• Kairavi Rakshan •

"Marry me."

"Marry me," He breathed again, getting down on both of his knees with his hands clasped together. "Every girl before you, all of them, they were just passing clouds. They never lasted, not like us. Baby, none of them could ever compare to you."

His hands trembled, as tears continued to drown his cheeks. "I love you. You're it for me."

I yawned, successfully suppressing a sneeze that cheekily followed.

The emotional girls sitting behind me were most definitely sending me throttled glowers, mentally prepared to pound me into the ground. They would have taken the chance if it wasn't for the movie almost reaching the climax.

I impatiently clicked and unclicked my pen, starting to scribble out stars on random parts of my notebook.

She pulled him close, tightly clutching his collar and just as he was about to lean in for a tear-stained kiss, she harshly shoved him back and slapped him right across the face.

A massive grin painted my face.

Finally. If this woman had any sense of self-respect left in her, she would get up and walk away from that shameful excuse of a man.

"I love you too, you idiot." She whispered, stroking the same cheek she just slapped him across.

The couple sitting next to me frantically started searching for more tissues, wiping away the cascade of tears pouring down their cheeks with badly hidden sniffles.

Breathe, Kaira.

They attacked each other with passion-stricken kisses, his hands roaming all around the contours of her face. They were in a park, surrounded by families and children, but apparently, none of that mattered in the face of love.

"It's time for us to go home," He picked up her Mothercare bag and slowly helped her up from the park bench.

The couple next to me still hadn't found more tissues.

"Ugh, they deserve this so much. More than anything else." The girl next to me happily sputtered in between her hiccups, while her boyfriend held her hand and nodded.

Kaira, breathe.

I whipped out a set of Kleenex tissues from my handbag and handed it over to her.

She let out a soft gasp. "Oh, thank you so much. I needed this."

"I could tell." I mumbled under my breath, turning my attention back to the screen.

The credits slowly started to roll, with a tentatively passionate melody floating with it as the director's name appeared first.

Joey Quinton.

Before entering the cinemas, the one thing (only thing) I was looking forward to was the fact that this was one of the few films with a female director heading it. The pride, the feminine strength, the inner beauty we all share when it comes to being a headstrong woman in a society where we are easily undermined, were a few of the themes I was hoping to see.

I guess not all females share the same thought process. Or a sense of intelligence. Or morality. Or at least an ability to feel shame when it came to directing such a film.

Perhaps it was too much to ask.

Then, the producer's name appeared.

The girl next to me started coughing vigorously, uncontrollable tears still pouring out while my tissues proudly covered her snot.

I scrunched my nose in the darkness of the room, as the lights of the movie hall started popping in with slow apprehension.

I stood up, waiting for the couple to get themselves together and move along the row.

The girl smiled at me, shaking her head with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I don't usually get this emotional, this film just somehow got into my skin." She started fanning her face, as if that was going to dry up her wet face.

I nodded back with a muted response.

We started moving towards the exit, when my pocket started vibrating with my phone.

"Ay, ay, ay. It's Brenna here."

I reduced the volume of the ringer and put my phone to my ear. "Why do you find it necessary to introduce yourself every time? I have you saved for god's sake." I muttered, following the
slow row of people out towards the exit.

"No time for small talk. We need to get the official review out for the film from our side by tonight. That's in the next two hours and we're already behind schedule—"

"Write up a template for me now, I'll rehash it and send it through before the deadline."

I heard papers ruffling, quick clatters plus clicks on Brenna's laptop keyboard, and the aggressive release of a pen lid, which was probably flying into the air by now.

"Ready."

The crowd started to filter out quicker, and I was closer to the exit doors. "The introduction of the review should outline the basic portrayal of love slash romance, and how the way it's shown in movies are constantly setting high standards, getting harder and harder by the year for trying couples to keep up with," The girl - whose nose that was now indefinitely hijacked by mucus blockage - giggled, giving me an empathetic nod.

I ignored her. "Throw in a few classic examples of famous romances we've seen so far; The Fault in Our Stars, Titanic, The Notebook, etcetera. Then follow it up with a fluid comparison with this movie."

