38. Aarti
AARTI
After hours in hair and makeup, a glammed-up Diti pulls at the ends of my sequined purple bowtie and gives me a satisfied nod.
She steps to the side and I see myself in the mirror for the first time today, clad in head-to-toe purple in my silk suit, face beat to the gods.
In less than an hour, I’ll be standing near Noa on the red carpet for the premiere at a plausibly deniable distance for coworkers.
I’ve decided I’m okay with it. Like Diti said, it’s just for now.
I get a text letting me know our SUV is downstairs.
“You ready?” Diti asks, nudging me with her elbow.
I admire myself one last time in the mirror and push all of the uncomfortable feelings in my gut aside. This is it. This is the moment I’ve prepared my whole life for. It’s finally here.
“Ready,” I grin.
Diti adjusts her dark blue sari as our car pulls up to Hollywood Boulevard.
“How do I look? Anything in my teeth?” she asks, baring her entire mouth for me to inspect.
“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” I laugh.
“Mom and Dad are right in front of us! Eeeee!” she squeals. “Can you believe it’s really happening?”
She gives my hand a squeeze and as I look out the window, I spot Aiden in a white tux paired with a frilly rainbow blouse, and next to him…
Noa stands in a light blue chiffon dress with an array of colorful butterflies fanning down its length.
She looks perfectly in place, like a red carpet is exactly where she belongs.
I want nothing more than to stand close to her, to hold her, to kiss her in front of all the flashing cameras for the world to see.
A girl can dream, right?
Ahead of us, my parents are ushered from their car and out to the step and repeat. Maa looks around at the photographers and shoots them a showy grin.
“Think they’ll be proud of me now?” I ask Diti, who turns to me.
“Aart, they’ve always been proud of you.”
The back door of the SUV opens and I step out to yells of “Aarti! Aarti, here!” from the photographers lining the carpet.
I pop out my right hip and stick a thumb in my pocket, flashing my best smize.
A handler approaches, escorting Noa into my shot, and our eyes meet as we see each other for the first time in days. She looks even more beautiful up close.
I lean in and whisper, “You look incredible,” pulling away fast enough that no one would suspect I was uttering sweet nothings.
Photographers yell our names and for the first time, I actually feel like Diti was right, like maybe we can successfully lead these double lives, as long as we’re together.
We walk down the carpet toward entertainment correspondent Ryan Delaney, whose megawatt smile and slicked-back hair scream I peaked as prom king .
“Aarti Nair! The woman of the hour!” He thrusts the mic at us. “And Dr. Noa Hart! You two have been setting the internet on fire with that Variety cover.”
“Thank you so much, Ryan,” I say, slipping into my media-trained voice.
“The chemistry between you two is just…” he makes a ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture. “Electric! Can you comment on the controversy that’s arisen accusing you of queerbaiting?”
I feel Noa tense beside me, but I barrel forward, heeding Gretchen’s warnings.
“You know, Ryan, I think what people are responding to is the genuine connection between two women who respect each other’s talents,” I say, throwing a megawatt smile in Noa’s direction.
“When you put passionate people who care about their craft in the same room, that energy is going to translate on screen. We’re great friends, and we can’t wait for folks to watch the segment. Right, Noa?”
Noa manages a tight smile. “Right.”
“Break a leg tonight, Aarti!”
“Thanks so much, Ryan,” I say, already moving on.
“I need to go,” Noa mutters as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Where are you–?”
The same handler from earlier escorts my family to me. I lose sight of Noa in the crowd as my parents pull me in for a hug.
My dad gives me a peck on the cheek.
“Beta, this is… this is all for you!” he beams.
“I could get used to this!” Maa grins from ear to ear. “Now show me how you pose with your hips like this.” She juts her hip forward, imitating my go-to red carpet pose.
I sneak a look at Diti and she shoots me a told-ya-so gleam.
My phone buzzes with a text from Uncle Arjun.
He’s sent a selfie of him and Benny and dozens of their friends, all gathered in their living room wearing Midnight Live and Face First Tour merch.
They’re hosting a massive watch party at their home, and while I’m touched by the support, a part of me wishes the two of them were standing here with my parents right now, all together as a family.
