Year 2024
A sliver of unforgiving morning light speared through the silk drapes, igniting a throbbing ache behind Rose's eyes. Disoriented, she bolted upright, only to find the luxurious sheets tangled around her bare legs – a chilling reminder of the night's revelry. "Oh, gods," she groaned, the words thick and sluggish on her tongue. "Not again!"
This wasn't a new sunrise for Rose. Waking up naked and famished in a strange location, the aftertaste of champagne clinging to her parched throat, had become a grimly familiar routine. Except, today, a peculiar detail sent a jolt through her foggy brain. She wasn't in her usual opulent hotel suite. This room was sterile and white, more art gallery than bedroom – the only adornment a stark canvas propped against the far wall depicting a single, crimson rose in full bloom.
Panic clawed its way up her throat, momentarily eclipsing the dull throb in her head. Her gaze darted around the stark space – no clothes, no purse, no phone. How had she gotten here? Memories of the night before flickered like dying embers – a poolside party, a blur of tanned bodies and clinking glasses, a handsome stranger with a dangerous smile. Then, a fuzzy void.
With a shaky breath, Rose pushed back the sheets, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Hesitantly, she began a silent trek across the white expanse, the silence broken only by the soft pad of her steps. Reaching the door, she turned the handle, a sliver of hope blossoming in her chest. It was unlocked.
Stepping out into a brightly lit hallway, she found herself surrounded by a sea of curious onlookers. But these weren't the usual partygoers; they were well-dressed patrons, their faces a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. A hush fell over the crowd as Rose entered their world, a lone, naked enigma amidst the artfully attired.
In that moment, a flicker of the old Rose, the one who built an empire from grease and grit, sparked to life. She straightened her spine, her chin held high, the defiance of a warrior queen facing an unknown battlefield. "Excuse me," she announced, her voice surprisingly steady, "could someone point me in the direction of my clothes?"
The ensuing silence was broken only by a single, amused chuckle.
"The party was far from over" !!
The air crackled with wealth and refinement. Diamonds winked from every manicured hand, and silk whispered against polished marble floors. In this symphony of couture, Rose stood out like a discordant note – a glorious, defiant mess. Her bare skin gleamed with an I-don't-care sheen, a stark contrast to the women around her who resembled gilded lilies.
Suddenly, a whirlwind named Arpita materialized behind her. A tiny scrap of fabric, barely qualifying as a bikini, materialized in her hand. "Here you go, you shameless thing," Arpita tossed it at Rose, a playful glint in her eyes. "Don't you have a shred of decency? This is a fundraiser, not a strip club!"
Rose's smile was a shark's grin, both predatory and amused. "Couldn't find anything more revealing for yourself, huh?" she purred, running a finger down the impossibly small garment.
Arpita's laugh echoed, a rich, infectious sound. "Hey, someone's gotta keep it classy," she winked, her shameless grin mirroring Rose's.
The tension in the room was thick enough to slice, but Rose and Arpita reveled in it. In a chorus, they flipped the bird to the assembled elite, their voices dripping with mock seriousness. "Screw you all!" they roared. "Screw this pretentious world! We are the queens, baby!"
And with that, their carefully constructed facades crumbled. Laughter, genuine and unrestrained, bubbled up from their chests. As the last vestiges of propriety dissolved, they collapsed onto a plush velvet couch, a tangle of limbs and uninhibited joy. In a world that demanded conformity, they were a glorious, defiant mess, and they wouldn't have it any other way.
The Intro
Rose wasn't born with a silver spoon, she was born with grease under her fingernails. From a young age, she was the one tinkering with engines, the one covered in oil while other girls played dress-up. That work ethic turned into an empire. Her car garages were legendary, a testament to her grit and knowledge. But empires, like roses, have thorns.
Success brought a bitter solitude. Surrounded by employees, she felt strangely alone. The freedom turned into a hedonistic whirlwind. Travel became a blur of parties, the clinking of champagne glasses a constant soundtrack. Alcohol became a crutch, a way to numb the emptiness. Men were fleeting companions, their touch as impersonal as a handshake. Drugs offered a temporary escape, never a dependence.
Modeling, once a childhood dream, re-emerged – a rebellious lark. But runways morphed into provocative shoots. Rose, with her fiery hair and fearless spirit, embraced the world of adult entertainment. She wasn't an actress, just a woman enjoying her sexuality. Friendships blossomed – actresses, performers, women who thrived on the fringes. Nudity became liberation, her body a canvas for bold self-expression. Social media became her stage, and the attention, a drug she craved. It wasn't just men fawning, but women too, admiring her audacity.
Thirty-five found Rose a paradox – a hedonist with a heart of gold. Arpita, a fellow fallen model, became her confidante, a loyal lieutenant content with Rose's world. Shital, a ripped but down-on-her-luck fitness enthusiast, joined as bodyguard and driver, grateful for Rose's unexpected patronage.
Rose, for all her wild ways, had an unyielding moral code. She paid her bills, never betrayed a friend, and helped those less fortunate with a surprising generosity. Her life was a kaleidoscope of contradictions - a self-made woman indulging in self-destruction, a rebel with a philanthropic heart. The world might have judged her, but for Rose, this was freedom – messy, exhilarating, and entirely her own.
Year - 2006
The city lights twinkled like a mocking invitation outside Rose's window. Inside, she dreamt of a life bathed in that glittering glow, a far cry from the cramped space she called home. A sharp rap at the door shattered her reverie.
