When the meeting ended, Aurora had written the same sentence twice.
She only noticed when the others started getting up.
She lowered her eyes to her notebook.
Because he doesn't tell her.
And, two lines below:
Because he doesn't tell her.
Aurora stared at the words for a few seconds.
Then she crossed out the second sentence.
Ridiculous.
It had been an answer about a character.
Nothing more.
She closed the notebook.
"Aurora."
She looked up.
Thomas was still sitting across the table.
Everyone else had started gathering their things, but he had already opened another document on his tablet.
"Yes?"
"We need to talk about casting."
That immediately brought her attention back to work.
Thomas turned the screen toward her.
A preliminary schedule filled almost the entire display.
Dates.
Columns.
Deadlines.
More dates.
Aurora leaned slightly forward.
"Are we already casting?"
"We're preparing for it."
Thomas pointed to one section.
"Not auditions. Not yet. But if we wait until every page of the adaptation is finalized before we start preparing, we'll lose weeks."
Aurora nodded slowly.
It made sense.
Thomas continued.
"I need character profiles. The leads first. Playing age, any physical requirements, availability, anything that could affect production."
He paused.
"And I need to know what kind of actors we're actually looking for."
Aurora looked at him.
"You're asking me."
"You're the one who'll be directing them."
The answer came so simply that, for a second, Aurora said nothing.
Of course he was asking her.
It was her job.
And yet hearing Thomas say it made everything feel different.
Until then, director had been a word written on a folder.
Something said during a meeting.
Something Ethan had congratulated her on.
A word she herself had repeated in front of the mirror simply because she still liked the way it sounded.
This was different.
Someone was waiting for her decision.
A real decision.
A decision that, sooner or later, would become a face on a screen.
Aurora straightened slightly.
"I'll start with the two leads."
Thomas nodded.
"Good."
Then he added,
"And don't write me a description of the characters from the novel. I can read."
Aurora raised an eyebrow.
Thomas didn't smile.
"I need to know who can play them."
"I know."
"Good."
He picked up his tablet.
"Tomorrow."
Aurora stared at him.
"Tomorrow?"
"Preliminary profiles."
"That's not much time."
"No."
Thomas stood.
"Production rarely gives you enough."
He headed toward the door.
Then stopped.
"One more thing."
Aurora waited.
"Don't cast the roles in your head already."
She frowned slightly.
Thomas glanced at the copy of The Space Between Us in front of her.
"People fall in love with an image while they're reading. Then they waste three weeks looking for someone who doesn't exist."
He looked back at her.
"Find the actor. Not the fantasy."
Then he left.
Aurora remained seated.
Mia, who was closing her laptop beside her, looked toward the door.
"I think that was his version of encouragement."
Aurora picked up the novel.
"I feel very encouraged."
"I can tell."
They worked at Aurora's desk.
Not because it was the best place.
Mostly because Mia had already covered half of her own with papers.
Aurora opened a blank document.
At the top, she typed:
MALE LEAD — PRELIMINARY CASTING PROFILE
Then she stopped.
Mia continued working beside her.
The office had settled into its usual afternoon rhythm.
Every now and then, a phone rang farther down the hall.
Someone crossed the corridor carrying two folders.
Somewhere behind them came the low mechanical hum of a printer.
Aurora looked at the empty space beneath the heading.
She had already read that character.
More than once.
But reading a character and imagining the person who would have to become him were two completely different things.
She opened the novel again.
The first description was almost useless.
Dark clothes.
Headphones.
Closed expression.
Aurora started typing.
Early twenties in the first timeline. A more mature appearance required for the later material, depending on the structure of the adaptation.
She stopped.
Deleted the second sentence.
Too soon.
She turned the page.
Quiet.
Reserved.
Controlled in his movements.
Not cold in the conventional sense of the word.
Aurora's fingers hovered over the keyboard.
That wasn't right either.
Being cold was easy.
Anyone could play someone cold.
The character wasn't supposed to look angry at the world.
He simply behaved as though he didn't need anything from it.
Aurora started typing again.
Must be able to communicate without relying too heavily on dialogue.
Better.
She continued.
Strong screen presence without appearing deliberately charismatic.
Aurora stopped.
Read the sentence again.
Something bothered her.
She moved farther down the document.
Emotionally restrained. Reactions should be subtle, not absent.
Her fingers slowed.
Mia turned a page beside her.
Aurora looked back at the novel.
He ran in the mornings.
Few words.
The habit of observing before answering.
That irritating ability to make a sentence sound final without even raising his voice.
Aurora tightened her jaw slightly.
She typed:
Must be believable as someone who appears detached while remaining extremely attentive to his surroundings.
She stared at the sentence.
Then leaned back in her chair.
Mia kept working.
Aurora looked toward the glass wall without really meaning to.
Leon's office was visible farther down.
Empty.
She immediately turned her attention back to the screen.
No.
She deleted extremely attentive.
Typed it again.
Deleted it again.
Mia finally stopped.
"What are you doing?"
"Working."
"You've deleted the same five words three times."
Aurora turned toward her.
"Are you watching me work?"
"Unfortunately."
Aurora went back to the profile.
Another detail.
He doesn't speak unless he has something to say.
