The Ending is the Best Part

Chapter One

This is it.

Things are finally looking up for me.

Sure, I’ve had a few knockbacks, like my ex-boyfriend Theo cheating on me and getting into a relationship with the girl he did it with, but I’m basically over that.

Even if it has been two – okay, three years since it happened.

Oh, and then there was that whole thing of almost setting my flat on fire.

Can I just clarify the almost in that scenario? I may or may not have forgotten to turn the stove off.

But the thing is ancient, and like everything else in the flat my landlord refuses to replace it.

I mean there wasn’t even a full-blown fire, just a few flames and a burnt wooden spoon, so does it even count?

My dating life might be in shambles and my housing situation is less than ideal, but professionally I am truly living my best life at twenty-five years old.

Not to blow my own horn, but I am working my dream job as a junior staff writer on one of the most successful television shows of all time, Claim to Power.

You know the one.

It’s got dragons, fairies, kings and queens in it.

And an epic storyline full of high-stakes battles and political intrigue, not to mention the slow-burn enemies-to-lovers plot that’s been building up over the last few seasons.

You can thank me for that particular detail.

And today, my boss has called me in for a one-on-one meeting.

She only does that to fire people or promote them.

I know I haven’t done anything that would cause me to get fired and I’m not going to lie, work has been going pretty well recently.

The senior writers keep asking for my input on how to resolve this or that detail on the show.

They say I’m good on character.

I understand relationships – I told my mum all that time reading Austen and the Bront?s wasn’t a waste. If only that knowledge could extend to my personal life.

Anyway, all of us know that the season finale needs to be written, and someone needs to take the lead.

That someone could be, might be, me.

I love my job.

I’m writing on a show that’s watched by millions and it’s a really supportive workplace.

All those stories you hear about ultra-competitive writers’

rooms? Well, thankfully that hasn’t been my experience.

I like all my co-workers.

Well, all except for one.

But I have good reason, because he is genuinely one of the most insufferable people I have ever met.

Xander. The other junior writer and my number one enemy at work. You might think having .

‘number one enemy’

is a little dramatic, but no. Not for him. He’s your classic pretentious posh boy. A film bro who’ll only talk abou.

‘the greats’: Scorsese, Nolan and Tarantino. Don’t get me wrong, I like their movies as much as the next person with a MUBI subscription, but we can all have a laugh about Tarantino’s foot thing and agree that time Scorsese directed a musical was a Big Mistake. Xander looks down on everything I like: Emily Henry, Bridget Jones and Richard Curtis. He said he hadn’t even heard of Nora Ephron – and somehow the man claims to love film. It’s 2025 and this guy has no social media presence except for Letterboxd, not that I stalked him or anything…

I’ll admit he’s a great writer.

It’s undeniable.

Unfortunately.

He can imbue even the quietest moment with a drama that pretty much no one else can.

He’s brilliant in the storyboarding sessions too.

When it comes to battle scenes and coronations, deaths and complex political manoeuvres, he’s your guy.

But he says he doesn’t get the point of romance.

It’s all just fluff, according to him, a distraction from the ‘proper’

narrative, which probably explains why I always get called in to help him with his scenes that have any character development.

But soon, none of that is going to matter.

Because I have a meeting with my manager Meagan McLean.

You may have heard of her – multiple BAFTA winner and showrunner of Claim to Power and a hundred other huge TV shows.

She’s kind of my hero.

I love how she creates a team spirit among her writers.

She’s obsessed with the idea that a healthy balance of competition and collaboration creates TV magic.

And hey, it works.

Look at the heights she’s climbed. Heights that I’m hoping to follow her to.

If she gives me the lead screenwriter credit, I’ll be able to get any writing gig I want.

Maybe someone will finally commission me to write the throwback nineties rom-com I’ve always dreamed of.

Then, I’ll barely even remember Xander when I’m giving my Oscars speech.

I wonder what I’ll wear? What if I trip on my dress like Jennifer Lawrence? That would be mortifying – and, unfortunately, just like me.

Stop.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

It’s fine, it’s going to be fine.

Let’s ignore all that, because today is going.

To.

Be.

A.

Good. Day.

But just as I approach the double doors to Meagan’s office, I see that a tall, leather-jacket-clad figure behind me is headed in the same direction.

A niggling feeling in my gut begins to form, but nope, I’m not even entertaining any negative thoughts.

This is my big moment, and I won’t let anyone ruin it.

Especially not him.

He’s probably going to the bathroom, which is down the hallway.

But as I walk closer, the footsteps don’t get quieter like I thought they might… they get closer.

I smell his cologne before I see him.

It’s his favourite one, the musky, heady scent he only wears for important meetings with senior writers and the producers. I remember he wore it at the Christmas party three years ago, when he pulled me aside and we, we… We had that really weird chat.

Suddenly Xander’s shoulder brushes past mine and I tilt my head to peer up at him.

‘Oh, hello, Yara, didn’t see you down there.’

Ugh, he’s so patronising. His voice is deep. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s almost velvety with a slight rasp. It always manages to send a tingling feeling down my back – it’s the irritation, I know.

‘Hi, Xandy,’

I throw back at him.

