Our Love Is Torture

Chapter 36 - Things You Said

Hello omg! I know it's been a while but it feels so good to update for you guys again.

This chapter is from heart, Rohan's been through so much, its gonna be a beautiful read to know about his life after the last chapter. 💛

We've also hit 10k by the way! Like whaaatshsjwk?!? It's so surreal, Thank you all for the love. Much appreciated. 🤗🙏

This is the second last chapter. I'll save the 'book talk' for the end. For now, make sure to give this chapter a VOTE if you want more.
Also, COMMENT your thoughts.

Enjoy 💕

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Rohan's POV

4 months later...
September 15th.

Rehab was different. I knew it was different because this time--when I took the break, I actually paid attention. The first time I’d had absolutely nothing to distract me. My last album had flopped harder than a Lindsey Lohan movie. That is why everyone knew Rohan Nanda and albums aren't a thing. Rohan Nanda and singles are.

This time, I had a huge single in my hands, my greatest masterpiece, waiting to be produced and released.
I had a girl to win- Aisha- and the uncertainty of second-guessing whether she’d even hear me out consumed every millisecond of my day.

Still, I knew rehab was important.
So I listened.
I went to every class.
I held hands with strangers. With people who’d gotten addicted to prescription pills, badasses girls who snorted cocaine and ruined their lifes, a preacher’s son who’d fallen into the arms of heroin, and a Russian women who, like me, drank litres and litres of alcohol to numb the feeling that the world was closing in on you from all angles.

I wrote letters to my family and friends. Angry letters. Apologetic letters. Funny letters. Then I burned them all. Cause I didn't give a fuck about them. I just wanted Aisha.

But, I couldn’t write Aisha shit. Everything I had to say to her--every single groveling word just had to be said in person.

I was losing money, and sponsorships, and listeners, and fandom, and who the fuck knows what else. I still didn't care, instead, I felt good cause I fixing myself and writing good stuff.

Two months passed.
I came out of rehab.

I was in Brighton, and Aman wanted my ass in London as soon as possible. I was practically dying to be normal and rehab was normal, and I wanted that more for some time.

So I ditched Aman. 
After rehab was over, I took a cab straight to the airport. I landed in- Istanbul, Turkey a few hours later. Why there? you may ask,
Because the earliest flight was going there...
I ate a gas station sandwich--because some things never change.
Then crashed for fifteen hours. I slept like I’d never slept in my life. Like I’d worked the entire two months in a fucking cornfield.

Then I woke up, wrote and ate another station sandwich for breakfast, wrote some more and had every flavour sandwich for lunch and dinner too. Continued the same routine every single fucking day, for the next 3 days.

Then I caught a flight back to Brighton again. Took the train back to London just to feel human again, pulling my beanie and hoodie all the way down, and showed up at the recording studio.

One months passed.
I recorded the single.

Another one month of promotions, and interviews, and magazine covers, and the - 'Comeback of the Year!' headlines. Guess who's back? Rohan Nanda: An Artist, a Rockstar, and a New Man.