28. I'm An Intern

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The constant buzz of voices, murmurs, rushed footsteps and ringing phones was already getting on her damned nerves. They have a grand total of two weeks to go before shooting is to start in Paris. As excited and nervous she was for this project to start, she had reached a level where she just wished it was all over already. She knew there were a number of people who weren't exactly happy that she was to host the entire segment, but to go as far as sabotage, that was just fucking low.

Her budget has been cut not just once, but three fucking times. That's right the budget for the entire crew has been slashed to the point where there was no money left for food. Between ticket prices, hotel rooms and vehicle rental there was nothing left anymore. Farrah was dipping into her own savings to get things sorted when George and Rachel had both stepped up and took a stand for her. Rachel was going to direct the entire segment with her and Farrah was more than grateful to have a familiar face with her. The rest of the crew came on Rachel's recommendation and Farrah trusted her implicitly.

Rachel was already nominated for a few docudramas, the most notable was the BAFTA nomination last year and Farrah knew that she was trying her hardest to not only get nominated again but to possibly win it this time around. Did she feel like she was being used by Rachel? Possibly. Was she using Rachel for her expertise and experience? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Farrah's phone vibrated next to her head and she groaned. They were still sorting out the unseal-able documents dilemma. Apparently, there were some discrepancies when it comes to the first responder's recounting of his experience. At first Farrah chalked it up to being confusion as it has been 20 years since it happened. But when they spoke to the member of the staff who found the princess, she had let slip that she was bound by a non-disclosure, a separate and more specific contract, that she was not allowed to talk about that day. Farrah had thought that maybe the more tenacious student intern, Violet; with the purple highlights and the 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' attitude could handle it.

Well, Farrah thought wrong. The palace has been giving Violet the run around and after two weeks, there was still no word on it. Why can't the staff member talk? Was this one of those documents that Richard had already forewarned her about? Someone just needed to give her the fucking confirmation so that she can just leave it alone and move on to more pressing matters; like getting some amount of sleep.

Richard. Richard. Richard. His name has become a constant echo in her mind. She didn't know when it started but as she sits on the prayer mat after performing her namaz, his name automatically slips into her dialogue with Allah. She prays for him; for his happiness, for his health, for his faith...she prays that he is blessed with everything that he needs, even if it wasn't her. Sighing, Farrah's phone vibrates again next to her head and she groans loudly.

Looking at her phone, she saw: fourteen new email notifications, six missed calls, three missed video calls, 128 text messages. What the fuck, how did all this happen in 10 minutes?, she thought somewhat frantic. Farrah felt like flinging her phone to the wall but instead she took a deep calming breath and unlocked her phone. Going through her messages, Farrah skipped the texts from work to answer personal ones first. Saif had texted her. She was right, when she said that he was one of the good ones. Even though he didn't have to, he still sent her flowers for Valentine's Day.

Those were the last of the flowers that he sent her along with a note that said if she ever needed a friend, she knew where to find him. She was glad that they had managed to get over whatever it was to be friends. He was cocky, funny and ridiculous. But he was also subtly asking her about things that were more Islamic in nature. Given her current dilemma, she could only point him towards the right direction rather than give him the answers herself.

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