She almost typed it.
She didn't.
Another.
He can seem indifferent even when he's noticed everything.
Her fingers stopped again.
Aurora slowly exhaled through her nose.
"He's annoying."
Mia didn't look away from her laptop.
"Who?"
"Him."
That made her look up.
Aurora tapped the cover of the book once with her finger.
"The protagonist."
Mia waited.
Aurora stared at the profile.
Then the words came out before she could decide whether she actually wanted to say them.
"He's too much like Leon."
Silence.
Aurora immediately regretted saying it out loud.
Mia looked at the screen.
Then at the book.
Then at Aurora.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You just said—"
"I know what I said."
Aurora turned back to the computer.
Mia remained silent for a few seconds.
That was worse.
Aurora could feel her looking at her.
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You don't need to."
Mia returned to her laptop.
Aurora tried to continue.
Dark hair wasn't necessary.
His height could vary within reason.
The actor needed presence more than any particular physical characteristic.
That was the sensible way to approach it.
The professional way.
She typed another line.
Then stopped again.
At this rate, they might as well—
Aurora cut the thought off.
Absolutely not.
She rubbed her forehead.
Mia's lips moved slightly.
Aurora turned.
"Are you smiling?"
"No."
"You are."
"I'm working."
Aurora narrowed her eyes.
Mia didn't look up.
"Very professionally."
Aurora went back to the profile.
A little over an hour later, Rachel appeared beside their desks.
She was holding several pages covered in notes.
"Mia."
Mia looked up.
"I went through the sections we talked about."
She handed her the pages.
Mia quickly skimmed the first one.
"You cut less than I expected."
"Because he rejected half the things I wanted to cut."
Aurora looked up before she even realized it.
Rachel noticed.
"Leon."
Of course.
Mia kept reading.
"He rejected them?"
"Not exactly."
Rachel pulled out the chair across from them and sat down.
"He asked me what each change would improve."
"And?"
"For some of them, I had an answer."
Mia turned the page.
"And the others?"
"I put them back."
Mia smiled slightly.
"Fair."
Rachel leaned a little over the desk.
"He doesn't care if something changes because the medium requires it. He cares when we change something simply because we can."
Aurora understood that immediately.
More than she wanted to.
Leon had always been like that.
If something had a reason, he could accept it.
If it didn't—
No.
Aurora lowered her eyes to her document.
That wasn't useful right now.
Rachel continued discussing the pages with Mia.
One scene could be shortened.
Another needed to remain almost untouched.
A third worked on the page but would need a visual solution.
Aurora listened while pretending not to.
Eventually, Rachel gathered the pages again.
"I need to go over the next section with Leon."
Mia nodded.
"I'll finish these and send them over."
Rachel stood.
Then she looked at Aurora's screen.
"Casting?"
"Preliminary profiles."
"How's it going?"
Aurora glanced at the male lead's profile.
"Slowly."
Rachel smiled.
"He's difficult."
Aurora looked at her.
"The character."
"Very."
Rachel adjusted the pages in her hands.
"I told Leon the same thing the first time I read it."
Aurora's attention sharpened.
"And what did he say?"
Rachel thought for a moment.
"That he wasn't supposed to be easy."
Aurora didn't answer.
Rachel gave them a small nod.
"I'll be upstairs."
She walked away.
Aurora followed her with her eyes for a second.
Then another.
Rachel didn't head toward the elevator.
She went straight toward Leon's office.
The door was open now.
Leon had returned without Aurora noticing.
He was sitting behind his desk, reading something on his laptop.
Rachel knocked once against the doorframe.
Leon looked up.
She raised the pages.
He gestured for her to come in.
Rachel entered.
The door remained open.
Nothing strange.
Nothing remotely interesting.
Two people working.
Aurora turned back to the screen.
Mia typed beside her.
A few seconds passed.
Aurora read the same sentence three times.
Must be able to communicate without relying too heavily on dialogue.
She placed the cursor at the end.
Didn't type.
From where she was sitting, she couldn't hear anything coming from Leon's office.
She shouldn't have been able to.
It was too far away.
Aurora looked in that direction again anyway.
Rachel was standing beside the desk now.
Leon pointed to something on one of the pages.
Rachel leaned slightly closer to look.
She said something.
Leon replied.
Rachel shook her head.
Leon turned the page.
That was it.
Work.
Aurora looked back at the screen.
Why did she care?
She didn't.
More importantly, she had her own work to do.
Real work.
Her first series.
Her first casting profile.
Her responsibility.
Aurora placed both hands on the keyboard.
"Okay."
Mia looked at her.
"Okay what?"
"Nothing."
Aurora started typing again.
This time, she didn't stop.
The actor must be able to make silence feel intentional, not empty.
Her fingers froze.
She read the sentence once.
Then left it there.
Mia leaned slightly toward the screen.
"That one."
Aurora looked at her.
"What?"
"Keep it."
Aurora read it again.
The actor must be able to make silence feel intentional, not empty.
Her eyes shifted, almost involuntarily, toward the glass office one last time.
Leon was still reading.
Rachel was still beside him.
Aurora turned back to the screen.
"Yeah."
She saved the document.
"That one stays."