Rave & Roses {A Rema Fanfic}

45 - DIVINE

Three months had passed since that stormy night. The world had moved on, but I hadn't. My song Calm Down, featuring Selena Gomez, from my Rave & Roses Ultra album, reached a monumental milestone—becoming the first African album to hit two billion streams on Spotify in April. It was a surreal moment, one that should've felt triumphant, but there was a lingering emptiness inside me. Despite the accolades and the massive success, I couldn't shake off the ache that clung to me like a shadow.

I was also in the middle of my world tour, performing in sold-out arenas, living a dream that so many others would kill for. But after Zara left, everything had changed. The rush of the stage, the adoration from fans, the cheers and flashing lights—it all felt distant. My heart had shattered into pieces, and no matter how much I tried to bury it in my music, the cracks remained.

I had thrown myself into my work, letting the beats and melodies consume me. Music had always been my escape, but now it felt like the only thing keeping me tethered to the world. It was as if the Divine the world once knew was slipping through my fingers, replaced by someone who could no longer find joy in the very things he used to love. My heart wasn't in it anymore, but I had to keep going. I owed it to myself. I owed it to my fans.

But the truth was undeniable: I was no longer the man I used to be. Zara's absence left a gaping hole in my soul, and the music, while comforting, couldn't fill it. I was too heartbroken to fully embrace the success. There were days when the applause felt hollow, like I was performing for a version of myself that had long since disappeared.

I wanted to go back to who I was before the heartbreak, before the mess of emotions clouded my every thought, but I didn't know how. So, I kept pushing forward, pretending that everything was okay, even as I struggled to enjoy the things I once did. The world saw the chart-topping artist, the man who could do no wrong, but behind closed doors, I was still healing, still hoping.

Despite the success, there were moments when I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. The nights in my hotel rooms were the hardest. Alone in the silence, I could hear the ghosts of the past—the sound of Zara's laughter, the warmth of her touch, the softness of her voice. She had been my anchor, the one person who made me feel grounded in a chaotic world. Without her, everything seemed more hollow, more fleeting. The applause, the lights, the crowd—they were just a blur in my mind, fading faster than I could catch them.

Michael tried to keep me distracted during the tour, always bringing up new ideas, new projects, anything to keep my mind from wandering back to her. But no matter how many meetings or interviews I had, no matter how much success I piled on top of my already heavy plate, the loneliness always crept in. It followed me everywhere, a constant reminder that something was missing—someone was missing.

One evening, as I sat backstage, staring at the crowd beyond the curtains, Michael approached me with her usual energy. "Divine, you've got this," he said, his smile warm but knowing. "You're killing it out there, but you're also killing yourself by pretending you're fine when you're not."

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "I don't know how to do this anymore, London. I don't even recognize myself anymore. The music is there, but the magic—it's gone."

He gave me a long look, one that carried more understanding than I wanted. "You've been through something huge, D. Grief isn't just something you move past in a few months. It takes time, and you have to give yourself that time."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that I didn't have time, that the world wouldn't wait for me to heal. But deep down, I knew she was right. I was living in a whirlwind of emotions I hadn't processed. I wasn't just mourning Zara—I was mourning the man I used to be, the carefree version of me who believed in love, in the future.