Hello my angels! 😇 You guys don't even freaking know how excited I am for y'all to read this! I'm glad I updated this chapter early. You all deserve it for all the love I got for my last chapter!

It's everything you wanted to happen, and it's great. I hope you all love it. It's a bit sad that we only have so little left for this book 💔 but let's not be THAT sad. We still have 2 more chapters remaining, so it's fine.

This chapter is Rohan's POV, yay! I know how much you all love his Pov's.

So make sure you smash that VOTE and leave a COMMENT! ❤

Enjoy.

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Rohan's POV

It's my third day in India.

The time was meant to go fast but it's not.

My breath is slow, my heart's not racing, everything is just too... boring.

The other day I was in Italy and now I'm in India. Italy... fucking Italy...

Here's a thing about addiction: when you're out of it, you can't feel anything. My addiction crawled in, because I could no longer purge it out. I have no reason to behave, because she wasn’t here, and everything felt hopeless, and wrong, and final.

So. Fucking. Final.

I wanted to go. To escape. Fucking end this; you don't realise how much you'll miss a person before, but after when you get away from them, you do. It's a brutal truth.

India's the last one. It marks the end of my crazy tour. But not everything is right. Hell, nothing is right...with me.

Last night was pretty ruining. Broken.
My show was awful and the day before that, I was on a flight--and as soon as I landed in India, I saw it. All the shit exploding over the media.

None of it was true. That room wasn't mine, my friend owns an hotel, he was having a party, I just went to the balcony for a smoke. Alexis was there, and she fucking followed me. She was drunk and way over it, so then she kissed me, but I didn't.
Of course the camera stopped as soon as I pushed her away and walked off. Of course they didn't broadcast that.

But I wasn't pissed at that. I was pissed at the fact that Aisha was buying this. She wouldn't pick my calls, she wouldn't reply to my texts when I sent her dozens... when I say dozens, I mean dozens!

You fucking know what? I'm not pissed. I'm MAD!

How could she?

Last night after my gig, I went to the bar by the street, girls lined up, with packets of drugs stacked in their bras. I didn't touch them, I did get one or two packets. And a bottle of whiskey, which I snuck into my hotel room and drank all night. Furious. Mad. Exhausted.

I’d had my chances all along. I’d simply chosen not to use them for, I don’t know, whatever reason. Actually, the reason was crystal clear to me now. Her. Aisha. She kept me high on something much stronger than alcohol.

I had my gaps between lines and bottles of alcohol, so I tried to convince myself I was still relatively sober, and when I was relatively sober, I called her. All the time. Every minute since I landed in India last night. She just never picked up.

But then because she wouldn't pick up, I started to send her messages. Stupid messages. Creepy messages. Messages that if somebody found out, could have landed me in a lot of trouble.

I was reflecting on the messages right now. Debating with my mind, whether if the messages were stupid or full of honesty...

💫💫💫

To Aisha:
9.40pm

I need you.

When I stepped out of the Airport a day ago, the first thing I saw was a man, on the floor, he had his own decorated booth, loads of mysterious cards infront of him. He was predicting the future. He told me we all were gonna die and that I should count on my blessings.
I told him I can't, because it wasn't working. My blessings weren't working. Just like that, I told him I could only count one thing, and it was you.
 

To Aisha:
9.48pm

Are you mad at me? Actually, don’t answer that. We’ll talk about it when I see you again. I shouldn’t be contacting you. Aman said to not say or contact anyone for a couple of days, after everything that's going on in the press, he wants me to be silent. But I’m not going to stop at that. He's gonna kill me if he finds out I'm messaging someone, but you and I, we don't care. We're stronger than this. Bigger than this. You know that right?

To Aisha:
10.24pm

I can’t believe this shit's for real, Aisha. How can you not answer me? How can you not need me the way I need you? How is it fair that I found you, and you found me, and we both know damn well how rare what we have is, and you still wanna let me go again? For something so stupid.
Okay fine then, do that, but...
How do I let you go?
Stupid question, I won't.
I’ll be coming to get you. You know I will.

