“I know this feels like a huge setback, but I promise you’ll have other roles. Everyone adores you in Starfield. Conan O’Brien loved you when you went on his show! Jimmy Fallon! We’re even in talks to host Saturday Night Live. Amon thinks you were a great Princess Amara, Jessica.”

Well, tell that to the comments piling up on my Instagram and my Twitter feed, I think bitterly.

I only signed that contract because I was told it would be a one-off. A nice popcorn flick to populate my repertoire, to show off my action as well as my acting chops. Diana wasn’t wrong, but neither of us thought they would hold the sequel script this long without telling me my fate.

We never expected Starfield to be much of anything. And now it’s my entire world. One that I can’t seem to escape from, no matter how hard I try.

I’m about to spill everything—about the social media comments, the threats—when there’s a beep on her phone. She says quickly, “Listen, I have to go, but please don’t let any of this worry you. Try to have some fun! It’s ExcelsiCon! Talk to you soon!”

The line goes dead with a click and I’m left listening to silence.

You didn’t get the part, the self-deprecating voice inside me whispers as I drop the phone onto the bed. You didn’t get it because you’re Amara, and you’ll be Amara for the rest of your life.

Ethan’s been leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, adjusting and readjusting his smartwatch. He’s washed his face and put on a plain white T-shirt, tucked into his slacks. He doesn’t need to say anything for me to know that he heard—and understood—the whole thing.

Tears brim in my eyes, but I bite the side of my cheek to hold myself together. Ethan is my best friend, but Jessica Stone only cries when it’s scripted. Yet the longer I sit there and the longer he messes with his stupid watch, the harder it is for me to stop my lips from quivering.

“I think we need coffee,” he says, even though it’s almost 6:30 p.m. He grabs his wallet from the coffee table in the living room—yes, our hotel suite has a living room—and heads out. “I’ll be back in a minute. Chai?”

I nod.

It’s only when he closes the door that I take out my phone, log onto my socials, and read the comments. All the bad ones, because those seem to be the only ones that get through. They stick to me like glue, clinging to my skin—

what a joke

she’s the worst amara!! So glad she died

I can tell her where she can put those pretty lips

fixed her chest small titties lol [censored photo]