"Who's there?" she barked, a defensive edge to her voice.
"It's me, Kiara," came the muffled reply. The tension in Rose's shoulders didn't ease.
"What do you want?" she demanded, flinging the door open.
Kiara, her best friend, stood there looking sheepish. "Hey," she said tentatively, stepping inside. "Look, about yesterday..."
Rose cut her off. "Ugh, just leave me alone! You selfish bitch!" she spat, anger bubbling over.
Kiara flinched but stood her ground. "I can't, Rose. You know that. All I have is you."
"That doesn't mean you get to waltz off to some fancy party without me!" Rose retorted, the memory still raw. "Those fancy rules don't apply when it suits you, do they?"
Kiara sighed. "It wasn't like that, baby. It was a last-minute thing. I swear I didn't mean to leave you hanging."
Rose scoffed. "Yeah, right. You know I love those parties, meeting new people..." Her voice trailed off, bitterness creeping in. "Especially the rich ones."
Kiara winced again. "Look, I know you do. But it really was sudden. Besides, why are you so mad? It's not the last one, right? I got another invite tonight, and this time, we're both going to rock it!"
A flicker of excitement sparked in Rose's eyes. At Seventeen, the promise of a night under the disco ball, surrounded by music and possibility, was hard to resist.
Kiara, a city girl raised in a distant village, had a fierceness that mirrored Rose's yearning for a better life. Working at a call center, she juggled two boyfriends and the money they provided to fuel a glamorous facade. Rose, on the other hand, came from a dirt-poor family. In her village, she was the constant reminder of a broken dream – three daughters, no sons. Her father had disappeared soon after her younger sister suhu's birth, leaving a void that only the city lights could seem to fill.
Tonight, with Kiara by her side, Rose could forget the burdens of reality and chase the dream, if only for a few fleeting hours. The promise of a night out, a chance to be whoever she wanted to be, was enough to quell the anger, at least for now.
Aunt Ava
Year - 2004
Rose, the eldest of three sisters, stared out the grimy window of her aunt Ava's cramped city apartment. Unlike the dusty village she left behind, the city hummed with a frenetic energy, a stark contrast to the life she'd known. Ava, her widowed aunt, had become her lifeline after her uncle, Ava's husband, passed away.
Ava wasn't your typical guardian. While Rose's memories of her own mother were filled with the constant struggle to put food on the table, Ava reveled in a hedonistic freedom. She shared a bond with Rose built on unspoken truths. They ventured out at night, Rose a wide-eyed observer as Ava, still beautiful in her late 40s, navigated the city's underbelly. In smoky, clandestine bars, Ava poured out tales of a life shattered by her husband's death. But the grief had morphed into a defiance, a determination to live life on her own terms, no matter how unconventional.
Ava, a former teacher, now used her charm to manipulate the system. Affair after affair – the boss, his son, even a woman she called "friend" – kept her pockets lined and her apartment stocked with good liquor. The women in the building, a mix of gig workers and widows like Ava, looked on with a mix of envy and disapproval. Ava, however, ignored them, a queen in her own dirty, chaotic kingdom.
Rose, at fifteen, saw a stark contrast to her mother's life of sacrifice. Ava's rebellion was intoxicating. Kiara, her friend and five years her senior, had fueled the fire, introducing Rose to the world of sexism and shameless self-expression. While Rose hadn't yet crossed the line into the world of drugs and alcohol that Ava inhabited, the allure was undeniable.
The city, with its promise of anonymity and escape, offered a blank canvas. Here, under the flickering neon lights, Rose could be anyone she wanted. No rules, no judgment, just the thrill of the unknown. The life Ava led, however, was a dangerous dance on the edge. Whether Rose would be swept up in the current or find her own path remained to be seen.
Rose, bathed in the city's neon glow, felt a familiar pang of longing. Months had passed since she'd arrived, a wide-eyed village girl clinging to her Aunt Ava's wild coattails. Ava, a firecracker of a woman, was a paradox. A notorious party animal and shameless flirt, she was also fiercely loyal and a surprisingly responsible guardian. They were an unlikely pair, Rose and Ava, laughing and gossiping like best friends, sharing secrets over steaming mugs of cocoa (Ava's vice) while Rose, the ever-responsible one, managed their tiny apartment.
Life in the city had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Rose, a quick learner, now navigated the bustling streets with ease, handling groceries, shopping, and housework with a quiet efficiency. It was at a local store that she'd reconnected with Kiara, a familiar face from their village. Kiara, five years older and seemingly worldly-wise, became Rose's bridge to the city's underbelly.
Ava, surprisingly, didn't object to Rose's newfound friend. Maybe it was a recognition of her niece's burgeoning independence, or perhaps a reflection of her own chaotic past. Secretly, Rose admired Ava's audacity. While she enjoyed the security of Ava's love and support, a yearning for her own path mirrored her aunt's rebellious spirit. Rose craved the freedom to define herself, a desire fueled by Kiara's tales of wild nights and uninhibited living.
The city, a kaleidoscope of possibilities, beckoned. Unlike the village where every path was predetermined, here, Rose could choose her own adventure. Yet, the warmth of Ava's ramshackle apartment, filled with laughter and the comforting aroma of cocoa, held its own allure. Rose, at a crossroads, pondered her future. Would she follow Ava's path, a whirlwind of hedonism and defiance? Or would she carve her own unique path, a blend of responsibility and wild abandon? Only time, and the city's ever-pulsating heart, would tell.