To Aisha:
10.46pm

I wrote a song
 
It goes like this:
Reply to me.
Answer me.
Reply to me.
Answer me.

The only thing I did today was drink, smoke and went down a really bad drug-loaded club.

Everyone and everything is falling apart. The Mumbai gig yesterday was a shit show. I forgot most of the lyrics.
Don’t ask why, sweetheart. You know.

Though after that, I called up Sudo. We hung out for atleast an hour, and It was great. My people are the best thing about India. On a sidenote, he found a girl, and got tips from me on how he should ask her out. She likes him equally back. I hope they get together. That's good, right? That I’m wishing good things upon good people.

To Aisha:
10.50pm

By the way, you were right when you told me you can't let me go... cause I can't either. You were right when you told me how much it'd hurt you that you couldn't see me... and now, I'm not hurt. I'm fucking dying in your thoughts.

To Aisha:
11.16pm

What started of as one bottle of whiskey is now on two. And a couple of beers. Oh sweetheart... You're driving me insane.

To Aisha:
11.40pm

You know how in The Notebook, Noah and Allie drifted off but ended up back together? That's your favorite movie isn't it? Do you think we can do that? If there's ever a Notebook 2, it'll be us ;) haha

To Aisha:
12.18am

But really how are you? Are you okay? What did you do today?

To Aisha:
1.03am

I think I'm passing out... Just please, help me.

Love me again. Miss me again. Help me come back to life... please? I know you can do that. C'mon Aisha! Don't be like this. You really can. You can do anything. My girl can move mountains if she wants. The mountains won't be able to resist you either. Too bad, you're mine.

💫💫💫

This morning was hell. I didn't wanted to look back at the messages. I knew I would delete half of them. I called her about 3 times this morning too, but she wouldn't pick up. I don't know why I had so much hope.

I was well into my second pack of smokes today, wondering what was the point of all this. Of staring at nothing and watching time and air move—despite their invisibility. I was high on a bit of cocaine and drunk on whiskey.

And I had questions. So many. All of them the wrong ones.

Was Aisha okay?
What was she doing?
How was I going to make it work?
Did I even have a chance anymore?

I had one phone conversation with Alexis, and it was to tell her to fuck off and that she wasn’t going to say anything about what had happened. Aman told me not to worry about it, he said that I was fine legally, I was in the clear. Like I cared... Like I fucking cared anymore.

The doorbell rang three times. Who the fuck was it now? In the morning? Are people even awake at 10am in India?

Had I ordered something? I didn’t remember ordering anything.

Two more rings and a knock. Peeling myself off of the couch felt like trying to remove a hundred-ton brick from my shoulders. Since when was my body so heavy? I hadn’t eaten all that much since Paris, and had probably lost a few pounds, which was weird since I love abs and eating healthy.

"I’m coming," I groaned, shuffling to the door. "Who is it?" wow, good to know I can actually talk today. I glanced through the peephole, wanting to know.

"Jeet Khurana." His head snapped up as he screamed—actually screamed—straight into the peephole, as if it were a mic.

Aisha's older brother. He existed in my mind as a ghost, a tool that had brought us closer by his wedding. I’d hardly talked to him after that. He was one of best friends. Alot of people were my friends, that dosen't mean they are now.

I was just thankful he was the one little shit who’d actually behaved worse than I had in college.

I knew I had to open the door. Even if he wanted to murder me--understandable, and I considered that as a good thing, cause maybe, just maybe, I could still find out what Aisha is upto. Hell, I was half-elated with the idea of being punched by a person who shared her DNA.

I opened the door and probably said the most stupidest thing I could ever say to him. "Is she okay?" I asked.

Jeet ignored my question, pushing me deeper into my apartment. I let him, even though we were the same height, I might’ve been slightly taller, actually. But I had more build.

