Saffi didn’t cry. She didn’t get angry either. The numbness had never left, and she was beginning to think it never would. Her father, the very man who’d taught her the meaning of justice, had declared her immoral. Judge, jury, executioner, he was all three in one. And she wasn’t even the first item on his agenda. A single thought ran through her mind.
Dimple had been right.
There was no such thing as unconditional love.
—
Saffi felt strippedraw by the time she joined Taylor in the hallway.
“Atlas isn’t picking up my calls,” Taylor said.
He didn’t mention her parents, somehow sensing that she didn’t want to talk about it, which Saffi was grateful for. It probably helped that there were other things to worry about. Because if Andino was screening even Taylor’s calls, it couldn’t just be grief keeping him away. Saffi kept inadvertently glancing around in search of him. Instead, her attention landed on a red envelope sitting on a table beside the office’s entrance.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking itup.
“It came in earlier,” he said. “I think it’s for Atlas, he opened it.”
The handwriting on the front was the most beautiful cursive Saffi had ever seen. There was no return address, but it was definitely addressed to Saffi Mirai Iyer, not Atlas Andino.
“Could you maybe commit mail fraud later?” Taylor asked, sounding uncharacteristically strained, but Saffi ignored him in favor of ripping the thick envelope apart. She didn’t need to—it was already open—but it felt good.
Inside was a small square of paper. It was heavy, good quality—unlike the hotel room’s memos. Saffi unfolded it while Taylor, now curious, watched. If Andino were here, he’d make some sort of quip like,That’s your eviction notice.Except Andino had already looked through this, hadn’t he? Right before he’d stormed out.
She scanned the text, written in the same neat cursive, and immediately crumpled the paper in her fist, understanding dawning on her. She knew where Andino had gone.
My Dearest Saffi,
I’m sorry.
-D
Chapter Thirty-Eight
September 8, 2026
Shooting for herlatest film had long since wrapped for the day, but Dimple had stayed behind to speak with the director, making her the last one on set now. Rarely did anyone want to linger too long, the director rushing out the door as soon as their conversation was over. Clearly, he was no Jerome Bardoux. But Dimple couldn’t help it, she had concerns regarding her character arc. Although the writing wasn’t quite as strong, this film needed to do just as well asInsomnia.No, it needed to do better.
Dimple found herself missing her old coworkers. Even Chris Porter, to an extent. They’d all gotten along relatively well, all eager to do a good job. For many of them,Insomniahad been their first film of such caliber. However, Dimple was beginning to realize that those environments were rare.
“Are you sure you’re not upset about me leaving the festival early?” Priyal asked. She’d dressed up today—done her hair and makeup as though she had a red carpet of her own after work.
“I’m quite certain,” Dimple reassured her for the third time. The two of them were in Dimple’s trailer, just about ready to go home for the day. She was waiting for Priyal to finish editing some photos on her laptop first. “You have to take every opportunity you get in this business.”
“Sure, but I don’t want to hurt my friends in the process.”
The sincerity in her tone made Dimple pause. “While I appreciate that, you didn’t hurt me.” Priyal wasn’t capable ofit.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“The good news is, you’ll only have to worry about it for another two weeks.” It was a miserable thought. Soon, Dimple would have to take care of her own social accounts. She would have to buy her own coffee. She’d spend most of her days alone. Because the thought of hiring someone else, of giving yet another person the chance to grow close to her, was unthinkable. She’d been trying not to dwell on it, throwing herself into her work instead.
“Right,” Priyal said. “But we’ll still hang out, won’t we? Maybe we’ll even see each other at the same events.”
Dimple tried to imagine it. She’d already spent some of the most important days of her life with Priyal by her side. How different would it be with her there to promote her own work? Where once Priyal’s brilliance was used to further Dimple’s career, what would happen when she used it to further her own instead?
Priyal had always been endearingly charming. Dimple’s co-stars had taken to her immediately. In a world where Priyal herself was a star, how quickly would Dimple fade into the shadows?
“Of course,” Dimple replied.