After a few more snaps and interviews, Madge waves me over from the sidelines. Her tie matches her bright green hair, but she’s otherwise sleek in a head-to-toe black suit. I join her at the other end of the red carpet, wrapping my arm around her waist and posing.
“Thank you, Madge. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“There’s literally no one else I’d ever want to make this happen for.” She gives me a smile but tucks in her lips like she has something else to say.
“You good?” I ask, all the cameras still flashing our way.
“Yeah, it’s Noa, actually,” she says.
I turn to face her, suddenly unconcerned with the cameras.
“She, uh, didn’t want to take any more photos. Said she needed to drop something in the office.”
My desire to stay on the carpet a second longer vanishes. I give Madge a nod and wave to the cameras before I duck into the CBT building.
The ground floor is buzzing with audience members standing in line to be let in. They jump up and down at the sight of me. While I’m used to being recognized, this is a whole new ballgame. I give them a quick wave and a “see ya soon!” then head toward the production wing.
Our offices are the quietest they’ve been in months with all of the show commotion culminating outside. I peek my head into the writers’ room–nothing–and head down the hall to my office. I almost don’t see her, crouched down to the height of the mini fridge behind my desk.
“Noa?”
She stands quickly, closing the fridge door. “I thought you’d still be taking photos.”
“Madge said you left.” I step closer, noting her rigid posture. “What’s going on?”
“I needed to drop something off before I go.” Her voice is flat, controlled.
“Are you not staying?”
She finally looks at me directly, and I see tears threatening to spill. “I can’t do this, Aarti.”
“Do what?”
“This.” She gestures between us. “Stand next to you to smile and pretend like we’re just two friends who respect each other’s talents.”
Hearing my words quoted back to me stings.
“Noa, you know that’s not the truth. If I could, I would shout it from the rooftops how crazy I am about you.”
A tear tracks down her cheek. “You could , but you won’t.”
“I would lose everything.”
She shakes her head sadly. “And if I stay, I’ll lose myself.”
I think back to Noa rolling out dumpling dough in my kitchen, ready to forgo the luxury of natural light in order for us to be together. “I don’t want you to lose yourself. I really, really do not want that. But the other night, you–”
Her smile is bitter. “I know. And I’m sorry.
That’s what I do, that’s what I’ve always done, and I’m making this decision now because I need to change the way I live my life.
I’ve always been so ready to give up my sovereignty, my fulfillment, my needs, if it meant I could be loved.
” The tears spill over in a cascade now.
“But if I don’t start loving myself, I’m never going to break that pattern. ”
The pain is almost too much for me to bear. I want to double over, fall to the ground, beat my fists into the earth.
Noa looks at me, mascara smudged around her hazel eyes. “I hope you like your ice cream. And I hope your show goes really well and that people love our segment. And I hope you find your happiness.”
“You’re just walking away? On the biggest night of my life?” I hate how accusatory and biting I sound, when inside I’ve never felt more guilt-ridden and helpless.
“I’m walking away because it’s the biggest night of your life,” she says. “Because you deserve to have your moment without me complicating it. And because I deserve…” She pauses, gathering herself. “I deserve to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me out loud.”
The words hit like physical blows.
“I’m not afraid to love you–”
“You’re afraid of what it will mean for you. And I get it. But you were right. I can’t–” her voice breaks. “I can’t make myself small to keep your fears at bay.”
She moves toward the door, and I want to stop her, want to say something that will fix this, but what can I offer? I have no right to push back and I don’t even want to. I love her. Why would I try to change her mind?
She pauses in the doorframe. “You’re beautiful, Aarti. The world deserves to know all of you. There’s another life out there waiting for you if you’re brave enough to go find it.”
Then Noa brushes past me, to Aiden who’s appeared down the hall. He throws me a sad smile, and then they’re gone, leaving me alone in my office, in my sequined suit, about to host the biggest show of my career with a heart that’s shattered.
My opener starts in fifteen minutes. I need to get downstairs, need to fix my face, need to be the version of Aarti Nair that everyone expects.
But all I can think about is the version of me that Noa sees–the one that’s apparently too beautiful, too true, for the world not to experience.
The one I’m about to lock away for good.