"You know? My sister doesn’t open up to many people. She is guarded by nature. Growing up, when we all graduated and went our separate ways, I turned into a wild animal. Every time I threw a party or had friends over, she’d lock herself not only in her room, but in her closet. And she would listen to music and sew. Some of the music she’d listen to was yours," he said as he crowded me, making me walk backwards.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but Jeet wasn’t waiting for an answer. He gave me another shove, and this time I stumbled towards the open-plan kitchen.

"When mom died, I turned so bad... even worse Rohan! I had parties almost every week to try to numb the pain away, but my sister never said anything about it. See, Aisha is just that good. Even when I got drunk, stopped focusing on my career and basically screwed up everything, she still stood right by my side, squeezed my hand, and looked at me like I was important."
The third push made my back crash against the kitchen sink.

I barely winced, too engrossed in his story and where he was going with it. Jeet got so close to my face, I could see the little hairs on his nose. He smelled of alcohol and sweat and the kind of desperation I recognized, because I’d worn it like a cologne for years. But he was always smart, never smelt like that. Today for some reason he did.

"I knew she was going to give you her everything the minute you guys met at my wedding. Because that’s my sister. A classic do-gooder. Always gets attached. I thought, fuck it. She's going to learn this lesson on her own. I thought you’d play with her, use her, but it wouldn't matter because we'll  be there to pick up the pieces. And, eventually, everything would be fine. She would move on and find a decent guy. You'll be a nothing in her existence, just a good story to tell her friends on a girl's night out. Never in my life did I imagine you'd ruin her so deeply. Not just her, but us."

"Our family was already gone. There was just little pieces left, that me and Aisha joined to make Papa happy. But no, she cried because of you! The whole wedding, her attention was not on her brother getting married but instead it was on you! She moved to Paris, we've lost her, then she lost her bestfriend, because of you! You and your stuck-up girlfriend ripped her heart apart, and threw every single plan and the dreams she had for herself, dreams that she collected and wanted to achieve, into trash! Then you came back to cause more heartbreak... Now, you tell me, Rohan Nanda. How would you react if you were me?”

We stared at each other. His eyes were a shade darker than Aisha's. Browner. More intense. Suddenly, the need for him to hurt me was overwhelming. He felt like an extension of Aisha, and I wanted him to purge all the shit I put her through.

“I’d kill me,” I said, my voice steady and dry.

“Maybe not kill-me, kill-me, not in THAT way. Not go to jail, because jail time would be a drag, but I’d definitely leave a few forever marks before I go, I think I've already left some on your sister--.”

I’m not sure I even finished the sentence before his fist flew to my face. It was exactly how I’d imagined it would be. Shocking at first, then came the burn, then finally, the pain. The warmth of the blood trickling down from my right nostril prompted me to lick my upper lip, and I straightened back into position.

“You know?” He laughed to himself, shaking his head. “She could’ve been fine. She would've moved on. If only you didn't go to Paris and got those feelings out, she would not have been so heartbroken today.”
Another fist, this time to my stomach.

I folded in two, coughing whatever oxygen I had in my lungs. Shit. Guy had some strength in him. I jerked back, my eyes blurry. I could still see him. I could still fight back. I could maybe even take him. But his words came back to haunt me.
I’d lost the girl.
I was a monster.
And that was how he and Aisha was going to see me. For the rest of our lives.

"You're a selfish son of a bitch!" Jeet tackled my midsection and threw me sideways to the floor. I made no effort to fight him off, letting him pound his fists into my face repeatedly, until I stopped feeling anything from the neck up. His face, at this point was nothing but spitting animalistic growl and was contracted in pain.

I wondered if he realized how alike we were. How we loved the same girl. Granted, in very different ways—and how the same girl loved us, and wanted to save us, mainly from ourselves. We were similar because she wanted to protect us both.

"Is she okay?" I repeated, coughing up blood. If only you weren't a Idiot Rohan. If only you fought as hard as she did for you. You piece of fucking shit.