Brenna's fingers were audibly rattling across her keyboard while she uttered a 'hmm' and 'uh huh' here and there.

"A comparison that talks about what?" She paused to question.

"Let's see," I adjusted my coat, stretching my neck and thought about the two hours of my life I was never going to get back. "Well, something along these lines. This movie has proved itself to be a path breaker compared to all those classics, in the sense that it makes us realise the magic of love becomes much stronger, when one only thinks with the weight of their dick." There we go.

"Huh?" Brenna's typing paused.

"What?" The girl from before softly exclaimed.

I gave her a tight smile. "I'll take care of the rest, Brenna. Email the template to me and you'll get the final edit in the next hour." I ended the call, depositing my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.

"Feeling better now?" I calmly asked her, as she clung to two tissues in one hand and her boyfriend's arm trapped in the other.

The cinemas were still shrouded in darkness, except for the light emitted by the rolling credits on the screen.

"Um... yeah," She scratched her head and binned the wet tissues as we exited the screen. "So, you didn't like the film or was that about some other movie?"

I chuckled, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I guess you'll know tomorrow. London Seams, the review comes out this evening, if you're interested."

She nodded, staggered understanding slowly sinking in. "Wait, but, you're not— you're not actually going to write what you said, right?"

I'll write what is right.

I pressed my lips, holding in the snicker at my own inside joke.

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing at the Kleenex packet in her hand, which immediately made her bring them towards me.

I shook my head.

"Keep it, you might still need it."

•••

"The dawn of a new era. The mere raw and realism radiating off every scene, every character is undeniably heart-wrenching to watch. Let me tell you, I'm a grown man, but I couldn't stop reaching for the tissues towards the end. This film is truly one of a kind."

There were so many things in life to be grateful for. Friends, family, having people around you to spread kindness, compassion and positivity in such a ruthlessly judgemental society.

But none of that compared to the free choice of being able to switch off your camera on Zoom.

It made my heart soar.

Everyone in the neighbouring boxes nodded with as much sincerity as they could muster at 7 pm on a Friday night.

He continued, even though his time to speak was over two minutes ago. "In today's society, where love simply sets itself up to be a slobbering mess, in which cheesy confessions and sleazy, dramatic dialogues take the spotlight, it was incredibly refreshing to see something so new. An individual who's unapologetically consumed by his love and isn't afraid to express it. The portrayal of such a multi-layered character set in a democratic world..."

Wow. Is he reading out the entirety of his review to everyone?

I flicked through this week's magazine from ScienceSymptoms, most of which covered 'The Enzyme of the Hour', apparently opening up a whole new ground related to processes that facilitate unknown drug transmission pathways.

It was an easy pattern. A new discovery came out each month, hardly even significant enough to be considered a discovery. It was deemed to be 'potentially ground-breaking science' but there was the whole process of the scientists involved; waiting for their funds to be approved and reports to be peer-reviewed before they could even begin to delve deeper.

After that? The dear science only made it harder, throwing every researcher into a wild goose chase, often quite literally sending us into madness.

Something I would choose any day over these Zoom meetings we had to attend every week with the numerous newspaper companies, critic clubs and 'entertainment' media.

I turned my attention back to the screen.

"... it almost takes me back to the representation of Macbeth's character—"

Huh? What the fuck does this have to do with Macbeth?

But it would have been extremely disrespectful to ask that out loud.

"What the fuck does this have to do with Macbeth?" Brenna's face suddenly appeared in the box next to mine, her legs swung sideways over her chair.

Multiple eyebrows shot up at her sudden interruption, and the passionately lamenting freak shrieked, slapping a hand over his chest.

"Do not scare me like that, Brenna." He exclaimed, while everyone else in the call acknowledged her with a small greeting.

"I apologise, I was just so moved by your monologue, I couldn't help but intervene." Brenna cleared her throat, pairing it with a sardonic smile.

"Uh-huh," Edmund easily caught onto her bullshit and rolled his eyes. "Would it kill you to wait until I finish next time?"

Brenna folded her arms, waving him off. "Just answer the question, Edmund."