Xandy – where’d I even get that from? As soon as the words escape my mouth, I immediately want to take them back.

What a terrible response! I just know I’m going to be tossing and turning in bed tonight thinking of everything I could have said instead.

Is it hard to see us mere mortals from up on your high horse, you egotistical prick? Oh, you still work here? Timothée Chalamet hasn’t returned your calls, I suppose.

His lip begins to curl up, almost but not fully a smile. Those are reserved for very rare occasions.

‘Did you miss me, Yazza Dazzler?’

‘Trust me, Xander, there will never be a moment in my life where I will ever miss you… and you know it’s Yara.’

When I first started here, my big sister Elif sent a huge bunch of flowers to my desk with a card that said.

‘Congratulations on following your dreams. It’s a long journey but I know you’ll make it, Yazza Dazzler’. I was mortified, but what made it worse was Xander saw the note and started calling me by that stupid family nickname. Despite years of my protesting, somehow it’s stuck.

‘Sorry I must have missed the memo… Yazza.’

I let out an exasperated sigh and carried on walking.

I hear an amused chuckle echo behind me.

Honestly, this man is so infuriating.

It’s like he lives to get a rise out of me.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realise he’s no longer following me.

I guess it was just like I thought.

Bathroom, after all.

I reach the double doors to Meagan’s office, close my eyes and think to myself, This is it. You’ve worked here three years. You’ve risen from coffee and lunch runs to being a real voice in the writers’

room.

You just need a chance to prove yourself, to get that top writing credit.

I enter Meagan’s office.

There are floor-to-ceiling windows offering an expansive view of the London cityscape. I can see right across from Battersea Power Station to the London Eye and the Shard. Perks of being the showrunner and an executive producer, I guess.

‘Ah, Yara, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.’

Meagan looks immaculate, as always. There’s not a hair out of place. From her brand-new Louboutins to the jumper tied round her shoulders, she’s the epitome of stylish yet casual. My eyes take in her beautifully styled blond hair. If her fresh blowout is anything to go by, she uses her hefty hard-earned pay cheque on almost daily trips to the salon.

‘No bother at all,’

I respond, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

‘So, how was your weekend?’

she asks.

Her pale green eyes are gentle and the softness in her gaze puts me at ease.

It’s what I admire so much about Meagan.

She’s kind and she really cares. In an industry full of cut-throat men out for themselves, she shows you can get to the top without losing sight of what really matters.

‘It was great, thank you! I spent Saturday at the park with my friends, trying to make the most out of the weather before it goes all doom and gloom again.

What a gorgeous autumn we’re having! Thank goodness there were no incidents, although I did almost fall into the reservoir, wouldn’t that have been a total disaster?’

Meagan smiles but her eyes widen slightly.

Ah, I’m doing what I always do when I’m nervous.

Oversharing.

Talking at a million miles an hour.

‘And yours?’

I manage to say before I let spill that I spent my Sunday forensically scrolling through Theo’s girlfriend’s Instagram.

Meagan doesn’t need to know about Claire’s 7 a.m.

Pilates class and iced blueberry matcha.

Of course he’s with someone called Claire.

She’s the very image of perfection with her sculpted abs and blemish-free complexion, and to top it all off she’s called Claire.

It’s just so wonderfully lovely, isn’t it? Not that I care.

Not in the slightest. Everyone checks in on their exes from time to time. Even if it has been three years. I just like to keep an eye on him, like a Nintendog.

‘Did you end up going to that new fancy restaurant with M…’

I click my fingers as Meagan’s new partner’s name dances on the top of my tongue.

‘Mike, wasn’t it, Meagan?’

a deep voice rumbles behind me.

Did I say I had a good feeling about today? Well, I am taking it back.

I have never swivelled round on my chair so fast in my life, because right there is my worst nightmare.

‘Xander, what a wonderful surprise,’

I say with such pleasantness I surprise myself.

He raises a dark eyebrow, looking impressed with my acting skills. If Meagan doesn’t promote me, maybe I’ll have a chance for some supporting role as a lady’s maid or healer in Claim to Power.

‘Ah, Xander, nice of you to join us, please take a seat.’

She gestures to the one next to mine.

I’m sorry, did she just say… join us?! I keep my face composed, not wanting to show any hint of irritation.

I don’t dare to look next to me, as I can feel his gaze burning on my face.

A million things are running through my mind.

The first thing that pops up is the worst-case scenario: Are we both getting fired?

But then my thoughts spiral and I think, What if it’s worse than that? But what is worse than getting fired? Maybe blacklisted from the industry, but then what have I done to deserve being blacklisted? Okay, sure, I’m not great at responding to emails quickly.

And although I keep getting told characterisation is one of my strengths, I know my plotting could be better.

A few of my suggestions have been rejected recently, but that’s normal, right? It’s all part of the writing process.

But, of course, it’s always What a great point, Xander and Yes, mate, that really progresses the action.

Classic boys’

club.

Even with Meagan in charge, she can’t change everything—

A throat clears and I realise that I was lost to my thoughts and must have spaced out.

Meagan and Xander have been talking this whole time.