"We were friends, but I hate you so much," Jeet spat the same words his sister once told me in my face, yet again not answering my question. It was weird, how I couldn’t feel my flesh anymore, but I did feel his pain.

"I know," I growled out. Despite everything, it hurt to hear it. Not that I normally cared. I had people telling me I ruined music, people making memes of me, and endless stalkers trying to harm me, and their existence was meaningless to me.

But this was different. This was the guy whose sister I was in love with.
That was the first time the thought hit me fully, a blast straight to the brain. Endless toughts about Aisha. I was inlove. I know it. I feel it.

"You need to go to the hospital." Jeet sniffed, righting himself with a high stool by the kitchen island and standing up.
I made a humph noise, not bothering to move. The floor felt quite comfortable at that moment.

"Is she okay?" I asked again.

He shook his head like I was a lost cause. "Seriously man, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn’t you fight back?"

He started coming back to my vision inch by inch. He looked like hell with stubble and dripped sour sweat right into the open wounds on my face. But he’d asked a question, so it was only fair I give him an answer.

"Because I love her," I said. There was nothing to worry about when you told the truth. The truth was factual, and a fact is a fact, "Because I love your sister and because I deserve to get my ass kicked," I finished.

Jeet squatted down, squinting at me like I was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. Maybe I was.
"You love my sister?"

"Probably more than I love sex and my guitar and music combined." I tried to nod, but that was a mistake. It hurt like a bitch. Stung like a bee.

"Then what the hell are you doing here sulking on the floor? Don't you live in England? Didn't british people write some good-ass, solid love songs back in the day? Take a break Rohan, get your shitty-self in rehab. Get clean. Find your brain, then find her. Keep her. Win her back. And love her."

"Take a break." I repeated. The plan had always been in my mind. But who had time to rehab when you were on the edge of love?

"Rehab", he gave me a nod - "That’s all I needed to do. I can’t lose what I have. I just needed to beat the shit out of you, to let you know what it feels like."

Jeet stood up again. "I’m calling you an ambulance." He spoke, his voice disengaged.

I shook my head, but even that prompted me to wince. Had he broken my neck? I wouldn’t be able to breathe if he had. Why do I even care? I deserved to be like this.

Fuck, I really did need rehab.

"Don’t call an ambulance," I grunted, finally wiping the blood mixed saliva from my face. "I deserve at least an hour more of sulking on the floor. But do me a favor and leave Jeet? Or you can keep on punching me if you want..."

He immediately walked off and slammed the door behind him.

I started laughing.
Aisha’s face glowed like a thousand fireflies, in my mind.

I’d forgotten who I was.
I’d forgotten my name was Rohan Nanda.
And I’d forgotten all the mistakes we've made.
I didn't feel the pain.

The only thing I know, the only thing I want to know--Is Aisha. The only thing on my mind is her.
So tomorrow, I actually have a reason to wake up.

And it felt so fucking good.

I wince painfully again, as my hand reached down to my pocket to take out my phone.

💫💫💫

To Aisha:
10.30am

Very soon. I'll come back to you. With all my love.

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END OF CHAPTER.

Alright so this is it! OMG, how was that? Rohan finally confessed. YAYYY! How brilliant, we all can now take a sigh of relief. 😍❤

All we need to do is just wait and watch how everything from now is gonna unfold. The next chapter is INSANE! So be ready. 💕 And of course after that we have our final chapter.

⚠ Sneak peak: There's gonna be a time jump next chapter :) ✨
I would have left this a secret, but some of you would have been annoyed, so I'm just preparing this for you. Haha.

Let me know your thoughts, what do you think is gonna happen? We'll see whose prediction will come true. 😊

Make sure to leave a VOTE if you want more! and COMMENT. You guys are great and I'm thankful for all the love.

I'll see you all soon with the second last chapter, until then stay tuned! And goodbye. 💞💞💞