The Career
The summer sun beat down mercilessly, painting the sky a drowsy blue. Aunt Ava, a whirlwind of confidence in a scarlet string bikini, reclined on the plush sofa. A glass of wine balanced precariously on her bare midriff, a cigarette smoldering between her crimson-painted lips.
Across the room, Rose wrestled with a pile of clothes, frustration etched on her brow. "Don't you think it's time I started working, Ava?" she asked, her voice laced with a yearning for independence.
Ava, momentarily startled, choked on her wine. "Work? Honey, you have everything you need right here!" she exclaimed, gesturing vaguely at the sun-drenched room.
"It's not about money, Ava," Rose persisted, her voice firm. "It's about having a career, doing something meaningful with my life."
A slow smile spread across Ava's face. "Meaningful, huh? I know what you need, darling," she declared, rising languidly and slipping into a silky robe.
Rose eyed her aunt warily. Ava was notorious for her unorthodox solutions.
Ava, oblivious to Rose's apprehension, rummaged through her closet. "You, my dear, are destined for greatness," she announced, brandishing a pair of grease-stained overalls.
Rose blinked. "Greatness? In overalls?"
Ava chuckled. "Not just any overalls, darling. Mechanic's overalls! You see, your father was a mechanic, a true artist with engines. Maybe the grease runs in your blood."
Rose's eyes widened. Her father was a talented mechanic. The idea of tinkering with engines, the rhythmic symphony of a well-tuned machine, sparked a flicker of excitement within her.
That evening, Ava took Rose to a lively barbecue. Amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, Ava introduced Rose to a burly man, a "mechanic" with a gruff exterior and a heart of gold.
"Rose is a quick learner,," Ava declared, her voice husky from laughter. "Give her a chance, won't you?"
Mechanic guy skepticism was evident, but Rose, emboldened by a newfound purpose, met his gaze head-on. "I may not have finished school," she admitted, "but I'm eager to learn. I can read, write, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."
The mechanic studied her for a long moment, then a gruff smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Alright, kid," he rumbled. "Show up at the garage at nine sharp tomorrow. Let's see what you're made of."
As they walked home that night, the weight of Rose's dependence lifting from Ava's shoulders, Ava winked. "See, darling? You were born for this."
The thrill of a new beginning buzzed beneath Rose's skin. Maybe there was a different kind of freedom than lounging in a bikini, a freedom that came with the satisfaction of a job well done, the legacy of her father ringing true in the whir of a well-oiled engine.
The Hard Work
Year - 2005
The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of pistons and carburetors. Rose, her face smudged with grease and a satisfied grin splitting her lips, watched another satisfied customer ride off on a purring motorcycle. "Not exactly a peak day, darling!" gruffly remarked the mechanic, the seasoned mechanic who'd taken a chance on her a year ago.
"Doesn't matter," Rose countered, her voice strong and confident. "Even with fewer customers, I'm learning something new every day."
The mechanic snorted. "You could be here for free, girl, considering you have no family pulling at your purse strings."
Rose's smile faltered for a moment, a pang of longing for her younger sisters, Namitha and Suhu, twisting in her gut. But she quickly pushed it down, focusing on the whirring engine in front of her. "Maybe," she admitted, "but I like earning my keep."
Suddenly, the mechanic's gruff voice cut through the air. "At least you can hawk those spare parts, bitch!"
Rose, unfazed by the harsh language, raised an eyebrow. This wasn't her first encounter with the rough edges of the mechanic world. "Don't you have any respect for girls?" she challenged, a glint in her eyes.
Mechanic chuckled, a rough sound devoid of malice. "Respect? This ain't a finishing school, kid. You want to be here, you learn to handle a bit of grit. Makes our ears tougher, you get it?"
Rose flashed a genuine smile. "Yes, sir. Loud and clear."
"Good," the mechanic rumbled, a hint of pride in his voice. "I knew you had it in you from the first day. That smile of yours, it hides a firecracker, doesn't it?"
And Rose did. The days had melted into months, and she'd become the garage's head mechanic. Sure, she still needed help with the most complex jobs, but she tackled every customer with a determined spirit. For Rose, getting her hands dirty with engine oil wasn't a chore, it was a badge of honor. Her sun-kissed skin and athletic build weren't just for show; they were tools of her trade. Maybe she wasn't conventionally beautiful, but in the grease-stained world of the garage, she held a different kind of charm. She had her loyal customers, and Hank, now showing the lines of his age, spent his afternoons resting, finally confident in the woman he'd trained.
Rose, at 18, had transformed from a village girl with dreams to a young woman carving her own path. Money wasn't the only reward; she loved the roar of engines, the satisfaction of a job well done, the thrill of transforming a broken machine into a roaring beast. There were no shortcuts, only hard work and unwavering passion. And in that greasy, noisy world, Rose felt a sense of belonging she'd never known before. She was home.
A New Friendship
The rumble of Rose's motorcycle faded into the twilight as she pulled into the familiar driveway of her aunt Ava's apartment building. A friendly voice called out from the porch. "Everything alright, dear?"
Rose smiled, recognizing Mrs. Paula, the chatty owner of the nearby grocery store. "Just a bit sore, Mrs. Paula. Long day at the garage."
