KRISTIAN's POV

When we land in Moscow, I immediately reach for my phone to see if Parisa sent me a text. Tijana snatches it away before I can turn on the power, and puts it in her purse. I glare at her and she rolls her eyes.

"Parisa should be done by now," I say. "What if she already texted me? I want to talk to her! It's past midnight; she's probably on the bus or at a hotel now."

Tijana's mood instantly changes and she does not look mad anymore. Her expression softens and she sighs. I don't understand why she is suddenly so worried. All I did was mention my girlfriend. I don't see what can be wrong with that.

"Can I please have my phone?" I impatiently ask through gritted teeth.

"Wait until we see your brother," she responds, sounding annoyed at my behavior. "You don't want to call her now, Kristian. Trust me. Let's get off the plane."

I know better than to argue with her, so I grab my backpack and stomp behind her. Everyone left on the plane turns to me as I pass. They all have the same sympathetic look on their faces for some reason. I try to ignore them by lowering my gaze, but I can't get them out of my head. Why are they all staring at me like something bad happened?

I don't speak to Tijana or anyone else on my team as we walk through the airport. I wish I had my phone so I could listen to music or have something to distract my mind. The walk to the terminal seems longer too. Ugh, I hope she has a good reason for doing that! I was in such a good mood on the lane that I actually followed Parisa's advice and slept for half of the three hours.

When we reach the metal detectors, I sigh. I easily place my wallet, shoes, bag, and belt into the little bin, but taking off Parisa's ring is difficult. I glance over at my team, and they don't look too pleased with my sluggish speed.

It's just a few seconds, Kristian. God, nobody will steal it from the bin! Stop being so over-dramatic. Take the chain off and just go! The sooner you're on the other side of the gate, the sooner Tijana will give your phone back.

I quickly take the chain off and place it in the bin. I zoom through the detector and retrieve my belongings, grabbing the chain first. Once it's around my neck again, I can breathe easy and move on.

Except...something's off. Since Eurovision, I've always been approached each time I return home. Nobody will so much as shoot me a smile now. It's eerie. I feel like I'm in one of those old silent films because there's no sound—no people talking, no shoes clicking against the floor, no nothing. I don't get it. What the fuck is happening? My team haven't even looked my way or spoke to me!

Seeing Daniel welcome me with a smile and open arms immediately makes me feel better. There's nothing like family to turn a frown upside down!

"You look exhausted," Daniel notes, looking me up and down. "You alright?"

"The flight was only three hours long and I slept for half of it," I shrug. "I can sleep when we get home. I can't wait for my own bed! Now can you please tell Tijana to hand over my phone so we can leave? She's had it since we landed. I wanna ask Parisa how her show went. That's all."

When I said Parisa's name, Daniel's gaze shifted to someone behind me—I'm guessing it's the phone snatcher. I don't understand why everyone's being so weird. Everyone was cool when I was in Paris. Do they think Parisa's a bad influence on me or what?

"Will anyone tell me anything, or can we leave now?" I question, looking from one useless person to the other. "We don't have all night, you know."

"He's right," my brother thankfully says. "We should uh—let's go, Kris. Tijana, c-can I have his phone?"

I turn to Daniel, confused. "Why do you want my phone? Are you guys planning something against me? Are you trying to break up Parisa and me? Is that why you don't want me to talk to her?"

Salty tears trickle down my face as I think about Parisa. By now, it's been over four hours since she called me. She looked so scared, like something bad would happen, but I told her to not worry. I promised to meet her here, and I intend to keep that promise. I don't care how silly I sound for speaking like this or how young I am; I love her.

"Fine! Take my phone, Dani. I'll just get my luggage so we can leave," I angrily decide. "The sooner we're out of here, the better. The vibe is fucking creepy tonight. I don't like it at all."

I know something is up. They wouldn't be acting this strange or holding my phone hostage if they weren't keeping a secret. The thing is, it's not just Daniel, Tijana, and everyone else on my team who's treating me weirdly—everyone here looks bothered. Nobody tries to talk to me as we head to the exit. Nobody even looks alive. It's like a vampire sucked the life out of all these people and they're walking, bloodless corpses.

I head straight into the passenger side once Daniel's car is in sight and the door clicks unlocked. I slam the door shut, leaving my bags for him to deal with. I know I'm acting like a stubborn child—sometimes I still am one—but can anyone blame me? Everyone's keeping me in the dark while they "protect me" from whatever the hell is so bad, they won't let me vent to Parisa about it.

