In Hollywood, a woman, especially a young woman, was usually relegated to one type of role—supporting. No matter the position, if a woman wanted to reach the top, she had to put in several times the effort of a man. And even then, after all that work, there was no guarantee of fair treatment or reward.
There were countless examples proving this reality.
Take Laila, for instance—she had already reached the pinnacle of the industry, yet even she had faced gender-based discrimination.
If she hadn't made The Avengers a worldwide phenomenon—leveraging every trick in the book to promote it and break the all-time box office record—then the only path left for her might have been to quietly exit the stage.
Had that happened, the media would have painted her as a failure, just because she was a female director. They wouldn't have even needed a reason—being a woman would've been enough.
But because she succeeded, all the criticism disappeared, replaced by flowers and applause.
No one asked what would've happened had she failed.
No one cared what kind of injustice she might have endured.
People only saw her success. They only praised her achievements.
Most had already forgotten the terrible situation she'd faced just over a year ago.
Laila never voiced any complaints about this. She knew she had won. And history is written by the victors.
Once you succeed, who cares what would have happened if you'd failed?
But she hadn't forgotten. That painful memory remained carved into her heart, a vivid reminder to herself—to always be prepared, to handle similar situations with even greater precision in the future.
When Roy came to pick Laila up from work, he found her watching an interview Leslie Cheung had done on a local Eastern TV station.
Her intense focus made Roy feel a pang of jealousy again.
Sure, he knew she loved him the most—but every time she looked at that Eastern actor, there was something different in her eyes.
A hint of admiration that wasn't there when she looked at anyone else.
He wasn't worried about them falling in love.
But having your wife constantly watching another man like that? Anyone would feel a little uncomfortable.
Especially when he'd worked with that same man before and knew just how good an actor he was.
"What's so great about this?" Roy muttered as he casually sat down beside her, feigning indifference.
Laila smiled and pointed to the screen.
"This interview is really interesting. He said a lot of things worth thinking about. I really hope more people get to watch it—and truly understand what he's trying to say."
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
He'd been interviewed countless times himself—how come she never watched his interviews like this?
"I say some pretty insightful things too, you know."
Laila looked at him and laughed. "Of course you do. You're very cool. You're the coolest."
The obvious tone of humoring a child made Roy cup her face and kiss her deeply—clearly annoyed.
"You've never watched my interviews like this!"
Laila rolled her eyes. "We've been on plenty of talk shows together. I don't exactly need to go back and rewatch them."
"That's not the same! There are still plenty you weren't in!"
Roy, like a kid denied candy, kept pushing the issue.
Looking at her husband—whose mental age seemed to have dropped a few years since marriage—Laila didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
"Look at you. Anyone who knows you would say you're Eli's dad. Anyone who doesn't might think you're his little brother."
She meant to tease him, but Roy suddenly threw himself into her arms, acting like a toddler.
"Baby is scared! Baby needs kisses and hugs and to be lifted high!"
Laila's mouth twitched as she held back laughter and pushed his face away.
"Stop it. Let me finish watching this. Then we can go home."
Roy, having lost the attention battle, sat sulking beside her.
"What's so great about him anyway? I promise I can say things a hundred times more moving—if that's what you want!"
"This isn't about who sounds better," Laila said seriously.
"I genuinely agree with what he said. The East doesn't lack good actors or good directors. What they lack is opportunity."
Roy met her seriousness with a furrowed brow.
"Laila, I know you've always wanted to support Eastern cinema. I can understand your point about directors needing more chances. But do you really think actors from the East are just lacking opportunity?"
"You don't?" Laila shot back.
"You've seen it yourself. The Eastern actors in my films have all received great reviews. Clearly, they just needed a platform. Once given the chance to step into Hollywood, they were recognized by audiences!
When actors treat their craft with sincerity, viewers can feel that sincerity—and they respond in kind!"
Roy shook his head.
"I think you're ignoring one important factor: recognizability."
"Why can Western actors cross national borders and get blockbuster results in the East? Is it just the strength of the script?
By your logic, if Eastern directors and writers are just as good—which many are—then shouldn't their box office numbers be just as good in the West?"
Laila frowned. "So what's your point?"
"My point is, Western faces are easier for Eastern audiences to accept—and that matters.
In many Eastern cultures, pale skin and deep facial features are considered beautiful—features that Western actors tend to have.
But for Westerners, it's not the same. A lot of them have face-blindness when it comes to Eastern actors. To them, all Eastern people look the same."
Laila, of course, already knew that. But she still believed her stance was correct.
"That's not entirely true. You've seen my movies…"
Roy raised his hand to cut her off.
"Yes, but those are your movies. Darling, do you think you're just a regular director?
How many directors out there can do what you've done?
If any other director could make a film grossing over a billion dollars, then yes, maybe the Eastern actors in their films would get remembered, too.
But the truth is, it's not because they're Eastern that audiences remember them—it's because you gave them the role.
You brought them to the screen.
And if you'd cast someone else—any actor from any country—the effect probably would've been the same."
Laila was stunned into silence.
She realized—she couldn't refute him.
What he said made complete sense.
Had she really never noticed this subtle difference before?
"That can't be true," she said quietly.
"Eastern actors are amazing. They deserve more opportunities."