Aurora read the question again.
Why does she keep trying?
The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence.
She could have deleted it.
For a few seconds, she considered doing exactly that.
Then she closed her laptop.
"Great."
Mia looked up.
"That tone means you just did something you're going to regret."
"I sent the profiles."
"I wasn't talking about the profiles."
Aurora gathered the papers scattered across the table.
"Then I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't."
Mia smiled and turned back to her computer.
Aurora refused to give her the satisfaction.
She had asked a question about the adaptation.
Nothing more.
A perfectly reasonable question.
The ending depended on a decision made by the male lead. If she was going to direct this story, she needed to understand why the female lead kept moving toward someone who, on the surface, seemed determined to keep his distance.
It was work.
Just work.
Her phone vibrated on the table.
Aurora picked it up.
Thomas.
Profiles received. I'm starting the first round of selections. I'll send you the first names tomorrow.
A second message appeared immediately after.
Be ready. There'll be a lot.
Aurora smiled.
At least that was a simple problem.
Actors.
Auditions.
Choices.
Something she could analyze without wondering why a sentence written five years ago still bothered her.
"Thomas is starting the selection."
Mia's head immediately came up.
"Finally."
"He said he'll send the first names tomorrow."
"How many?"
"A lot."
"Very specific."
"It's Thomas."
Mia nodded as though that explained everything.
The door opened.
Ethan walked in with a folder tucked under his arm.
"Marcus wants us in ten minutes."
Aurora looked at him.
"What for?"
"Scheduling."
"That word never brings anything good."
"That's why I've already had coffee."
Mia pointed at Aurora.
"Keep it away from her."
Aurora looked at her.
"Seriously?"
"I'm protecting the company."
Ethan frowned.
"Did I miss something?"
"No."
"Yes," Mia answered at the same time.
Aurora picked up her notebook.
"Meeting."
Mia laughed.
---
Leon was already seated when they entered the conference room.
Aurora noticed him before she even realized she had.
Dark shirt, sleeves rolled just below his elbows, laptop open in front of him.
No coffee.
Probably for the best.
Rachel sat to his right.
Marcus was arranging a few papers in front of the screen while Thomas joined remotely.
"Good," Marcus said. "Now that we have a first version of the profiles, we need to stop talking about casting in the abstract."
Thomas appeared on the monitor.
"Thank you. Finally, someone said it."
Marcus ignored the comment.
"The agencies will start sending their suggestions tomorrow. Thomas will make the first cut. Then we'll start with self-tapes."
Aurora opened her notebook.
"How many actors do we want to bring in for in-person auditions?"
"For the leads? Not many," Thomas replied. "If we get to ten each, we've already done something wrong."
"Six," Aurora said.
Thomas looked at her through the screen.
"Six?"
"If the profiles are precise enough, yes."
Marcus placed both hands on the table.
"Ambitious."
"Ten people who don't work aren't more useful than six just because there are ten of them."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Thomas smiled.
"I like it."
Aurora wrote something down.
"Six."
"Wait," Rachel cut in. "For him, maybe. I'd give ourselves a little more room with her."
Aurora looked up.
"Why?"
"The male lead is more clearly defined on the page."
Aurora leaned back in her chair.
"I disagree."
Rachel studied her.
"The female lead reacts a lot."
"In the first part."
"For a good portion of the story."
Aurora closed her fingers around her pen.
"That's exactly what we're correcting in the adaptation."
Rachel didn't seem bothered.
"Correcting or changing?"
The question lingered over the table.
Aurora heard Ethan shift slightly in his chair.
Marcus didn't intervene.
Neither did Leon.
That was what Aurora wanted.
If this was going to become her direction, she didn't need someone else answering for her.
"Making visible what can afford to remain internal on the page."
Rachel tilted her head slightly.
Aurora continued.
"If she waits, I want to know what she's doing while she waits. If she goes back to him, I want the audience to understand what it costs her. I don't want a female lead who exists only because the male lead needs someone to lose."
This time, the silence lasted longer.
Marcus looked at Leon.
Aurora noticed.
So did Rachel.
Leon kept his eyes on Aurora.
"Six," he said.
Thomas slapped a hand against his desk on the other side of the screen.
"Perfect. Six and six."
Rachel lowered her gaze to her notes.
"Works for me."
The discussion moved on.
Dates.
Availability.
Callbacks.
Chemistry reads.
Aurora filled two pages.
By the time Marcus finally closed his folder, nearly fifty minutes had passed.
"Aurora."
She looked up.
"You'll be there for the final selection from beginning to end."
"Of course."
"That wasn't a question."