I catch my reflection in the rear-view mirror and grown. I look horrendous! My hair wildly stick up in every direction and I'm a shade or two paler than usual. My glasses can't even hide the monstrous bags under my eyes or the dull, dirt-like color they've turned from constant little to no sleep.

"No wonder Parisa said you need sleep," I mutter as I try to fix my hair. "How the hell did you let her see you like this, Kris? Damn, you're lucky she's super chill and understands!"

The door suddenly opens, making me jump and hit my head on the roof. Oh, it's just Daniel. He smiles small and prepares for takeoff, closing the door, buckling himself in, and placing the key in the ignition. I must have been so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't realize he loaded all my stuff inside already.

"Hey, can I have my phone now?" I politely ask. "I want to listen to music a—"

"We'll just listen to the radio," he cuts me off. "Wait until we get home, Kris. You can live without contact from your beloved fans for a little longer. It's not the end of the wor—you'll manage."

I'm too tired to argue, so I sit back and turn on the radio. Parisa's latest single is playing. If I can't speak to her, listening to one of her songs is the next best thing. Daniel doesn't seem to agree. Once he realizes it's her song, he switches the station. But the next one also plays a Parisa song. And the next one. And the next one. And the next one.

"DAMMIT, WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS?" he shouts, turning off the radio after the tenth station. "What sick joke is this? Why is nearly every station playing her stupid Eurovision song?"

"Hey! It is NOT a stupid song!" I jump to her defense. "It's a beautiful and emotional song."

"They still shouldn't be playing it."

I thought he likes Parisa. Daniel was more than excited when I told him we were dating, and he even jokes about our future kids. I believe he puts Giovanna to shame because he wouldn't stop texting me about Parisa. Before I left for Paris, he even tried to smuggle condoms into my suitcase in case I "got lucky!" that's why this behavior shift is weird. He wouldn't suddenly change his opinion about her unless there's a valid reason.

It would be unwise to ask him about it, especially since he's driving and I'm not too keen on him angrily crashing into something, so I let the topic sit for the remainder of the drive. The quietness suits the ambiance and our setting. I roll down my window to breathe in the cool nighttime air and wake up a little. It's also a great distraction from my thoughts, so I lose myself in the passing scenery and fresh air.

We reach our apartment in no time. Daniel helps me carry everything inside without a word. I'm okay with this. Sometimes words can't fully express our thoughts. I don't know what to say or how to approach the subject, anyways.

Ten minutes later, we collapse onto the sofa in the living room, exhausted. I'd hate to end tonight on a bad note, so I continue to hold my peace and keep quiet. Daniel stares at me, watching me with interest. Okay, what gives?

"Where'd you get that ring?" he wonders, pointing at my throat. "Did some French girl at the airport give it to you? Are you engaged now?"

I take off the chain and hold the ring. It glitters under the poorly lit light like a true treasure. The green, white, and red gems stand out from the gold band, drawing all of the ring's attention to themselves. I'm smiling like an idiot right now, but I don't care. It's Parisa's ring; she always makes me smile like an idiot.

"So you did get it from a girl!" he teases, jumping into the seat beside me. "What's her name? Is she cute?"

I roll my eyes and scoff. "It wasn't just any girl, Dani. Parisa gave this to me before I left. It's really special to her too. Her parents gave this to her as a gift for winning Eurovision and the stones represent the Italian flag."

Daniel's mouth is to the floor at he stares at me in shock.

"Look, I'm exhausted. I want to sleep soon. Can I have my phone so I can tell her good night? Please, Dani. Jus—please."

"I can't do that," he whispers, shaking his head and drawing back. "Kristian, just go to sleep, okay?"

"What am I, two?" I fume, standing up. I slip the chain around my neck and glare at him. "I'm your brother. Why are you treating me like a child?"

"BECAUSE YOU ARE STILL A CHILD, KRISTIAN! JUST GO TO FUCKING BED, PLEASE!"

I can't believe we're having this argument. I can't believe he's doing this to me! But two can play at this game. He may have my phone, but I can still message her from my laptop.

I stomp to my room, clutching Parisa's ring in my hand. I know Daniel's following me; I hear his footsteps. I refuse to let him have the last word, so I spin around to face him once the door opens.

"You can have my phone," I seethe. "I have my laptop. I can use that."

