In Love With My Rival

Nothing is more pathetic than an author dismissing romance as a superficial concept. Especially one that owes their entire career to the genre. Right now, it's Farah Sohail, speaking on a panel on the Reality of Romance. She’s been introduced as a ‘fiery critic’, who's not afraid to voice bold opinions. I agree. Bold and ridiculous. They also called her a ‘budding author', which is probably a polite way to say no one reads her. She is on a literary panel at an event I'm attending and has adamantly declared romance as nothing but a pair of rose-tinted glasses that color reality. She is trying very hard to sound smart and probably thinks she's succeeding because everyone else on the panel isn't saying much. It's probably because they're scared she'll bite their heads off if they dare contradict her. Her haughty smile alone is enough to infuriate opponents into stumbling over their arguments. Aliyah introduces us after the panel. I asked her to, actually. It's been a while since I've been here in Karachi and while the cultural scene is interesting, it's not enough to keep you hooked. Farah’s aggressiveness sticks like a sore thumb. It's obvious she won't spare me if I try to provoke her, and that's intriguing. She gives me a polite smile when Aliyah takes me to her, so naturally, I assume she doesn't know me. I smile back. ‘You sounded very smart on the panel,’ I tell her sweetly. Her eyes narrow for a moment, but I see the change. She straightens up and considers me, twirling her glass. It's sparkling water. ‘Thank you. I'm glad you paid attention.’ She is just as polite. I bite back my smile. ‘I had to. No one else was saying much. You took their rose-tinted glasses off.’ This time, she arches an eyebrow as if preparing to shoot an arrow. I can hear a camera click nearby and hope I'm not the subject. The last thing I want is to be found here, where I'm supposed to be “under the radar”. ‘Clearly, you’re still wearing yours. Or are they stuck?’ She mocks. ‘I don’t need them to know that love is a reality for human beings.’ ‘Sure. It definitely is for your psychopath character in the recent thriller movie you starred in. You know, the one who kills people for “love”. Would you call his worldview realistic?’ ‘Touche. So you’ve watched it?’ I try to switch lanes, but she is too sharp to let me. ‘Of course. I have to ground my thesis with research. Most of mine is based on art but I sometimes allow myself to step outside of that zone.’ ‘You think that’s a clever way of saying my work is not art?’ ‘Some things just go without saying, Mr Lee.’ ‘Like the fact that you pick the most outrageous takes to make ears perk up?’ I decide to take my gloves off too. She doesn’t flinch. ‘Oh, believe me, I can pick the most boring takes ever and most people will still take notice,’ she says sweetly. ‘These venues are crowded by men and they pay attention with their eyes. I just happen to have substance too.’ I do agree, but I’m obviously not going to admit it. So, I scoff. It’s getting dark and the laughter on the floor is getting louder along with the sound of clinking glass. ‘Are you sure you’re not wearing glasses? You're too confident to be realistic,’ I lean forward, looking her in the eyes. She doesn’t step back. ‘Really? Maybe you just haven't met confident people,’ she says with a languid smile and turns around. ‘It was a pleasure, Mr Lee.’ It was a pleasure, indeed. ‘Until next time. We have a lot to talk about,’ I call out, only for her to roll her eyes before walking away.