June 28th 2015, New York
Almost a month had gone by and I was landing again in the Big Apple. Things hadn't changed that much ever since that night, but I had luckily managed to not meet Harry or Stella ever again: every time I heard his voice coming from the dressing room or backstage, I walked away and I had sent people to collect my boxes at the flat. Both of them had truly disappointed me, especially because they hadn't even tried to talk to me. I didn't know - nor wanted to know if they had decided to take things to the next level but I wished them both the best, they had found each other after all. I avoided any kind of social media, except for when I posted news, tweets, and photos for my fans, and I tried to stay out of the public eye too. It wasn't good for my publicity but my team had been kind enough to understand the situation and let it go. I had become a loner. I didn't want to get attached to anyone. I didn't want friends. I didn't want lovers. I spent most of my time in the studio (even if I hadn't been able to write any songs ever since the 'accident', I couldn't bring myself to it... I just couldn't) or in my hotel room. Alone, indeed. I had, in fact, officially moved out of the flat and was living in a hotel in London, but I was in New York to actually look for a house. Truth to be told, I loved New York too much to let those two ruin it for me. I wanted a change, a breath of fresh air, and I knew that New York was the best place to reborn. My family was convinced that it was a bad idea to go alone, but they didn't understand. That was what I needed. I was willing to move across the Ocean if it meant forgetting about them, finding myself again and be happy again.
Yes, I still wasn't happy. I was still very sad and heart broken.
Yes, I relived the scene, tried to make sense of it and cried pretty much every day.
Yes, I felt lonely and doomed in my hotel room.
Yes, I needed a change and felt relieved as I collected my luggage from the conveyor.
I smiled as I walked outside. I wasn't even bothered when paparazzi started taking pictures of me. I recognized the car I had called while I was waiting for my bags and hopped in, right after waving at their cameras. I told the address of the little flat I had rented up until the 8th of July (the date I had to go back on tour) and the chauffeur started the engine, right after kindly smiling and nodding at me. Jazz music started playing in the background and I immediately felt relaxed and free: something I hadn't felt in a long time. As we were approaching the city, the sunset over the Manhattan skyline in front of me caught my attention. It was breathtaking. I finally felt lucky and weirdly content as I took my time to sink in the beauty of it.
Right: I had been cheated on by my boyfriend with my childhood best friend... but they had totally taken a back seat as I entered my house for the next days. I mean, I was a nineteen years old girl, loved by thousands of amazing fans, lucky enough to make music for a living and able to pay a flat in Manhattan... how could I complain about life?
The flat was located in Greenwich Village, a neighborhood on the west side of lower Manhattan, also known as the artists' heaven and, since I needed the inspiration, it seemed like the perfect occasion to seize the moment and spend some time there. The house I had chosen looked like a magical encounter between the historical legacy and the contemporary pulse of Manhattan. The main entry door led into a large room which walls were original brick walls. There was a brick fireplace too, which gave me the vintage vibes, and a leather couch right in front of it. I kept on walking and saw two staircases in wood, with metal fittings. The staircase extended up from the room into the bedroom. It was simple, there was a huge California King bed placed in the middle of the room, a wooden desk close to it, a leather chair and some pieces of art I adored. A hidden door led me to the bathroom: a little cute one, with a steam shower and a bathtub I couldn't wait to put to a test. My mind soon thought of Harry: he would've loved the place. Damn, my plan was to forget about him and here I was, already thinking about him.
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