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Without any preamble, she delivers the news that I’ve been dreading. “You know I love you, Meg, but we’re going to have to let you go.” Her voice is flat and devoid of emotion but her eyes are wet and I know she’s also been crying. “My hands are tied.”
I stare at Brynn, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. None of this is her fault. She’s been put in an impossible position, torn between her loyalty to me as a friend and her duty as a boss.
The weight of my failure is a thick cloak that I can’t shake off. I’ve lost my job, the one that I put so much time and effort into.
But I’ve lost more than just my job, I’ve also lost the man that I love. Kaan’s words echo in my head, “Take a little of your own advice and walk away from people that don’t want to be helped.”
I try to hold my head high and walk out of the office with confidence, but I know everyone is looking at me, judging me. And you know what? They’re right!
Meg Martin has come full circle.
Single and unemployable.
Status Quo.
ChapterThirty-Two
The Six-Month Rule
THIS JUST IN:
Listen up, folks! The man we’ve all been waiting for is back and better than ever. After a stint in rehab, Kaan is currently cooking up something that will rock our world—his long-awaited solo album. And guess what? It’s going to be a killer.
From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, the album is titled “Shattered Pieces” and it’s going to be a real tear-jerker. Sources close to the industry can’t stop raving about its emotional depth and maturity. This album promises to take us on a wild ride through Kaan’s psyche, leaving us feeling like we’ve been through the wringer.
But let’s not forget the elephant in the room, shall we? Last year, when Blair Roberts passed away from an overdose, fingers were pointed at Kaan, and he spiralled into a dark abyss. Nobody thought he’d be able to recover from such a tragedy. But with the help of his loved ones and time spent in rehab, Kaan was able to dust himself off and make his way back to the studio.
So, who else is itching to hear what Kaan has to offer? I know I am.
I’m Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-sense.
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When I first heard about the six-month grieving period, I scoffed at the idea. Six months felt like an eternity, and I couldn’t imagine feeling that way for so long about a relationship that technically lasted only a few days. But as it turned out, those six months were exactly what I needed to rediscover who I was and find my passion once again.
Those six months were dedicated to getting over the rock-star.
Kaan had been out of the limelight for a while, but now he’s back, fresh out of rehab, and set to release his new album titled “Shattered Pieces”.
Oh yes, really.
Industry insiders are already raving about the album’s maturity, revelatory emotion, and unconventional climaxes, claiming it will “astound the listener and solidify his solo success.”
The thought of Kaan releasing “Shattered Pieces” really burns. It’s like he’s rubbing salt in the wound he created when he shatteredmyheart into a million pieces. And it’s not like I don’t want him to succeed. I do. I just can’t help feeling the betrayal that comes with knowing that he’s releasing something that he wrote about us.
I know I won’t be able to avoid the album forever. Eventually, I’ll have to face the fact that he’s moved on, but for now, I’ll let myself feel the hurt and anger that comes with its release.
I remember watching the highlights of Blair’s funeral on television, shedding tears for her wasted life and for my role in it. Kaan gave a eulogy that was thankfully short, looking almost strung out, brittle and drowning in grief. His white shirt and black suit were creased, and his usual gorgeous mane was stringy, as though he hadn’t showered in days.
My heart practically broke as I watched him along with five others carry Blair’s coffin to the hearse for her final journey to the cemetery. After the funeral, it was reported that Kaan checked himself in to New Life Farm. I could only hope that he would get the help that he needed.
Those six months were an opportunity for me to rediscover who I was without the weight of expectations and responsibilities on my shoulders and to lose the emotional baggage that had controlled my life for so long.
I decided to go to therapy. At first, it felt like a joke, but I soon realised that a lot of my issues were related to my relationship with my mother.
I didn’t need a therapist to tell me that, it’s as plain as the nose on my face!
Nicole Martin, the mother who took great pleasure in telling me and anyone else who would give her the time of day that the rock-star nevertrulyloved me. It took me practically blackmailing Nicole to travel to London by telling her I would never give her grandchildren for her to join me at my therapist’s office, but once she was there, we were able to talk about what was really important: that she only wanted the best for me. My therapist pointed out that what’s best for me is a mother who accepts me for who I am, warts and all. It might be a small victory but it’s more than I had gotten from her in the past 29 years and it made a huge difference to our relationship. I ring her now, and not just because I have to, but because I want to.
