**Hi, guys... How have you been? A request from many of you is granted...

 A new romance story just for you!**

Samaira

January 3, 2017

"What the hell you think you are doing here?" I scream in rage at the figure in front of me, pushing Veer behind me.

"You have no right to keep me away from my son," Mohan bellows, advancing towards us through the threshold of the door.

"He was your son, Mohan! You are nothing to us now," I say through gritted teeth. The smell of cheap beer hung in the air between us. The cold night air was still.

"Don't you know sweetheart who are you dealing with?" he sneers burping in between.

I stop and stare back with a tinge of fear surfacing on my facade. My ex-husband is terrorizing me to come back to him. Worse part, he wants Veer. Turning, I look at his face. My three-year-old boy is scared as he clutched his large teddy bear in his other arm. It was a miracle that I got out of the legal battle winning. He had pulled every possible string to make it otherwise. My husband, now so drunk that he can't stand still, was once very powerful. Now all he had was bad reputation and no power. His father, the great MLA of Southern Mumbai, was behind bars on the charges of money laundering from municipality funds. The family of Bhausaheb Chauhan had crashed like the house of cards. And I can't be more pleased.

"Don't think that I would not avenge you, Somi. You took everything away from me," he spits. "You will pay for this, you whore. Just watch and see what I would do to you."

"I will wait for it. Now, get the hell out!" I exclaim and saw my mother wrapping her pallu around her and coming to my aid.

"Look, just go. Or I will have to call the police," warns Sunita, in her trembling voice.

"Dear Aai, how good to see you," Mohan slurs and bends down to touch her feet. Instantly, she backs away in fear.

I take the hold of his arm and shove him out of the door. I do not wait enough see him tumbling on his feet as I ram the door shut.

Josh

January 3, 2017

The view from my hilltop house looks splendid on the winter morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down on the skyline gives me immense calm. But my head throbs silently as the hangover persists. I had chosen this place as my house on purpose. It offered me the view of the Hollywood valley with all glass structure. The condo gives me the feeling of living on the air, while the earth lies beneath me. But now I am not on the top of the world. I am actually falling with a greater speed than the speed in which I had risen to fame. Josh Hudson, the record break pop singer, who after releasing his first single, became a celebrity overnight. All the years of the hardships to get a record deal forgotten in a blink. Now it's been four years since my first album. I don't think they even put it on the shelves of the store or get more than hundred downloads on the iTunes monthly. My fame is declining, I guess I will be nobody in few months. My agent, Richard Krishnan, had put me on tremendous pressure since last few months. He warns me if I don't come up with another composition, my life would go downhill. I would have to leave this lifestyle and shift to some studio apartment and start again.

Every day, when I woke up, I tried and tried to come up with some tunes. I scribbled few lyrics which did not sound too original according to him. At the end of the day, the frustration of being out of my creativity took a toll on me. One glass of scotch would turn into a second, second would eventually turn to more and whole of my being was questioned with every damn sip.

Yesterday was another disaster; my ex-girlfriend had shown up with her gang from a party and soon we were drunk and partying with pounding music and finishing my last stock of alcohol.

"Fuck, my head hurts," I curse and try sitting up. I look sideways and curse again. Rachel and Fiona lay together under the covers deep in sleep. "I am bloody losing it! Every fucking time!"

I grab a shirt lying on the floor and pull over me. I go downstairs and see my housekeeper, Maria throwing beer bottles into a large plastic bag. She is not more than fifty, with a permanent scowl on her face and taciturn attitude. She didn't gaze at me as I walk down, clutching the side of my throbbing head. I pass her through the hallway towards the kitchen and pour black coffee in the mug with my graphic face imprinted on it. I sit on the counter and notice the time. It is already past ten. I gulp down the scalding hot coffee and head for the shower.

"Maria," I call out. When she turns and faces me, I say, "I am expecting Richard. I will appreciate if you clean up the mess here quickly or better yet stall him in the garden itself."

She grumbles and murmurs some Spanish words while cleaning what looked like vomit on the coffee table. I know that she must have used nice curses at me. Don't I pay enough to keep her judgment to herself! I stomp out and decides to ask for a new young housekeeper who will do my bidding without questions.

When I come out after fifteen minutes, I see Richard downstairs with his arms crossed in front of him. "Hey man," I try to sound cheerful and decent down.

"Is the song ready?" he asks, locking my gaze with his intense one. It seems that he noticed the mess and as usual jumping to conclusions.

"I am working on it, Richard. Let's just walk out and sit by the pool. Will you have a cup of coffee?" I say, gesturing me to follow.

"No coffee, Josh! Tell me at once, do you have the song ready for me?" he says, fixed on the spot.

"You know... I need to work on one more verse and then I will give it to you by this weekend," I lie, like many other times.

"Fuck you, man!" he shouts and advances at me. "I am in a very tight position and you know it. Freddie is mad. He is so much mad that if we don't give him the song, not only he will not renew the deal but he will see to it that you would not get any in the future."

"Fuck!"

"Yea. Fuck alright. I am sticking my neck out for you and here you are partying like a maniac. I have had enough of this shit. My career is at stake. I can't fucking risk it anymore, Josh. I just had a baby and I will not risk my future in the hands of a fucking drunkard!"

I sit down, with my head in my hands. The ringing pain is back. His words stab me in my heart. It's true, what he says. He had already bought me a year worth of time and I haven't delivered what I had promised him. Even going through series of therapy sessions and counseling, the depression dawdled in my head. I remember Madhu and their baby Tia and the guilt sucks the soul out of me. "I am sorry. I really am. I am in hell, Richard. Hell. Whatever I do, it's just put me back to my dark place. This airy and sunlit condo is making me claustrophobic. How bad is it going to get? What the fuck I should do? How the fuck should I write a love song, when I have nothing in my life? Where is my inspiration?" I look at him with remorse in my eyes.

He kneels in front of me. "Josh, look at me," he orders.

I see in his azure eyes, lost and failed.

"We need to solve this problem, buddy. I stuck with you from the beginning. We are good friends, are we not?"

I nod.

"Should we try working with songwriters? I know you had problems with Laila. We can find another one for you. The best in the industry, maybe Heidi Macbeth. You two can collaborate. We will give her generous loyalty. What say?"

"It's all about striking the same wavelength, man. I have tried with Laila. Her words did not strike me. I think I would be able to give justice to the song if I do both lyrics and music myself. I just need to find an inspiration, maybe a break from this."

He rises and sits beside me. He contemplates my reply while running his hands on the rim of his Rolex. It's already January 6th. I promised Freddie a song by this week. We have already past our due date. I am not sure if we will be able to buy more time," he mumbles and mimics my stance by putting his head in his hands.

"Just buy me some more time and I will promise you a killer song. I will put all my heart into it. You know it would be good," I request earnestly.

"You are my only bet. You better not screw up this time. Or else I will have to look for another client or maybe find another job," he replies. "You will get till this month end. For this to happen I will literally have to kiss his ass."

"You are my man," I hug him with my arm. "Before this month, I will give you a perfect song to start with. Maybe write some more."

"Don't start kissing my ass, you idiot. Pull your shit together and then we will talk. Just pray for your benefit that I will come back tomorrow with a good news," he reprimands.

"Counting on you!" I say and not believing myself to come up with a song in only three weeks. But hell! I needed to produce something, or else I am done! Some shitty apartment down there with other struggling singers and small time gigs that were all I would get.

He stands and gives a disgusting look on the clothes strewn on the floor, vases smashed. "Wait for my call," and with that, he walks off.

** New update in few minutes! Meanwhile, drop in comments... :)**