With a grunt of exertion, Rose swung her leg off the bike and winced. Her back ached from hours spent hunched over engines. Inside the apartment, the usual faint strains of music were absent. Rose called out, "Ava?"
"Here, love!" came a muffled reply from the bathroom. "Just admiring the latest fashion trends."
Rose raised an eyebrow. Ava, with her flamboyant lifestyle, was notorious for leaving laundry piles to reach epic proportions. However, a nagging suspicion prickled at Rose. She dropped her lunch bag on the table and moved towards the bathroom door.
"Ava, you never wash your own delicates," Rose said, her voice laced with amusement. "What's gotten into you?"
A beat of silence, then a flustered, "Oh, you know, just killing some time."
Rose's amusement curdled. A sound, soft and muffled, drifted from behind the shower curtain. Her stomach clenched. Without a word, she spun on her heel and headed for the door.
Just as Rose reached for the knob, the bathroom door swung open. Ava, clad in a bathrobe, blinked at her in surprise. "Rose? Where are you going?"
Rose froze. The image of a figure behind the curtain burned in her mind. Shame flooded her cheeks. "I, uh, I just thought..." she stammered, unable to finish the sentence.
Ava's smile evaporated, replaced by a confused frown. "Thought what, darling?"
Rose, on the verge of tears, blurted, "You shouldn't be doing this, Ava! You're practically a grandma!"
Ava's jaw dropped. This wasn't the reaction she'd expected. She watched, bewildered toward Rose, remaining half-naked and clutching a cigarette, bolted out of the apartment.
With a sigh, Ava picked up her phone and dialed her boyfriend. "Listen, darling," she said, her voice laced with exasperation, "something urgent has come up. Maybe we should reschedule...?"
Meanwhile, Rose roared down the familiar streets towards her friend Kiara's apartment. Kiara, ever the free spirit, lived life on her own terms. She wouldn't judge.
"Rose! What a surprise!" Kiara exclaimed, flinging the door open. "Come in, come in! Need a drink?"
"Water would be great, T," Rose mumbled, stepping inside. "Actually, make it two."
Kiara, used to Rose's occasional late-night visits, raised an eyebrow but didn't pry. They'd grown accustomed to communicating in shorthand over the years, their lives becoming increasingly busy.
Rose, unable to hold it in any longer, blurted out the entire story in a breathless rush. Kiara listened patiently, her brow furrowing with concern.
"Alright," Kiara said once Rose had finished, "take a deep breath, okay? Now, tell me honestly, was Ava doing anything wrong?"
Rose, caught off guard, shook her head. "No, I guess not..."
"Then why the outburst, Rose?" Kiara pressed gently. "Maybe you're just feeling a little isolated?"
Rose considered this. Kiara, always perceptive, might be onto something. She felt a pang of loneliness, a yearning for connection.
Kiara squeezed her friend's hand. "The world can be a harsh place, Rose. But you can't let it dictate your happiness. Look at me, I navigate relationships the way I see fit. People's opinions don't pay my bills."
Rose contemplated Kiara's words. Maybe she needed to adopt a similar attitude. It was time to stop seeking validation from others and focus on her own path.
The clock struck midnight as Rose, feeling a newfound resolve, decided to head back to Ava's. She found her aunt pottering around the kitchen, a half-finished meal on the counter.
"Early night, isn't it?" Ava said, surprised. "Thought you wouldn't be back until sunrise."
"Just needed some air," Rose replied casually. "And Kiara's doing alright."
Ava smiled warmly. "Good to hear it. You know, sweetheart, you don't have to act like a stranger with your own aunt. Remember, I'm your confidante, your partner in crime."
Rose felt a wave of warmth wash over her. Their bond, forged through unconventional circumstances, had become stronger than ever.
Despite her confidence, a secret ache gnawed at her. Unlike her younger sisters, who seemed to effortlessly attract attention, Rose felt invisible to boys. This frustration, coupled with a lack of guidance in her youth, had exposed her to a world of confusing messages about sex and femininity.
One night, the yearning for connection intensified. Rose shared a quiet dinner with her Aunt Ava, but the familiar comfort wasn't enough. As the clock struck midnight, a wild impulse seized her. Grabbing her bike keys, she drove to her friend Kiara's house.
A loud rapping echoed through the quiet night. Kiara, bleary-eyed and in pajamas, threw open the door. "Rose? What are you doing here at this hour?"
"Just missing you, baby," Rose said, a sly grin playing on her lips.
Kiara, despite the absurdity of the situation, couldn't help but be drawn in by Rose's infectious energy. "Come in, come in," she ushered, a hint of laughter in her voice. "Let's have some fun."
"Absolutely," Rose agreed, then did something entirely unexpected. In a swift movement, she shed her clothes, standing naked before Kiara.
Kiara, speechless, stared for a moment, her initial shock giving way to a strange sense of exhilaration. This wasn't the Rose she knew. This was raw, unfiltered, and strangely liberating. Deciding not to break the spell, she slowly peeled off her nightgown, a silent invitation.
The night unfolded in a haze of laughter, shared secrets, and stolen glances. Wine flowed freely, the taste turning sweeter with each passing hour. As dawn painted the sky a delicate pink, they finally collapsed onto the couch, utterly exhausted but strangely connected.
That night, a seed of a new kind of friendship was sown. The vulnerability they'd shared stripped away any barriers, fostering an unspoken acceptance. They could now be themselves around each other, without judgment or shame. It wasn't a romance, but a connection built on a shared experience, a pact of unwavering loyalty formed under the cloak of a summer night.
