re describing is unconditional love. And it does not exist.”
But even an ocean away, Saffi’s parents still worried about her. They accepted that she wouldn’t call, text—hell, even email—and settled on a postcard every few months. They met her in the middle. If not unconditional love, then what was that?
“It’s not real,” Dimple said, “and I will prove it to you.”
“That’s ominous,” Saffi muttered. “If you kill my family, I’ll make you regret it.”
Dimple looked at her as though it was the silliest thing she’d ever heard. “It’s a wonder the way your mind works. Such extremes you go to. Relax, Saffi. What would murder prove?”
But Saffi couldn’t relax. Not when she felt like she’d just been trapped in a burning building.
“WhyDimple?” she asked suddenly. Another question that had been on her mind for some time. If she was going to burn anyway, she wanted to make the most of it. “As your new name—whyDimple?” It wasn’t uncommon in some parts of the world, but there had to be a reason she had chosen it for herself.
Dimple studied her curiously. “You’re full of questions today.”
“Only because you’re full of answers.”
That response seemed to amuse her. Dimple sighed, leaning back against her seat. There was a flash of red and Saffi looked over just in time to see the lighter. How the hell had she gotten that past security? Saffi turned to check if anyone was watching, but the flight attendants had disappeared. It was then that she realized the plane had already taken off. Neither of them had noticed.
Saffi watched as Dimple weaved the lighter between her fingers. A few times she looked like she might ignite the flame, but she always stopped herself short. There was no need for it, really, when Dimple herself was fire personified.
“Don’t you get tired of setting fires?” Saffi asked. The lengths Dimple had gone to just to hold on. To her career, to her image, to the damn lighter. “Don’t you wonder what life is like when the smoke clears?”
This drew her attention, molten brown irises looking at Saffi as though seeing straight through to her core. “Don’t you get tired of running?” she asked, which was fair enough. Because of course Saffi did. That didn’t mean she knew how to stop.
They made a funny pair: the fire starter and the evacuator.
There was so much more Saffi wanted to ask, but she was beginning to realize that somehow, to some extent, Dimple had begun to understand her in return. And Saffi wasn’t so sure this was a trade-off she was willing to make.
It was never a good thing to be known.
Cutting through the silence, Dimple finally answered. “When I was sixteen, I was hiding out in the attic and I found these journals that my mother used to write. She was very depressed while she was pregnant with me and it seemed like, other than sleeping, writing was all she had the energy for. She used to say that she was absorbing all of my sadness so that I could be happy for the rest of my life. That was why she’d always refer to me asDimple.She never did get the chance to decide on a name before she died. I suppose that one day I decided I wanted to be Dimple forever.”
“Isn’t that unconditional love?” Saffi asked.
Dimple gave her a sad smile. “My mother was taken from this world and my aunt and uncle were allowed to live. Isn’t that proof enough that this universe is too cruel to allow for the existence of something so pure and altruistic?”
Saffi had nothing to say in response.
Chapter Thirty-Two
September 5, 2026
Dimple had frozenin place when she finally unveiled her dress for the premiere.
They’d checked into the hotel a few hours ago. Saffi, clearly exhausted, went to her own room while Priyal took off to explore the city. Dimple, on the other hand, had spent her free time trying to expel the lingering paranoia from her mind. She had a plan in place, but at the same time, she kept thinking back to their conversation on the plane. To the promise she had made to Saffi.
It isn’t real and I will prove it to you.
The words were easy enough to say, spurred on by the challenge of putting on a good show, but there was a chance Saffi would never understand. Dimple could go through all the trouble of enlightening Saffi, and she’d only despise her for it. Would this be the thing that finally extinguished the fire that drew Saffi’s gaze? The thought unsettled her more than it should have.
The dress, though? The sight of it alone was enough to wipe her mind clean.
“Stunning, right?”
Dimple’s head whipped around to stare, awestruck, at Priyal. She should’ve noticed something was amiss. Priyal had returned to help her get ready for the main event, but instead of chatting her ear off like she usually did, the girl had been oddly quiet. So quiet thatDimple worried their time apart had strained their easy companionship.
She’d handed Dimple a particularly bitter dark roast coffee and stood off to the side with her lips pressed together. Now, though, Dimple could see that she’d been suppressing a smile. The awkward pose she’d taken up was because she was attempting to record her reaction. Dimple subconsciously twirled a strand of hair, switching stances to highlight her good side.
