I arrive home earlier than I expected. I meet my family in the dining room, eating a turkey sandwich. I scamper restlessly past them, addled by my problem. "Come back here," my mother commands. "Have you lost your manners? What kind of child walks past her parents without greeting them?"
"Calm down, Mary, that is honestly too harsh. You can see how absentminded she was when she walked past us. It wasn't intentional. Elara, apologize to your mom," my dad says, trying to control the tension growing.
I walk reluctantly to my mom. "I am so sorry, Mum. It wasn't deliberate of me to ridicule you. My mind was miles away."
"Come join us, the food is delicious. Amelia made it," Leo, my younger brother, gleans with a smile. He slides a plate of sandwiches toward an empty seat beside him, urging me to sit.
"I am not hungry," I mumble rebelliously.
Amelia, my elder sister, stares at me. She notices the sadness in my eyes, She sets down her half-eaten sandwich anxiously. "You look uneasy. Did you just come back from the hospital?"
I try to respond to her, but the dam I have been holding inside me breaks. I burst into heartbreak, crying heavily as if it could heal me. They all refrain from eating, rushing toward me to offer comfort. "Don't get yourself hung up over your problem. You are going to win this. It won't kill you. Please eat something so that you will be able to take your drugs," my mom says, trying to coax me into eating.
I recoil from my mom's soothing hands and escape, stumbling toward my room. They all race after me, but before they can reach my door, I've already slammed it shut behind me. My father rests his body against the door as if he could push it open."Elara, please don't let this break you. I promise to do everything in my power to help you overcome this. Open the door, we are all worried about you."
"Please open this door," my mother adds. I can sense the perplexity in her voice.
Amelia is softer, and every word she utters cuts deep into my heart. "I know how it feels bestie… when it feels like your body is turning against you and you can't do anything to protect yourself. I know it feels like the pain is endless and there is no solution, but I want you to know this: every predicament has a solution. Don't let this weigh you down before you find yours. You don't have to carry this alone. Let us in, let us carry some of it with you. You know how much we love you. Please… I don't wanna lose you."
Their words press through the door, full of love and fear, but unfortunately, I am adamant about opening the door. I just want to be left alone.
"I think she needs to be left alone for now. Sometimes crying can relieve us of our pain. She might feel better afterwards," my father suggests. They all turn back immediately, and the sound of their footsteps recedes down the corridor. It fades into silence within minutes.
I sit helplessly on my bed, my hands wrapped around my knees. I try as much as I can to restrain myself from crying, but the more I try, the more the tears gush out. I weep unceasingly until I grow weaker. I don't even realize when exhaustion drags me into sleep. I sleep so wholeheartedly that I completely forget I have a scene to shoot the next morning.
My phone rings several times, but I am too tired to care about the relentless buzzing. To my dismay, the person won't stop calling. I roll lazily across the bed before I finally pick up my phone to see who's calling. My eyes go wide the moment I see the caller. "Oh my God… eight missed calls from the director!"
"Hello," I mumble.
"You are yet to be at the location. Why? Are you doing this because you think being a star makes you untouchable? Why are you so inconsiderate? You and Amid ruined enough yesterday, and now you want to wreck the entire shoot. You have one hour to be here. If you fail, your role will be given to someone else, and you will refund every dime you have collected from this project so far."
He hangs up on me before I can even defend myself. I jolt up, rush to take a quick shower, and hurry to the location. I know how desperately I need to rest, but I can't afford to disappoint the director for the second time.
I get there and spot the director in the Art Department office talking to the crew. The moment he sights me, his face contorts with anger. He emerges toward me. "Why are you just getting here? What kind of ruinous habit is this? Is being late a way of showing contempt for the entire crew, or are you just under the impression that you are more valuable than everyone?"
I swallow hard ruefully. "My profound apologies, sir. It wasn't deliberate to keep the entire crew waiting. Sincerely, I'm not feeling too well."
The director doesn't look pleased at all. "Feeling ill doesn't excuse this level of irresponsibility. This is a film production organization, not your personal playground. If everyone behaved like you, nothing would ever get done." Another familiar voice cuts through the tension like a blade. It's Amid. "I told you all she's full of herself."
I am going to tell him a piece of my mind, but Maurice steps in. "That's enough for both of you. She already apologized with a valid reason. Let's not waste more time arguing. Can we please proceed with the shoot?" He turns to me. "How are you feeling now? I am so sorry I wasn't here yesterday. I was completely down."
I blush inwardly. "It's okay, Maurice. Hope you are good now. Honestly, you being absent yesterday caused a lot of commotion. If you had been around, that fool wouldn't have had the opportunity to rat on me."
Amid storms between us. "How dare you call me a fool?" I give him the most disgusted look I can muster. "It's interesting how fast you recognized yourself. I didn't even mention names, but you know exactly who you are."
"Don't you dare talk to me like that," he growls. "That will do. I need silence from both sides. We are here to work, not to re-enact your personal war. Everyone back to your positions. We are rolling in five," the director says, rubbing his forehead as if he's fighting a headache.
The whole crew scatters as we begin the drama. I am so happy because the day I have been daydreaming about is finally here.
"Action!" the director orders.
Maurice unbuttons his shirt as he slips effortlessly into character. He grabs my waist, pulling me against his heart with a disarming tenderness. "You think he's the only one who cares for you? No, I also do. Every poisoned meal meant for you, I swapped. Those bills you thought were some kind of miracle, I paid them. I have always been there for you anonymously. I let you hate me so you could live."
"You did all that, and I never knew… why would you do that?" I whisper breathlessly.
"Because the girl I was supposed to destroy became the only one I would kill to protect. I love you, Isla. I always have. I just couldn't tell you because of the problems surrounding my feelings for you. Please don't turn me down." He takes my right hand and presses it to his chest, holding my gaze in a tender, unbreakable lock. A rush shoots through me. I'm suddenly desperate for his lips on mine. "You feel that? My heart. It beats for only one person in the world, and that person is you."
His grip on my waist tightens. Then he leans in and kisses me, slow, deep, and consuming. I melt into him, kissing him back without a second thought. The world fades; there's only us. We kiss lustfully, completely forgetting that it is acting.
"Cut! Cut!" the director shouts jokingly, but we are too lost in each other's lips. I think the feelings I have for him are mutual.
"That's enough. You two can continue inside his room," the director teases. That snaps us back to our senses. We break apart breathlessly. My face burns with embarrassment, but the truth is… I enjoyed it. I didn't want it to end.
Amid claps his hands insistently, drawing everyone's attention. His eyes dart between Maurice and me. "So that's what you call filming? Kissing him like you were starving for it, like you couldn't get enough. You were so lost that you didn't even hear when the director asked you to stop. Are you that much of a flirt?"
I turn on him. "You don't get to comment on what I do. It's none of your business."
"Watch what you say around her. You don't exchange words with a woman like that. Where is your dignity?" Maurice says, his voice full of reproach.
Suddenly, the weakness I felt yesterday that carried me to the hospital re-emerges. I try to shudder away from the place; I don't want anyone to know about my sickness. But my body betrays me, and I collapse forward straight into Maurice's arms.
"Elara!" he rambles, catching me before I hit the floor.
Amid's earlier irritation evaporates into panic. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know she was really unwell. Hospital! Let's take her to the hospital!"
The crew swarms around us, their voices rising in a tangled mix of questions and alarm. The last thing I feel is Maurice's arms tightening around me…