Fading Spark
Rose, a force of nature honed by a tough childhood, could tackle any job and thrive in any situation. Her body, sculpted by years of hard work, housed a sharp mind, a product of her unconventional upbringing. As a child in her village, running miles for fun, hauling endless buckets of water, and transforming her humble home - these experiences forged the ambitious, fiercely independent woman she'd become. Money was her only limitation.
Freedom was her birthright. Never one to follow orders, she'd carved her own path.
Each day began at 8 am with chores. Ava, her aunt, had grown increasingly lethargic, succumbing to the allure of late-night parties. Rose, unfazed, accepted this as Ava's way. Breakfast and a lime juice – a morning ritual to combat Ava's hangovers – were par for the course. Despite Ava's sluggishness, her dedication to personal care was admirable, a silent influence on Rose, who, however, never sought guidance in this area. Ava, in turn, patiently awaited the right moment to introduce her niece to the world of cosmetics.
The mechanic shop, once her workplace, was now practically hers. Her mentor, weakened by age, had passed the torch. He had no family, and Rose, through sheer hard work and a knack for innovation, had earned his trust and his legacy. She'd transformed the garage, implementing changes that boosted profits.
But Rose craved more than grease and engines. Her passion for motorcycles extended to performing stunts on her ever-upgraded pre-owned bikes. As the garage business plateaued, Rose's lifestyle skyrocketed. A gym membership, swimming lessons, designer clothes, lavish vacations, and expensive trinkets became her new normal. Her circle of friends, beyond Kiara, expanded rapidly.
Despite her intelligence and work ethic, Rose's lack of education and emotional maturity were ticking time bombs. A high school graduate with a short temper and a constant need for validation, she competed with everyone. She was a walking billboard for her lifestyle, spending frivolously, saving nothing, desperate to be the center of attention. The most expensive item at the office became her default choice. Taking a cue from Ava, she adopted revealing clothing, oblivious to time or place.
Ava, meanwhile, had discovered a new passion – her gym trainer. Rose, ever the copycat, took up working out, not for fitness, but to flaunt her physique. Her early exposure to Ava's unconventional approach to relationships had warped Rose's sense of self-respect. Shamelessness was a habit, ingrained from a young age.
Year - 2011
The year was 2011, the dawn of social media. Rose, a local celebrity among the 15-to-30-year-old crowd, reveled in her online persona. Her Facebook profile overflowed with semi nude revealing photos, her thirst for attention overshadowing her accomplishments. Customers dwindled at the garage as Rose, lost in the heady world of fame, travel, and fleeting male admirers, neglected her responsibilities. Bills were paid by her smitten entourage, Ava drowned her sorrows in whiskey, and Rose basked in the dubious glow of social media fame – a following built on a foundation of superficiality.
She was a viral sensation, but in a dark corner of the internet, one frequented by a predatory audience. Blind to the looming disaster, Rose, the self-proclaimed social media queen, had traded respect for fleeting admiration, a dangerous exchange that could unravel everything she'd built.
Setting up Turmoil
Hunger gnawed at Rose, but a different kind of hunger consumed her even more – a desperate need for attention. This manifested in an unhealthy competition with every woman she encountered online. Her "friends" were cut from the same cloth – cheap models who prioritized fame over substance. Parties and fleeting relationships became the norm.
One night, at a rave party pulsating with flashing lights and throbbing music, Rose met Arpita. Arpita, clad in a skimpy bikini, seemed like a kindred spirit.
"You sexy thing," Rose purred, her voice laced with challenge. "Where have you been hiding?"
Arpita, seemingly unfazed, countered, "Seeing you, I think we came from the same place."
Rose, ever the queen bee, decided to test Arpita's loyalty. "Don't you think that's a bit revealing? I mean, you don't exactly have the figure for that tiny thing."
Instead of defiance, Arpita offered a submissive giggle, unhooking a strap from her bikini top. "I can go beyond this in a full crowd, wanna see?"
Rose, basking in the implied admiration, felt a surge of power. Arpita, within a month, became Rose's constant companion. Their days were filled with selfies, endless social media posts, and questionable business decisions. Arpita, however, lacked Rose's ambition. Failed acting career and a desperate need for money had led her down a path of backbiting and cheap thrills. Despite this, Rose, blinded by a superficial connection, embraced Arpita as her confidante.
Aunt Ava disapproved, refusing to allow Arpita to move in. Rose, however, ignored the warning signs, drawn to Arpita's supposed admiration. Arpita, in turn, skillfully manipulated Rose, steering her towards a circle of equally lost souls – a group of failures, devoid of ambition or direction. Rose, initially attracted to their chaotic energy and constant praise, found herself sinking deeper into a world of meaningless partying and self-destruction. Her once thriving garage lay neglected, the echo of silence mocking her misplaced priorities.
Her once athletic body became sluggish, her workouts replaced by shameless displays of her body at the gym. Her social media persona, a carefully curated fabrication, masked a growing emptiness within.
The friends who surrounded her now were like a drug – intoxicating but ultimately destructive. They reveled in her self-destruction, their admiration a hollow echo. Rose's savings dwindled, replaced by mounting debts she desperately tried to hide.