"Don't," he begs as tears stream down his face. Why is he so upset? "Kristian, don't do it. Don't message her. Don't go on social media. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"BECAUSE SHE'S DEAD!"

I nearly choke on my breath. I shake my head in denial and lower my gaze as my eyes water. He can't be serious. There's no way Parisa is actually dead. This ring—she physically gave this to me just hours ago so I'd always have a piece of her wherever I am. I kissed her. I held her in my arms. I spoke to her literally right before I boarded the plane. Parisa isn't dead; it's impossible.

"You're lying," I breathe, trying to hold down my emotions at the possibility of him being right.

"Kristian, I-I wish I was. I really, really wish this was a lie, but it's not. You know I'd never lie to you about something this serious. I would never do anything that cruel. Here."

Dani throws me phone over and I catch it just before it hit's the ground.

"I told Tijana," he continues, his voice cracking with each word and more tears spilling down his cheeks. "Sh-she took your phone to protect you, Kris. We know how much Parisa meant to you. We knew you'd have hundreds of messages waiting from your fans, your friends, Giovanna..."

"STOP LYING TO ME!" I weep. "PARISA IS NOT DEAD! SHE'S ALIVE, OKAY? ALIVE!"

"Check the news...check Twitter. #RIPParisa is trending number one worldwide a—"

SLAM!

CLICK!

With the door locked, he can't annoy me anymore. All of those lies are draining, so I head straight for bed after kicking off my shoes and socks. I run a hand through my hair and sigh as my phone turns on. God, do I need to speak to her after this shit!

He's right about the mass notifications and messages waiting in the wings. I ignore them all and head straight to my conversation with Parisa. My heart sinks. She hasn't sent me anything, not even a "buena nottte." Our last interaction was that FaceTime. (Good night)

Be safe, okay? I really care about you and I just don't want anything bad to happen.

She wants me to be safe, and yet my brother claims she's far from it. Pfft! I check her Instagram and see that she posted a pic of her with the crowd. I wipe a stray tear away and smile. She looks alive and well to me. Dani's a liar.

My Twitter notifs increase by the second, so I check those out next. My heart sinks lower and emotions creep up again as I scroll down. Everyone's sending out hugs and saying they're sorry for my loss. Everyone's wondering if I'm okay. I am. I'm just...confused. Why are people feeling sorry for me? Wh—

#RIPParisa

#ParisAttack

#StayStrongParisaPack

"No. No, no, no, no, no," I frantically whisper through tears. "NO! I refuse to beli—SHE CAN'T BE DEAD!"

The top three worldwide trends don't lie. This isn't a sick hoax; it's the real thing.

A click on each hash tag reveals my worst fears, proving my brother right. As I read through each tweet and educate myself on what happened, I slowly lose it until I can contain my feelings no more. I throw my phone across the bed and sob uncontrollably, hugging my knees and rocking back and forth. I hear a knock on the door and Dani calls my name, but I sob louder.

"I HATE THE WORLD. IT SUCKS!" I sob into my pillow. "I TOLD HER I LOVE HER AND NOW SHE'S GONE? WHAT'D SHE EVER DO TO YOU? WH—"

Emotions choke up my words. All I can manage is unintelligible blubbering. Our last few moments together flash before my eyes, making it worse to cope. Making out in her dressing room, serenading and dancing with her, seeing that adorable smile and the way her eyes light up when she looks my way...it's all to much to bear.

I reach over and grab my phone. I wipe snot off with the hem of my shirt and de-fog my glasses. I sort through my photos to find the perfect one of us together. After finding the one, I post it on Instagram. I'm such a mess, I can't even contain myself as I type the caption!

kristian_kostov_official: An angel gained her wings tonight. I can't believe ParisaNicchi is gone, because I spoke to her before she went on stage. From the moment we met, I knew we would share a connection, and I will never forget our last moments together. I admire her so much as an artist and person, and I was lucky enough to call her mine. Everyone please, send your thoughts, and prayers to her family and friends. I love you my angel #RIPParisa

A/N

I thought I'd end the LIFE section with Kristian's reation to Parisa's death. I cried when I wrote this on pen and paper, and I cried again when I typed this up. I felt for Kristian, and I'm sorry I broke his heart! I hope you guys are okay and I'm sending out hugs and tissues if you need them, because I definitely need one.

Thank you guys so much for 500 reads. I can't believe it! 

Next up: the Afterlife