I stare at him, my heart pounding erratically in my chest. That’s a yes. A fine is a yes. He’s saying yes, even if he’s saying it in the cruelest way possible.

Ma turns to look at Baba incredulously. “How can you accept this? You’re spoiling her! There’s no reason for her to—”

“Look at her,” Baba says, his eyes locked on mine. As always, there is disappointment written across his face, but at this point, I’m over it. If I win in the end, he can be ashamed of me all he wants. “She will make our lives hell if we force her to stay. This is not a fight worth enduring. I no longer have the energy. Do you, Yara?”

My mom looks less than pleased with that explanation, her eyes darting between my dad and me. “She is using our love for her against us, Fahim,” Ma says darkly. “She knows we would do anything for her to stay.”

I resist the urge to grind my teeth. To call this love, as if it’s not their overwhelming need to keep me under their thumb and put on a performance for others, to make me into some twisted version of myself that carries out their every whim and desire, even at the cost my own hopes and dreams...

But I know the truth. That’s all that matters. “If you want me in New York City, this is the only way I will stay,” I say, refusing to let my voice waver. “In a dorm, or not at all.”

I’m tired of giving them power over my future. At the end of the day, it’s mine. It’s always been mine.

Nothing they say can hurt me anymore.

“Fine,” Baba says again, before looking at my mom pointedly.

She clenches her jaw, refusing to even look at me. “Fine.”

The tension seeps out of me all at once.

I got what I wanted. I can stay here in New York City, without having to live here with them. I can go to the same university as Rosie, I can see Anam on a weekly basis, I can follow my dreams—and I can do all of it in the city that loved me, even when I didn’t love it.

They don’t get to control me anymore. They never will again.

“Fine,” I say, and for the first time in years, I smile at them.

53

The day before we submit our short film, I get an email from USC, alerting me about my application status.

I stare at it for too long, wondering what to do with it. I’ve already made my decision, but a small part of me hesitates at the reminder of my past dreams.

I painstakingly click into the email.

Dear Samina,