Year - 2013
The year was 2013, and a knock on the door of Ava's apartment shattered the fragile illusion Rose had built. Kiara, her face etched with concern, stood on the other side. The apartment reeked of stale alcohol and broken dreams. Empty bottles littered the floor, girls in various states of disarray sprawled on couches. Rose, bleary-eyed and reeking of last night's excesses, emerged from her room.
"Are you serious?!" Kiara's voice cut through the fog clouding Rose's mind. "This is you, Rose? What happened?"
Rose mumbled a greeting, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. Kiara, taking in the scene, saw the destruction Rose had wrought. Tears welled up in Rose's eyes, a silent admission of defeat.
Kiara, ever the voice of reason, took Rose to a nearby cafe. Over coffee, the harsh truth spilled out. Rose, drowning in debt and self-loathing, confessed her mistakes. Kiara, while disappointed, refused to abandon her friend. She listened patiently as Rose revealed the chaos that consumed her life – the neglected business, broken friendships, and a future shrouded in uncertainty.
Then, Kiara dropped a bombshell. "I'm getting married," she whispered.
Rose, momentarily forgetting her own troubles, erupted in joy. The celebratory shout, however, drew unwanted attention from the other patrons. Shamefaced, Rose apologized for the outburst.
"Who's the lucky one?" Rose asked, a flicker of genuine happiness crossing her face.
"Someone I met a couple of years ago," Kiara confided. "We understand each other, and it feels right."
Rose's smile faltered. Here she was, stagnating, while Kiara, her equal, was moving on, building a life. A wave of despair washed over her. Kiara, after leaving Rose at her apartment, headed to work. Alone, Rose embarked on a long walk, the city streets blurring as she grappled with her reality.
The walk was a solitary journey of introspection. Each step pounded a question into Rose's mind: how had it all gone so wrong? The money squandered on fleeting pleasures could have given her sisters a chance at a better life, a responsibility she'd so carelessly cast aside. Reaching the garage, she found it a silent sentinel, mocking her neglect. Its closed doors shut out not just business, but a future she'd taken for granted.
Panic clawed at her throat as inquiries about Leena yielded nothing but vague shrugs. Paula's scathing remark echoed in her ears: a harsh reminder of her misplaced priorities. Leena, unreachable by phone, had vanished. Rose, fueled by a surge of remorse, raced to Leena's hostel, only to discover she hadn't been seen there for a week.
The weight of her actions pressed down on her. She needed Leena, not just to salvage the business, but to mend the trust she'd so recklessly broken. Back at Ava's apartment, the sight of her still-sleeping "friends" triggered a flicker of shame. Their world, once alluring, now seemed suffocating. Grabbing her motorcycle keys, she embarked on a frantic search, visiting Leena's friends one by one.
The incoming call ring from Leena's phone shattered the growing desperation. Relief washed over Rose as she heard Leena's voice, laced with a hint of apprehension. Ignoring the exhaustion gnawing at her, Rose sped towards Leena's location, a torrent of apologies forming on her lips.
Leena, safe but clearly shaken, explained the reason behind the closed garage. Debt collectors, tired of Rose's indifference, had started harassing Leena, pilfering equipment as collateral. Shame burned in Rose's gut – a stark contrast to the numbing oblivion she'd sought in parties. Leena's words hung heavy in the air, a testament to Rose's broken trust. As tears streamed down Rose's face, Leena, with a silent understanding, offered a shoulder to cry on. The road to redemption would be long and arduous, but for the first time, Rose seemed to acknowledge the journey that lay ahead.
The Sister's Lifestyle
Rose, determined to change her life, decided to bring her sisters to the city. But first, she needed to get her own house in order. Reaching out to her godmother, Aunt Ava, Rose received a much-needed loan and some tough love. Aunt Ava understood Rose's need for self-reliance and refused to simply give her money.
With a renewed purpose, Rose cleaned up her apartment and even managed to convince her messy friend, Arpita, to help. Arpita, though undisciplined, had a good heart. She saw Rose's struggle and offered her support. However, Arpita eventually recognized that this city life wasn't for her and returned to their village, leaving a goodbye note.
Months passed, and Rose transformed. She embraced a healthy lifestyle, cleaned up her diet, and started running. Her skills sharpened, and she became a certified car mechanic in addition to her motorcycle expertise. Ready to finally bring her sisters to the city, she sold her unnecessary belongings and saved her money.
The journey to their village was long and arduous, filled with nostalgia for Rose and Aunt Ava. Reaching their childhood home, Rose was greeted by her tearful younger sister, Namitha. Their mother, frail from illness, rested inside. The reunion was bittersweet, filled with joy and unspoken worry about the future.
Rose's sisters, Namitha and Suhu, both longed for a life beyond the limitations of their village. However, a concern remained: their mother. Aunt Ava, anticipating this, had already formulated a plan. They would move their mother to a relative's home within the village, ensuring her care while Rose's sisters pursued their dreams in the city.
A week later, they were back in the city, now a family of four. Aunt Ava effortlessly assimilated her nieces into the household routine. Rose, noticing Namitha's hidden talents, encouraged her to pursue a career in makeup artistry. Suhu, happy to escape the village life, enrolled in school to retake her 11th grade.
While Namitha thrived in her chosen path, Rose's garage business faced challenges. Her reputation as a bike mechanic didn't translate to car repairs, leading to a frustrating lack of customers. With a heavy heart, she had to let go of her employee, Leena, and even considered closing the garage.
