Royalty Gone Bad
Chapter 22: 22. Homesick
***
Writer’s POV:
Asahd made it back to the apartment the next morning, completely exhausted and even more unsure of New York City and the girls/young women that lived it it. He was homesick. He was money sick. All he wished for at that moment, more than anything else, was to return to his country.
--
He unlocked the door and got in. It was six AM and the others were still asleep. He went to his room and collapsed on his bed.
′I hate this life. I hate this city. I hate its parties. I just hate everyone.′
He covered his face in his palms, wanting to cry all of a sudden from all the nostalgia.
′Don’t shed a damned tear, Asahd. Not now please.′
He was tired of smiling, tired of acting like everything was coming into place and that he was starting to have everything under control. Lies. He was tired of trying to fit into a life he believed was not meant and never was meant for him to live.
“I can’t,” he muttered, a lump in his throat. “I just can’t. I wanna disappear so bad. I want to hate my parents and Djafar for this but I can’t. I love them.”
He groaned in desperation and rolled unto his stomach, grabbing his pillow and burying his face into it.
“I can’t!” he screamed into his pillow. He was really fighting the urge to cry. “What can I do, to get out of this mess? What?”
He was silent for a while, breathing hard into his pillow. And all of a sudden, like lightening, it hit him. One of the best ideas he’d had yet.
Asahd sat up with wide eyes and gasped a little, hope written all over his face.
′I can save up a lot of my salary and extra money till it’s enough to by my ticket back to Morocco and another ticket from Casablanca to Zagreh! Yessss!′
grabbed it. Then he went on to search the price of a plane ticket to Morroco and how much more he would need to save up for it to be converted to Moroccan
some weeks I can get to this amount and fly the hell back to
a sudden, without Saïda or Djafar knowing my real intentions. They would only hear the news that I appeared in Zagreh. My parents would probably punish me for it by locking me up in
enough money and return to his country. He had to be very careful so neither Saïda, nor Djafar would discover his intentions and try
this living hell in a few weeks. I must leave this place. I just have to,” he muttered, feeling very sleepy all
his clothes, put his phone away
***
his daughter, later that same morning at
Lemme check
doorknob and stepped in. She was relieved to see Asahd fast asleep and wrapped up in his sheets. She poked her head out and told her father
like to have
the door behind her. She approached his bed
and opened his eyes. He had sleep
“Mm?” he hummed, sleepily.
you like some, now?”
sleep, his eyes refusing to open. And then he mumbled. “No,
heat them up a little. You hear me?
in peace?” he grumbled in sleep and tossed in bed, the sheets coming off him and exposing him in nothing but his boxers. Saïda gasped a little and being the good and kinda naïve girl she was, she turned immediately and backed
having breakfast then,”
***
spoke a little
thinking of getting a job,
“Why?” Djafar asked.
to do. The only thing I do here is
Do you have an idea on where to ask
the ingredients to make our food. I think they can take me to help. I’ll go ask the owners. It’s an old couple,
for a job there. Let me know