He subtly huffed, weaving his fingers through his hair tensely. "Well, Macbeth was also a multi-layered character that struggled to see the thin line between his integrity and the constant rushes of ego his new royal power gave him. Similar to that, Jake in this film—"

"—fails to see the incredibly thin line between various vaginas and his pregnant girlfriend?" I completed for him, switching my camera and mike on.

He gasped, still not immune to magical boxes interrupting him by now. "He didn't know she was pregnant!"

Brenna pouted and dramatically wiped a fake tear off her face. "You're right! Not knowing that gives him a brilliant excuse to treat her like a cheap inflatable doll he ordered off eBay, and then have the audacity to slap her when they broke up."

"Ahem." Another box cleared its throat. "Kaira and Brenna, can we please hear everyone out before tag-teaming poor Edmund with your interruptions?" Janine, the content curator of Hollywood Hangover calmly suggested.

Hollywood Hangover - the same entertainment company Edmund worked in, infamously known for bending over backwards to save bad films that shouldn't have ever seen the light of the day.

Similar to what they were doing now.

I massaged the sides of my neck, fleetingly meeting Brenna's eyes through her box.

"Janine, we all have our reasons to justify what we do. We watch films, write reviews, sometimes true, sometimes not," I exhaled sharply. "But this film? We have emotional abuse, different ranges of thorough toxicity and blatant violence. I don't really care for what your base has written, but having Edmund natter about it is really pushing it too far."

Edmund sighed with visible frustration like my words mattered just as much as a wailing toddler. "There are so many shades of grey you're refusing to see in the film, Kaira. If you did, you would appreciate my 'nattering', as you put it."

Brenna snorted. "Shades of grey, huh? There's another film that you wrote such a passionate review about," Wearing a knowing smirk, she asked, "Remind me, did that one also have you reaching for the tissues?"

Edmund's cheeks coloured all shades of bright red, so much so that it might have even made the famous Anastasia Grey cower away in envy.

"Brenna, please speak with respect to your peers or we will have to send you out of the meeting and report to your supervisors." Janine strictly intervened, glaring at me for adding fuel to the fire.

I gently rubbed my arms, resting my elbows on the table. "Brenna was only comparing one review with another. If anything, it just says how we pay genuine attention to a competing's company's work — a neat demonstration of sportsmanship."

Janine controlled a sneer from breaking out. "Kaira."

"Janine." I deadpanned, thrumming my fingers against the table.

She huffed, and just as she was about to speak again, Edmund swooped in. "You guys really want to get under our skin, don't you?" He hurriedly glanced at the other boxes, all containing faces helplessly trapped under the electrical air of awkwardness. "Truth be told, we have an issue with London Seams' review, Kaira."

I tilted my head with a smile. "Let's hear it, Ed."

"We believe that you have inserted too much of yourself into your review, instead of bringing an unbiased spectator's perspective to the paper."

The meeting went quiet.

"Too much of myself? Can you define what that means?"

Edmund's shaky glance stayed fixed at me. "Toxic feminism and unnecessary nattering about 'subtle male chauvinism' that serves absolutely no purpose to an audience that simply want to be entertained."

Brenna burst out laughing, slapping her hand over her mouth.

I softly beamed at Edmund. "Is that review about me or is it about a good film that your company was given hot cash checks to bad-mouth?"

Janine's ears were practically blowing out steam as she gnarled, "Are you actually accusing us of such a disgraceful action—"

"Thirty minutes. Ten minutes for introductions, five minutes for your weekend discussion plans, and only seven minutes spent on conversing about the actual film, hardly shared equally between all the participants present. The rest of the time was taken up by your colleague to act unprofessionally, deciding this was the right time and place to express his own concerns with my critique."

I leaned forward, not letting either of them to get another word in. "So I apologise if I followed up your staff member's disgraceful comment with my honesty," I tightly placed my hand on the touchpad. "I wasn't accusing, Janine. I was just reminding you."

Are you sure you want to leave the meeting? The icon read.

Another thing in life to be grateful for.

The option to fuck it and leave.

Does anyone else want to smother Edmund with tissues?

Thank you for still being here for this story. It might be mushy, but I'll never stop saying it.

Any thoughts about this chapter?

Signing off,
OceanaCamerons 💭📽