Aunt Ava offered financial assistance, but Rose refused. She was determined to rebuild her life on her own merits. Recognizing her strong network within the city, Rose decided to reinvent herself. Inspired by her newfound fitness regime, she became a gym trainer.
Rose's dedication paid off. Her muscular physique and confident demeanor attracted clients. She began offering personalized training to wealthy women. However, her lack of formal education showed in her communication style. Despite her success, she lacked the finesse required for her new client.
Despite her days and nights spent at the gym, Rose's dedication extended beyond herself. She recognized Namitha's phenomenal dancing ability and encouraged her to pursue it professionally. Within six months, Namitha became a sought-after makeup artist and dancer.
One evening, returning home from work, Rose questioned Namitha, "Are you enjoying this city life, or did I drag you into something bad?"
"Dark? Are you kidding me?" Namitha exclaimed. "This is everything I ever wanted!"
Namitha, with her sharp features and model-like figure, harbored a secret dream of becoming an actress. Now, with newfound confidence and a flourishing dance career, she saw this path as a stepping stone to her ultimate goal.
Rose's journey to the city was not just about her own transformation. It became a catalyst for her sisters' aspirations, paving the way for a brighter future for them all.
Despite the glitz and glamor of her modeling gigs, Rose's fingers still itched for the feel of engine oil. The gym, once a symbol of her reinvention, now felt like a gilded cage. The high life was draining, but necessary until she could stand on her own two feet financially.
Years of reckless living had eroded her patience, but Rose had painstakingly rebuilt it, brick by brick. Now, she could face down trolls and manage her anger. This newfound control fueled a daring decision: she'd finish her education, not just with a certificate, but by reliving student life.
At 25, it was a radical choice. But with the new school session just five months away, Rose embarked on a rigorous plan. Extreme dieting became her norm, her meals a calculated mix of fuel for her body and nothing more. She consulted doctors, ensuring her health wasn't compromised. The results were striking. Her once tanned skin adopted a smooth, dusky tone, her body sculpted into peak fitness. She resembled a woman sculpted for a movie, every inch meticulously maintained.
The student life, however, eluded her. Rose, once a free spirit, now craved the structure and attention of a classroom. She meticulously prepped her uniform each day, yearning for a connection with her younger peers. Aunt Ava, ever the pragmatist, saw the fallacy in Rose's plan.
"School's not the answer, dear," Ava explained gently. "It's the excitement clouding your judgment." She pointed out the incongruity – a woman in her mid-twenties surrounded by teenagers. The inevitable attention from boys, the hormonal allure, could easily derail Rose's progress.
Rose, initially resistant, understood Ava's wisdom. "What then?" she asked, a flicker of despair in her eyes.
Ava smiled. "Distance learning, Rose. Finish school, then college is all yours. Unless you plan to stay in a uniform forever!"
Joy washed over Rose. She embraced Ava, relieved to have a clear path. She enrolled in distance learning, supplementing it with a local tutor for focused study. Modeling remained a side hustle, a way to keep her financially afloat.
Her days were a whirlwind of activity. Early mornings found her at the gym, a trainer sculpting others' bodies. Then came hours of focused study with the tutor. Lunch at home was a brief respite before returning to the gym, this time for her own workout and personal training sessions.
Rose's passion for learning rekindled. Her sharp mind, dulled by years of neglect, craved knowledge. Meanwhile, Suhu, the youngest, was carving her own path. Her circle of friends included wealthy boys and lavish parties. She, too, found success as a social media influencer, her captivating personality and travels drawing a large following. Brands approached her for promotions, and Suhu became a local social media sensation.
Namitha, the middle sister, chased her artistic dreams. She secured funding from a hotel owner, a man genuinely impressed by her talent. He also championed social causes, especially those focused on helping young girls. Namitha blossomed, not just as a dancer, but as a role model for aspiring artists.
Each sister, despite their different paths, shared a common thread: a relentless pursuit of attention and financial security. But beneath the surface, there was a yearning for something more. They were beautiful, intelligent women. Hard work, not fleeting validation, was the key to unlocking their true potential.
As for Rose, a new dream flickered within her. Perhaps, she thought, her studies could lead to a career that combined her love of fitness with a deeper intellectual pursuit. The future stretched before her, a canvas waiting to be painted with the vibrant colors of her newfound purpose. And this time, she wouldn't be walking the path alone. She had the unwavering support of her sisters, their bond forged in shared struggles and unwavering love.
Namitha pressed on toward her dream of success and fame. Day and night, she tirelessly pursues her goals, juggling dance, photoshoots, and small acting roles. However, despite her busy schedule, she hadn't yet broken into the world of serious acting or drama. Her naturally slim and tall physique made her a perfect fit for lingerie and bikini commercials, which she readily accepted. To manage her career, she hired Neesha, a former manager of a highly popular dancer. Recognizing Namitha's potential, Neesha took her on despite the fees likely being outside Namitha's budget. Neesha, a former model and fitness influencer herself, understood the demands of the industry and advised Namitha to relocate to a bigger city for better opportunities. However, Namitha wasn't ready to make that move just yet.
Namitha had a clear vision. She knew she could pursue acting, but for now, she was content. Dancing was her true passion. Although she never initially thought it would be her calling, once she started moving her body to the rhythm of music, it became an unstoppable force. Neesha, managing Namitha remotely via calls and emails, even hired a local manager to assist. Despite her love for her native village dialect, Namitha's lack of education and fluency in English was a weakness. Neesha suggested English classes, but Namitha's busy schedule left no room. However, the time for an upgrade had arrived. Suhu, meanwhile, had become more modern and politically connected from a young age, cultivating friendships with the children of powerful politicians.
