Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
When I first got my script in hand, I walked through my house clutching the freshly bound pages, sniffing the crisp paper, and hugging them against my chest. It felt so good to be back at work. I’ve memorized all my lines—and all my co-stars’ too. I’m so ready, it’s ridiculous.
It’s nighttime. I stand in front of my sliding glass doors, feeling dwarfed by the size of them. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe this is my home. That I bought it myself.
My beginnings weren’t just humble—they were distressing. I study the reflection staring back at me. Her eyes are solid. Mouth relaxed. She’s real. I could pinch myself and feel it.
My gaze moves past the glass to the pool outside, the aqua blue water flickering with the wind. I’ve made it. I have a home I love. A swimming pool. A career. I used to fantasize about this life—and now, I’m living it.
Script in hand, lines ready to be performed, I pause and ask myself: How do I feel about me?
Before I can answer, my phone rings, announcing Anne Park.
I rush to my desk, grab my device, and swipe to answer. Anne only calls at this hour when it’s something work-related.
“Hey. Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks.
I stiffen. Tomorrow? “Um…” I rush to my desktop computer and open the calendar app. I can’t believe I missed something so important that Anne would call and remind me. At some point, I really need to hire an assistant.
“You don’t remember?” she asks.
The date block is empty. But I click on it anyway, just in case. “If production’s starting tomorrow instead of in two weeks, I’m still good. I know my—”
“No. That’s not what you’ve forgotten, Zara.”
Her voice makes me go still. Alert.
“Then, what have I forgotten?” I ask, pulse beginning to race.