Aurora gave him a faint smile.
"Then we agree."
Marcus gestured toward Leon.
"So will he."
Her smile faded.
"Fine."
Leon didn't react.
Marcus looked at both of them.
"I don't want to cast the two leads separately. We could find the perfect actor and the perfect actress only to discover there's nothing between them on screen."
"Chemistry read," Thomas said.
"Exactly."
Aurora nodded.
It made sense.
A little too much sense.
"When?"
"If everything goes well, the end of next week."
Aurora wrote down the date.
"I'll be there."
Leon closed his laptop.
"So will I."
Marcus looked at them.
"Good. Then we're done."
Chairs began to move.
Aurora gathered her notebook.
"Aurora."
She stopped.
Leon was still seated.
Everyone else was already heading out.
Rachel turned toward him.
"Want me to wait?"
"No."
One word.
Normal.
Professional.
And yet Aurora hated that she'd registered it at all.
Rachel left.
Ethan passed beside her.
"You coming?"
Aurora looked at Leon.
"In a minute."
Ethan nodded and closed the door behind him.
They were alone.
Leon turned his laptop toward her.
The document she'd sent that morning was open on the screen.
Aurora immediately recognized her own note.
Why does she keep trying?
"It was a question," she said.
"I know."
"So?"
Leon looked up.
"What kind of answer do you want?"
"The real one."
"It's a story."
"Written by you."
"Yes."
"So I assume you know why your characters do what they do."
Leon remained silent.
Aurora realized she'd tensed.
She forced herself to relax her shoulders.
"If I'm going to direct this, Leon, I can't tell an actress, 'She keeps trying because that's what happens in the book.'"
"That's not what happens."
"Then why?"
Leon lowered his gaze to the screen.
"Because she sees something."
Aurora waited.
"What?"
"Something other people don't."
The answer came calmly.
Aurora stopped moving her pen.
Leon continued.
"Everyone looks at what he does. She starts looking at what he doesn't do."
Aurora said nothing.
"When he walks away. When he stays. The things he could ignore but notices anyway. The things he doesn't say."
Something slowly tightened beneath Aurora's ribs.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to bother her.
"And that's supposed to be enough for her?"
"No."
The answer was immediate.
Aurora looked at him.
Leon hadn't hesitated.
"Then why does she stay?"
"She doesn't."
Aurora frowned.
"In the end, she leaves."
"After spending the whole story trying."
"Those are two different things."
"Not for her."
"Yes."
Aurora set her pen down on the table.
"For her, they are."
Leon remained still.
Aurora gestured toward the screen.
"If she keeps going back, there has to be a moment when she decides it's still worth doing. Every time. Otherwise, it isn't a choice. She's just a female lead the story keeps dragging along behind him."
Leon watched her for a long moment.
He didn't seem annoyed.
He seemed to be thinking about it.
That was almost worse.
"Then put it in."
Aurora blinked slowly.
"What?"
"That moment."
"It isn't in the book."
"We're making an adaptation."
Aurora stared at him.
Only a few days earlier, they'd argued over much less.
"Are you telling me to add a scene?"
"I'm telling you to find a way to show a decision that happens inside her head in the book."
Aurora folded her arms.
"Rachel was right."
"About what?"
"You accept changes only when someone manages to convince you."
"Is that a problem?"
Aurora considered it.
"It's irritating."
"That's not the same thing."
For a moment, she almost smiled.
Almost.
"And the male lead?"
Leon waited.
"When does he decide?"
"Decide what?"
"That she's worth it."
Something changed.
Not on his face.
Not enough for Aurora to point to.
But the silence that followed the question was different from the others.
Leon slowly lowered the screen of his laptop.
"Much earlier."
Aurora looked at him.
"Then why doesn't he tell her?"
The same question.
Again.
Leon stood.
"That doesn't change."
"I didn't ask whether it changes."
He picked up his computer.
Aurora remained seated.
"I asked why."
Leon looked at her.
For a moment, the room suddenly seemed too small.
Then he said,
"Because wanting someone and knowing how to stay with them aren't the same thing."
Aurora didn't move.
Leon slipped the laptop into its case.
"We'll look at the first profiles tomorrow."
He walked past her chair.
The door opened.
"Leon."
He stopped.
Aurora had a question.
Maybe more than one.
None she was sure she wanted to ask.
"Nothing."
Leon waited another second.
Then he left.
Aurora remained alone.
On the screen in front of her, the question she'd written that morning was still there.
Why does she keep trying?
Aurora read it once more.
Then she typed underneath:
Because she sees something other people don't.
She stopped.
Deleted the sentence.
And closed the document.
---