Page 1 of The Ending is the Best Part
Chapter One
This is it.Things are finally looking up for me.Sure, I’ve had a few knockbacks, like my ex-boyfriend Theo cheating on me and getting into a relationship with the girl he did it with, but I’m basically over that.Even if it has been two – okay, three years since it happened.Oh, and then there was that whole thing of almost setting my flat on fire.Can I just clarify thealmostin that scenario?I may or may not have forgotten to turn the stove off.But the thing is ancient, and like everything else in the flat my landlord refuses to replace it.I mean there wasn’t even a full-blown fire, just a few flames and a burnt wooden spoon, so does it even count?
My dating life might be in shambles and my housing situation is less than ideal, but professionally I am truly living my best life at twenty-five years old.Not to blow my own horn, but I am working my dream job as a junior staff writer on one of the most successful television shows of all time,Claim to Power. You know the one.It’s got dragons, fairies, kings and queens in it.And an epic storyline full of high-stakes battles and political intrigue, not to mention the slow-burn enemies-to-lovers plot that’s been building up over the last few seasons.You can thank me for that particular detail.
And today, my boss has called me in for a one-on-one meeting.She only does that to fire people or promote them.I know I haven’t done anything that would cause me to get fired and I’m not going to lie, work has been going pretty well recently.The senior writers keep asking for my input on how to resolve this or that detail on the show.They say I’m good on character.I understand relationships – I told my mum all that time reading Austen and the Brontës wasn’t a waste.If only that knowledge could extend to my personal life.
Anyway, all of us know that the season finale needs to be written, and someone needs to take the lead.That someone could be, might be, me.
I love my job.I’m writing on a show that’s watched by millions and it’s a really supportive workplace.All those stories you hear about ultra-competitive writers’ rooms?Well, thankfully that hasn’t been my experience.I like all my co-workers.Well, all except for one.But I have good reason, because he is genuinely one of the most insufferable people I have ever met.
Xander.The other junior writer and my number one enemy at work.You might think having a ‘number one enemy’ is a little dramatic, but no.Not for him.He’s your classic pretentious posh boy.A film bro who’ll only talk about ‘the greats’: Scorsese, Nolan and Tarantino.Don’t get me wrong, I like their movies as much as the next person with a MUBI subscription, but we can all have a laugh about Tarantino’s foot thing and agree that time Scorsese directed a musical was a Big Mistake.Xander looks down on everything I like: Emily Henry, Bridget Jones and Richard Curtis.He said he hadn’t even heard of Nora Ephron – and somehow the man claims to love film.It’s 2025 and this guy has no social media presence except for Letterboxd, not that I stalked him or anything…
I’ll admit he’s a great writer.It’s undeniable.Unfortunately.He can imbue even the quietest moment with a drama that pretty much no one else can.He’s brilliant in the storyboarding sessions too.When it comes to battle scenes and coronations, deaths and complex political manoeuvres, he’s your guy.But he says he doesn’t get the point of romance.It’s all just fluff, according to him, a distraction from the ‘proper’ narrative, which probably explains why I always get called in to help him with his scenes that haveanycharacter development.
But soon, none of that is going to matter.Because I have a meeting with my manager Meagan McLean.You may have heard of her – multiple BAFTA winner and showrunner ofClaim to Powerand a hundred other huge TV shows.She’s kind of my hero.I love how she creates a team spirit among her writers.She’s obsessed with the idea that a healthy balance of competition and collaboration creates TV magic.And hey, it works.Look at the heights she’s climbed.Heights that I’m hoping to follow her to.
If she gives me the lead screenwriter credit, I’ll be able to get any writing gig I want.Maybe someone will finally commission me to write the throwback nineties rom-com I’ve always dreamed of.Then, I’ll barely even remember Xander when I’m giving my Oscars speech.I wonder what I’ll wear?What if I trip on my dress like Jennifer Lawrence?That would be mortifying – and, unfortunately, just like me.
Stop.I’m getting ahead of myself.It’s fine, it’s going to be fine.Let’s ignore all that, because today is going.To.Be.A.Good.Day.
