Stardust and Kisses

Aaron I heard Jasper, my manager, shout urgently, "We need to leave immediately!" Before I could process what was happening, I was ushered into the car, shielded by my bodyguards as the clamor of the crowd faded behind me. The chaos outside was familiar, but this time, it felt more intense. As the world outside the car window blurred into darkness, my phone buzzed predictably. I glanced at the screen—Dad. Of course, it was him. I picked him up, but he didn’t waste a second. “Aaron, what have you done? I told you to stay out of this mess. Do you have any idea what this could do to my reputation?” His voice was a mix of anger and worry. Typical. Rolling my eyes, I sighed, “I’m fine, Dad.” “I was worried sick, son. Seeing you like this, constantly hounded by the media—it’s not normal. You shouldn’t have to live this way.” “I know, Dad. I’ll be home in ten minutes,” I said, trying to calm him down before hanging up. Being Aaron D'costa—idol, singer, public figure—comes with more chaos than peace. The love from fans is overwhelming, but so is the scrutiny. This time, though, it wasn't just the usual fan frenzy or paparazzi invasion. No, this was a full-blown scandal. Some trashy tabloid had published an article claiming I was involved with men and had assaulted my bodyguards. Ridiculous. But that’s what happens when you’re in the spotlight—everyone feels entitled to your life. Normally, I’d let it slide, but this time it wasn’t just about me. It was about Dad. He’s a major figure in Manhattan, and this could hurt him more than it could hurt me. He’s always been my biggest supporter, never pushing me into the family business after Mom left us. He raised me alone, and I owe him more than I can ever repay. I couldn’t let him carry this burden because of me. Lost in thought, I barely noticed when the car pulled up to the mansion. Jasper rushed to open the door, but I waved him off. “I got it, Jas.” He followed me closely, his face tense. “This is a mess, Aaron. We need to take control of the situation.” He held up his iPad, showing me the photos—the ones making rounds online. Photos of me with men, taken out of context, twisted into something vile. I clenched my jaw. “I’ll handle it.” As I stepped into the mansion, Dad was already waiting for me in the dining room. He looked tired, worried. I felt a knot tighten in my chest—he didn’t deserve this. “I told you to get some rest, Dad,” I said, grabbing an apple and sitting down across from him. “How can I rest when you're all over the news?” His voice was laced with concern, his brows furrowed. “I saw how those reporters were after you.” “I’ll deal with it,” I insisted, but he shook his head. “No, you stay out of this. Let me handle it. I won’t let anyone drag you down.” He came over, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything. Trust me.” I watched as he headed upstairs, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. I couldn’t let him fight this battle for me, not again. This wasn’t just about me anymore—I had to do things right. Exhausted, I went to my room and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Singing has always been my escape, my way of processing everything. But right now, it isn’t enough. Fame came with too much baggage, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could carry it on my own. I got up, headed to the balcony and swung the door open. The cool night air hit me as I sank into the beanbag and lit a cigarette. I took a long drag, trying to exhale the weight of the world with each puff. The city sprawled beneath me, lights flickering like stars as the night closed in. I couldn’t help but wonder how things had spiraled this far. When did it stop being about music and start being about everything else?