Rave & Roses {A Rema Fanfic}

24 - ZARA

Back in Nigeria, reality hit hard. The high of our time together in London seemed like a distant memory as Divine became consumed by his album's rollout. Between photoshoots, interviews, and endless studio sessions, there was barely any time for us.

At first, I tried to be understanding. I knew how important this album was to him and how much effort he was putting into making it a success. He'd text me occasionally, but the replies came slower and slower, sometimes hours, even days, apart. And when we did talk, it felt rushed—like he was only half there.

I told myself it was temporary, that things would get better once his schedule eased up, but the distance between us grew wider with each passing day.

I felt helpless. There was no one I could vent to—not my brother, not my friends. No one knew about us, and keeping this secret love bottled up was suffocating. I missed him so much it physically hurt, but I couldn't complain because I knew he was working hard for his dreams.

Still, the loneliness crept in, wrapping itself around me like a heavy blanket. I started losing sleep, my appetite vanished, and the vibrant energy I usually had for my work dulled.

One night, after staring at the ceiling for hours, I gave in and went online, searching for something—anything—that could make me feel better. That's when I found myself looking up medications for anxiety and depression. At first, I hesitated. I knew this wasn't the right way to handle things, but the idea of feeling numb, of silencing the ache inside me, was too tempting to resist.

I started taking the pills secretly, convincing myself it was just to get me through this rough patch. They dulled the sharp edges of my emotions, numbing the pain, but they didn't take it away completely.

Divine noticed something was off during one of our rare phone calls. "Zara, you sound different," he said, his voice full of concern.

"I'm just tired," I lied, forcing a smile he couldn't see. "Work's been hectic."

"You sure?" he pressed. "You can tell me if something's wrong."

I wanted to scream, to tell him how much I missed him, how lonely I was, but instead, I said, "I'm fine, really."

But I wasn't fine. Not even close. And the longer this went on, the more I wondered if we were strong enough to survive it.

_

The weeks dragged on, and the distance between Divine and me felt insurmountable. His texts came less frequently, and even when they did, they were short, almost mechanical. I told myself he was just busy, but that excuse was wearing thin.

I tried to focus on work—brand deals, photoshoots, and content creation—but even that didn't bring me the joy it once did. Everything felt forced, like I was moving through life on autopilot. My audience saw the glamorous posts, the smiling pictures, and the polished videos, but none of it reflected the storm inside me.

One night, after a particularly long day of work, I sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the small bottle of pills in my hand. I hated how much I'd started depending on them, but they were the only thing keeping me afloat. I popped one into my mouth and washed it down with water, letting the numbness settle over me like a shield.

I knew this wasn't healthy, but what other choice did I have? I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt—not about Divine, not about the pressures of my career, not about the suffocating loneliness. I didn't want to burden him with my struggles when he was already dealing with so much.

A few days later, Divine called. His name flashing on my screen sent a jolt of both relief and anxiety through me.

"Hey," I answered, trying to sound normal.