About what? God, I don’t even want to think about how my face looks right now.

Especially in his presence.

Why do I always embarrass myself like this when he is around? I’ve been staring blankly for a good couple of minutes.

They seem to have come to some agreement.

Xander looks delighted – good, not fired or blacklisted then. Meagan is smiling broadly, nodding at me.

My eyes dart around the room and I see two pairs of eyes looking at me expectantly.

I let out a startled chuckle.

‘Yes, so…’

I start, hoping one of them takes the lead and carries on the conversation.

‘This could be such an incredible opportunity – for both of you,’

Meagan says with such joy in her face that I can’t help but return an enthusiastic smile.

‘So, what do you think of the idea?’

‘Oh, right… The idea, which is so great by the way… I am one hundred per cent on board.’

‘Yeah? I’m glad that you think this idea is so great,’

Xander says, amused, tilting his head. I look into his eyes but there’s an emotion I can’t pinpoint. Almost smug? It’s like he can see straight through my act. He folds over his Moleskine notebook and puts it in his back pocket, the pen behind his ear. Who does he think he is? Jack Kerouac?

‘Yep, isn’t that what I just said? I absolutely love it.’

I know that I am probably doing too much, but I can just add it to the list of things I will lose sleep over tonight.

‘Well, that’s great news,’

Meagan responds.

‘I’m glad you think so because I’m not going to lie, I was a little worried. I know how you and Xander butt heads, but that’s exactly why I need both of you on this.’

So we’re working together on something. That’s just brilliant. What is it? The cogs of my mind are turning at an alarming speed. What have I just agreed to? Have I just sold my soul to the devil?

I look to my right and I see Xander staring at me. I feel like he’s rifling through my thoughts and I blush instinctively. He stands relaxed, hands in his pockets with his artfully scruffy band T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his eyebrow quirked. I hate how he can at the same time look so casual but also like he’s just stepped out of a GQ magazine shoot. Between strands of his tousled black hair, I can see a glint in his eye. I’m really glad he is finding this funny, because amusement is the last thing I’m feeling right now.

‘So, I’ll leave you two to work things out between yourselves, but I trust you completely. Remember, I want to see what you’ve put together in six weeks’ time.’

Six weeks? A month and a half to do what? I’m glad Meagan thinks that we can work together without ripping each other’s heads off.

It would help if I knew what she was talking about.

But right now, the only thing I can do is smile and nod enthusiastically.

It is safe to say that this is not what I thought would happen when I walked into the office today.

Somehow, instead of getting my dream promotion as lead screenwriter, I’m being forced to work with my arch-nemesis.

And I don’t even know what on.

It could be anything. A tricky scene, maybe? Or are we to start an initiative to recycle coffee grounds?

‘Well, this has been enlightening,’

Xander says to wrap up the meeting.

‘Thanks so much, Meagan.’

My nose flares at his tone. Whatever I’ve been roped into, why does it have to be with him?

Meagan claps her hands together with excitement.

No matter what it is, I will just grin and bear it.

I aspire to be like her one day and I’m sure that she’s had to do her own fair share of questionable tasks. Maybe one of those included working with someone who annoys the living daylights out of her.

Xander has already stood up ready to leave and I rise from my seat to exit too.

Surprisingly, he rushes ahead to open the door for me, and I can’t help but be suspicious of his sudden show of chivalry.

‘Thanks,’

I say, begrudgingly.

‘No problem, Yazza.’

There he goes with that nickname.

Xander chuckles and I feel myself getting redder by the second.

The minute we are out of earshot, I turn round and, as casually as I can, say.

‘Hey, so what do you think about what Meagan said?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’

he says.

‘Or maybe I should say, you have no idea what Meagan was talking about?’

‘What? I—’

I can only defend myself in splutters.

‘I just wanted to know what you thought!’

‘Oh, Yara, I could tell from your face that you weren’t listening to that entire meeting. What exactly were you thinking about, huh? Anything exciting?’

‘I was totally listening and no, I wasn’t thinking about anything exciting. Just thinking about this project,’

I huff out.

‘Right,’

he replies. He doesn’t correct me, so at least I know it is a project that we’re to work on, as vague as that may be.

‘It’s okay, I know you’re just too embarrassed to say you were thinking about me.’

‘I’m sorry, could your ego get any bigger? Thinking about you? Why on earth would I ever think about you?’

Maybe it’s the reflection of the light but I swear I see a flicker of disappointment.

There’s something expectant in his gaze, but he shakes it off and chuckles.

‘Because we’re working together on this… obviously?’

My face is now flaming red.

I need to find out what exactly I agreed to in that meeting and I can’t straight up ask him.

Then I’ll have to admit he was right, and I wasn’t listening and maybe, just maybe, I may have been thinking about him. But only thinking about his writing and whether we were both being blacklisted.

I’ll find out one way or another. I spin on my heel and head towards my desk so I can begin to plan.

‘I can’t wait to work on this project with you, Xander, I’m sure it’s going to be an absolute delight,’

I throw over my shoulder.

‘Looking forward to it, Yazza,’

he yells back at me. As he walks away, I see that damn notebook peeking out of his jeans pocket.