As usual, none of the questions seemed new to me. They were all the same; what was your inspiration for this album? What kind of music do you make? How does it feel like being famous?

It got boring at times, but we adjusted.

"How did it feel like going back to your hometown after so long?" One of them asked.

I smiled. "It was wonderful. We met our friends and family after almost a year, and coming to the fact that we had never stayed away from our home for so long, it was truly mesmerising. We loved and enjoyed our stay in Goa."

"Did your stay in Goa inspire you to create new music?" Another reporter asked.

"Considering the fact that we stayed in Goa for only three days," Andrew began, laughing a little, "no, we didn't write any music there. But we have a few ideas in mind, and we are thinking of inculcating our homeland into our songs."

"Oh we are?" I piped, raising my eyebrows and turning towards Andrew.

"We're not?' Andrew replied, an amused expression on his face. I looked back at the reporters and shrugged.

"Guess we are."

A small chorus of laughter emerged from the reporters.

Another reporter introduced herself and I searched the audience until my eyes landed on her.

"Yes, go on," I said.

"It is very clear how much chemistry you and Andrew share onstage, and I must say, I love the sizzling chemistry."

Andrew and I chuckled. "Thank you," I replied.

"Yes," the reporter gave a tiny laugh before continuing. "So fans are speculating whether the chemistry also exists off stage or not. Is there anything you want to say about that–"

"Are you serious?" I scoffed and cut her off. Andrew and I glanced at each other, an equal look of annoyance masked by fake laughter on our faces.

"We announced at the beginning of the session that no personal questions would be entertained," one of our management's member spoke out and cancelled the reporter's question.

"If anyone has anything else to ask about our music, please go on," Andrew spoke into the mic.

About a hundred questions later, the session was finally over, and I couldn't help but dream about my bed because it was calling my name.

"Home!" I groaned and dropped into the car dramatically. Andrew chuckled and followed suit.

"You guys, thank you so much for sticking up with this," Angela said through the car window.

"No problems," I replied. "Hey, aren't you coming along?"

"Nah, I have my car right here. Have a safe drive home and get lots of rest, you two! Stay hydrated."

"'Kay, Angie," Andrew gave her a boyish grin and she walked away. I leaned against the car door and placed my legs on Andrew's lap, my toes pushing against the opposite door. My long legs never fit in the car seats.

Andrew raised his hands away from my legs and looked at me, puzzled and amused at the same time. "Bruh. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the window as the car engine buzzed to life. "Don't. I'm too tired, my legs are paining."

He chuckled. "I know."

I felt his hands slowly remove my pumps and drop them on the car floor. I opened my eyes and looked at him, eyebrows raised. He didn't utter a word as he started pressing my feet, his long fingers delicately gliding over my swollen skin and massaging the stiffness away. I let out a soft moan as goosebumps spread across my legs.

"Gosh, I didn't realise my feet were paining that hard. Thanks a lot, Andrew." I smiled at him.

He smiled back, shaking his head. "No problem, Keighlah."

Still smiling, I lolled my head on the car door and look outside the window. I watched as the tall glass buildings flew past the car, as the big trees rushed by. Andrew had stopped massaging my feet and now his hands lay limply on my legs. I made a mental note to give him a good neck massage when we reach home.

A few weeks had passed, and Andrew and I had fallen back into our normal routines. Then one day, my father called.

I stopped and stared at my screen for a while. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I hadn't spoken to my father since that fateful night before we came back to the States. Feeling unsure, I picked up the call after a long time it has rung.

"Hello?" I said into the phone.

"Hello." came his short reply.

We became silent. My eyes bounced around the room as I scrambled for words, anything to speak about because—I didn't talk to my Dad.

"Um . . . so . . . what is- uh, how are you?" I asked in broken sentences.

"I'm good." He paused. "I heard your songs."

I did a double take. My mouth hung open as I registered his words.

"Y-you. . . you heard my songs?" I said slowly, my voice filling up with astonishment.

"Yes."

"Really?" I squealed a little.

"Yes."

I couldn't help but let out a gleeful laugh. "Oh my God! You heard my songs! Wait. . . did you like them?"

He remained quiet for a long time before answering, "they were adequate."

"You liked them!" I exclaimed.

"I didn't say that."

"Of course you didn't say that!" But you meant it.

I was grinning widely, my cheeks starting to hurt a little. This was such a milestone moment in my life.

"You don't know how much this means to me, Dad." I gushed, tears of joy pooling into my eyes.

"Yes, I do," he said, his voice softening a little, and I felt a small tug at my heart. "Talk to your mother."

Before I could say another word, Dad gave the phone to my mother and suddenly, she was speaking to me.

"He really heard my songs?" I said.

"Yes, my Koko," I heard the smile in her voice. "He has been listening to your album non stop for the last week!"

"Andrew!" I called.

"Ma," I said into the phone, laughing. "This is the best thing ever, ma."

"Yes, yes it is."

"Did you tell him to listen to it?"

"No, he did it himself."

"Out of his volition?"

"Yes."

"Really?!" I squealed. "Andrew!" I called for him once more.

Andrew came running to my room and stopped at my doorway. "What? What happened?" He asked, a little panicked.

"I'll call you back." I said into the phone and cut the call.

"Keighlah?" I heard Andrew say as he moved towards me, and held my arms.

I gave out an exhilarated giggle as I grasped his hands back.

"He heard our songs," I said, all giggly.

Andrew cracked a tiny smile of his own as he looked at my face and asked, "who?"

"My father!" I exclaimed, and the unshed tears of joy finally flowed out of my eyes.

"Your father?" He asked in pleasant shock. I nodded my head to and fro, vigorously. "He really did?"

"Yes!" I hugged Andrew then, burying my face into the crook of his shoulder.

"That is . . . oh my God, that's-"

"Yes, exactly." My voice was muffled as I spoke against his t shirt. Andrew's chest rumbled and shook as he gave out a delighted laugh and hugged me back tightly.

"All I've ever wanted was for my father to finally accept me as who I am and–"

I broke away from the hug and looked at Andrew, my arms still around his neck. "It's finally happening, Andy. He– he heard my songs– our songs. And he liked them!"

He smiled at me. "I'm really happy for you, Keighlah."

I gave out a giggle. He left a tender kiss on my forehead and hugged me once more.

And I felt like something that was missing in my life was finally back.

•••

Next chapter - next Saturday at 10pm IST.