The Fine Print

Rowan

I enter the last Creator meeting before the holiday break. While the employees might take time off, I’ll be working day and night to finish up my presentation for the board. 

Je

A pressure pushes against my chest, making my breaths ragged. Je

The first Creator presents on some decent idea that will never make it out of today’s meeting. I’ve already vetoed it in my head. 

The door creaks open behind me. I turn to find Zahra entering silently, minus her jangling backpack. It throws me back to our first meeting. A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips before they fall back into a flat line. 

Her eyes scan the room before dropping to the only empty chair, located right next to me. If she’s a

While presenters go up, Zahra remains stiff while ignoring my presence. It irritates me more than I care to admit. 

By the time it’s Zahra’s turn to present, I’m fidgeting in my seat and struggling to think about anything but her. 

She stands and clears her throat. 

I go rigid in my seat, checking her over for any signs of sickness. She takes a sip of her water before going up to the podium. 

“Today, I’m presenting something a little different. It’s not exactly about a ride, so I understand if it isn’t accepted as an option for Mr. Kane’s project.” She doesn’t even bother looking in my direction while she speaks about me, which only adds to the tightening pressure in my chest.

“I’m interested in making Dreamland more inclusive for our guests. As a salon worker, I met lots of children who experienced life’s hardest challenges. I began to take notice and write down their concerns. After years of working, I came to one conclusion. As a sister of someone with challenges herself, I understood the guests’ chief complaints—even though I think my sister would punch my arm if she heard me use that kind of C-word.” 

Some Creators laugh. I’m enthralled by her and the confidence she displays. It’s a complete shift from the woman who didn’t feel like she was worthy of being a Creator. 

“Dreamland isn’t only made for the more privileged who can afford quick skip passes, hundred-dollar entrance tickets, and overpriced food and drinks. It’s made for the able-bodied. For those kids who were born with a leg up—no pun intended. So my idea is to change the very foundation of the park and shift the way we view our guests.” 

All I can do is stare in silence as she goes through various slides covering different ideas. From wheelchair costumes to sensory hours for children with autism, Zahra meets the demands of children and adults alike who are often overlooked at Dreamland. She delivers all the content with the biggest smile on her face. The more she talks, the stronger the longing grows in my chest. 

I want to steal her away from everyone and tell her how proud I am of her. And to confess how sorry I am about everything I did and said. 

Because I care for her. 

Because I want to be with her regardless of any obstacles. 

And because I want to be a man my mother would be proud of, and I want to do it by Zahra’s side. 

I sit taller in my chair, wanting to gain her attention. To have her turn that smile on me so she can see how proud I am of her idea. But she doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even bother turning in my general direction at all. It’s like I don’t exist. I ask questions to try to get her to look at me, but she answers smoothly, staring straight ahead at everyone. 

If anyone notices anything amiss, they don’t show it. 

With each ignored opportunity, the feeling in my chest intensifies. The burn only increases as Je

“Amazing job, Zahra. You’re going to do such big things one day. I just know it. It’s a shame we won’t have you here after the holiday break.” 

I blink a couple of times. “Repeat that.” 

Je

I ignore her and look at Zahra. For the first time, her eyes find mine, but they’re devoid of all emotions. 

I detest it with every fiber of my being. “You’re quitting?” 

“I gave Je

I do the math. If she submitted it a few days ago, and next week is a holiday break, then she’s not coming back. The realization sits like a rock in my stomach.

She stares at me with a blank expression. 

“Today is your last day?” I snap. 

Je

She didn’t quit after coming back from her sick leave, so what changed? I stay silent, stewing in the potential reasons for Zahra submitting her two weeks’ notice. Je

Each employee goes up to her, switching between hugs and high fives as they each say their goodbyes.

Fuck. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Why would you expect her to stay after everything you did? What have you proved to her besides the fact that you’re a selfish fuck who chooses yourself every damn time? 

“Everyone is dismissed except for Ms. Gulian.” I step toward the podium, hoping to cage Zahra in. 

Zahra’s body stills. Our gazes clash together as I stand in her direct eyesight. 

The Creators move along like I’m not glaring a hole into Zahra’s face. They each wish me a Merry Christmas before exiting the room, buzzing with excitement to be let out early. 

I stand between the podium and the door, leaving her no option but to get through me. “You can’t quit.” 

“I can and I did.” 

My fists ball up my sides. “But we had a deal.” 

She shrugs. “Today was the last day of our presentations anyway. It’s out of our hands now.” 

“There are going to be other ideas that need Creators’ input.” 

She holds her chin up. “That’s no longer my business.” 

“Zahra—” 

She holds up her hand, stopping me. “Why did you hire me?” 

I don’t blink. “Because you’re good at what you do. Today is a perfect example of how talented you are. Imagine what else we could do if you—”

I can practically see her walls dropping one by one. Her entire demeanor changes, from her shoulders slumping to her eyes clouding. 

“Why couldn’t you leave me alone?” Her voice cracks. “Why did you have to manipulate my feelings for you?” 

I take a deep inhale of breath. “What?” 

She looks away, hiding the mistiness of her gaze from me. “Did you hire me as a Creator because you wanted me to become emotionally invested in the project before your grandfather’s vote?” 

Vote? No fucking way. 

“Vote?” 

Her tiny fists tighten. “I was chosen for Brady’s committee, but I’m sure you already knew that. Didn’t you?” 

Zahra is on the committee? This has to be some kind of sick cosmic joke. Out of all the people my grandfather could have picked, he chose her? 

All the pieces co