But just as I approach the double doors to Meagan’s office, I see that a tall, leather-jacket-clad figure behind me is headed in the same direction.A niggling feeling in my gut begins to form, but nope, I’m not even entertaining any negative thoughts.This is my big moment, and I won’t let anyone ruin it.Especially not him.He’s probably going to the bathroom, which is down the hallway.But as I walk closer, the footsteps don’t get quieter like I thought they might… they get closer.I smell his cologne before I see him.It’s his favourite one, the musky, heady scent he only wears for important meetings with senior writers and the producers.I remember he wore it at the Christmas party three years ago, when he pulled me aside and we, we… We had that really weird chat.
Suddenly Xander’s shoulder brushes past mine and I tilt my head to peer up at him.
‘Oh, hello, Yara, didn’t see you down there.’ Ugh, he’s so patronising.His voice is deep.I can’t quite explain it, but it’s almost velvety with a slight rasp.It always manages to send a tingling feeling down my back – it’s the irritation, I know.
‘Hi, Xandy,’ I throw back at him.Xandy– where’d I even get that from?As soon as the words escape my mouth, I immediately want to take them back.What a terrible response!I just know I’m going to be tossing and turning in bed tonight thinking of everything I could have said instead.Is it hard to see us mere mortals from up on your high horse, you egotistical prick?Oh, you still work here?Timothée Chalamet hasn’t returned your calls, I suppose.
His lip begins to curl up, almost but not fully a smile.Those are reserved for very rare occasions.
‘Did you miss me, Yazza Dazzler?’
‘Trust me, Xander, there will never be a moment in my life where I will ever miss you… and you know it’s Yara.’
When I first started here, my big sister Elif sent a huge bunch of flowers to my desk with a card that said, ‘Congratulations on following your dreams.It’s a long journey but I know you’ll make it, Yazza Dazzler’.I was mortified, but what made it worse was Xander saw the note and started calling me by that stupid family nickname.Despite years of my protesting, somehow it’s stuck.
‘Sorry I must have missed the memo… Yazza.’
I let out an exasperated sigh and carried on walking.I hear an amused chuckle echo behind me.Honestly, this man is so infuriating.It’s like he lives to get a rise out of me.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I realise he’s no longer following me.I guess it was just like I thought.Bathroom, after all.I reach the double doors to Meagan’s office, close my eyes and think to myself,This is it.You’ve worked here three years.You’ve risen from coffee and lunch runs to being a real voice in the writers’ room.You just need a chance to prove yourself, to get that top writing credit. I enter Meagan’s office.There are floor-to-ceiling windows offering an expansive view of the London cityscape.I can see right across from Battersea Power Station to the London Eye and the Shard.Perks of being the showrunner and an executive producer, I guess.
‘Ah, Yara, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.’ Meagan looks immaculate, as always.There’s not a hair out of place.From her brand-new Louboutins to the jumper tied round her shoulders, she’s the epitome of stylish yet casual.My eyes take in her beautifully styled blond hair.If her fresh blowout is anything to go by, she uses her hefty hard-earned pay cheque on almost daily trips to the salon.
‘No bother at all,’ I respond, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.
‘So, how was your weekend?’ she asks.Her pale green eyes are gentle and the softness in her gaze puts me at ease.It’s what I admire so much about Meagan.She’s kind and she really cares.In an industry full of cut-throat men out for themselves, she shows you can get to the top without losing sight of what really matters.
‘It was great, thank you!I spent Saturday at the park with my friends, trying to make the most out of the weather before it goes all doom and gloom again.What a gorgeous autumn we’re having!Thank goodness there were no incidents, although I did almost fall into the reservoir, wouldn’t that have been a total disaster?’ Meagan smiles but her eyes widen slightly.Ah, I’m doing what I always do when I’m nervous.Oversharing.Talking at a million miles an hour.
‘And yours?’ I manage to say before I let spill that I spent my Sunday forensically scrolling through Theo’s girlfriend’s Instagram.Meagan doesn’t need to know about Claire’s 7 a.m.Pilates class and iced blueberry matcha.Of course he’s with someone called Claire.She’s the very image of perfection with her sculpted abs and blemish-free complexion, and to top it all off she’s called Claire.It’s just so wonderfullylovely, isn’t it?Not that I care.Not in the slightest.Everyone checks in on their exes from time to time.Even if it has been three years.I just like to keep an eye on him, like a Nintendog.
‘Did you end up going to that new fancy restaurant with M…’ I click my fingers as Meagan’s new partner’s name dances on the top of my tongue.
‘Mike, wasn’t it, Meagan?’ a deep voice rumbles behind me.
Did I say I had a good feeling about today?Well, I am taking it back.