A seasoned traveler, Suhu had already visited many foreign countries and enjoyed a lavish lifestyle. Her wealthy friends provided her access to a world of expensive luxuries. Suhu leveraged her strong connections to become a successful and expensive social media influencer, collaborating with high-end brands and securing lucrative deals.
One evening, after finishing work at Namitha's academy building, Neesha was pulling her car out of the parking lot when she spotted Suhu lounging in a nearby car with friends.
"Hey Suhu, come here!" Neesha called out.
"Just a sec, Neesha, I'm coming," Suhu replied.
"What brings you here?" Neesha asked upon Suhu's arrival.
"Nothing much, just hanging out. A few fans are at the entrance, so I'm waiting for them to clear out," Suhu explained.
Impressed by Suhu's confident attitude, Neesha complimented her, "Great work, Suhu! Living the celebrity life already, huh?"
Suhu smiled but remained silent.
"Up for something new?" Neesha inquired.
"Always," Suhu confirmed eagerly. "What's on the agenda?"
"Grab some good whiskey from the store," Neesha instructed. "I already have cigarettes, and dinner's ordered at home. My cook, Maya, is preparing it. What do you say?"
Suhu, already weary from the day, readily agreed to accompany Neesha. They had a good time during the drive to Neesha's apartment, stopping for additional drinks along the way. Arriving close to midnight, Maya opened the door. Suhu was surprised to learn that Maya wasn't just Neesha's cook but also her roommate and partner. This revelation confirmed for Suhu that Neesha was lesbian. Maya, dressed casually in a long coat, greeted Suhu warmly and welcomed her into the apartment.
Neesha, noticing Suhu's surprise, smiled and said, "Surprised?" "Not exactly unprepared," Suhu stammered, "but I wasn't expecting Maya to be so stunningly beautiful. She's even more attractive than either of us."
Maya, despite her fierce appearance with a short haircut, navel piercing, and thigh tattoo, exuded warmth and beauty. In her thirties, she was clearly devoted to Neesha. Neesha, on the other hand, possessed a more understated attractiveness. Suhu couldn't help but be curious about their dynamic.
Settling into a beanbag chair, Suhu began preparing drinks for everyone. Neesha, a cigarette dangling from her lips, offered one to Suhu. Maya arrived with a variety of appetizers, placing them next to Neesha.
With piqued interest, Suhu asked Neesha, "How did you two meet? You seem to have a strong connection."
Neesha chuckled. "We've known each other since childhood, practically family. We went to school and college together. One day, I just felt an impulse to kiss her, and she didn't pull away. It felt right for both of us. The next day, I was nervous, but Maya called me over to her dorm room. We had dinner, then drifted off to sleep as usual. Before we knew it, things escalated. We spent a passionate night together, and our bond has only grown stronger since then."
Suhu, at a young age, felt a surge of excitement that Maya noticed. They were having a fun night, dancing and enjoying themselves. Neesha, surprised by Suhu's high energy, asked, "Are you okay? You've already had five drinks!"
Neesha was happy, but worried about Rose's reaction if anything happened to Suhu. Suhu, however, was just getting started and thoroughly enjoying the night with Maya and Neesha. Maya, sensing Suhu's enthusiasm, suggested taking the fun "to the next level,"
Suhu, feeling a thrill course through her, looked at Maya. "So," she began, a playful glint in her eyes, "are you up for something a little more...daring?"
Maya, sensing Suhu's boldness, grinned. "Always. What did you have in mind?"
Suhu pondered for a moment, the alcohol warming her but not clouding her judgment. "There's this abandoned amusement park down the street... I've always wanted to explore it at night."
Neesha, ever cautious, piped in, "An abandoned amusement park? Are you sure that's safe?"
Suhu, with newfound confidence, met Neesha's gaze. "Maybe not safe, but definitely adventurous. Up for it, Neesh?"
They ditched the plan as Maya decided to call her friend Julie.
Maya, sensing Suhu's excitement, decided to call her friend Julie to join the fun. Half an hour later, Julie arrived at the apartment, and introductions were made.
Suhu, feeling the effects of the alcohol, threw herself into the music, dancing with uninhibited joy. Her movements were energetic and free, a reflection of the good time she was having.
Julie, a woman in her 30s, is the life of the party. With a curvaceous figure – broad shoulders, thick thighs, a surprisingly slim midriff, and a generously endowed chest – she's a walking paradox of genetic enhancement. Despite being a self-proclaimed "failure" in life, thanks to her wealthy doctor parents, she's a free spirit with a hefty trust fund. Expensive tastes and an unwavering belief in her own judgment are her trademarks.
Medical school has been Julie's playground for the past seven years. While not the sharpest tool in the shed, she's sailed by on the tide of privilege. Throughout her life, she's taken everything for granted. Being an only child has spoiled her rotten, and her parents' sole ambition is to see "Dr." before her name, paving the way for a marriage into another wealthy medical family.
Julie is no fool. She knows her luxurious life is guaranteed, diploma or not. So, travel, parties, whirlwind romances – these are her priorities. Her disregard for responsibility comes at a cost. Take, for instance, the eve of a major exam. When a boyfriend beckons with promises of a night of revelry, Julie ditches her studies without a second thought. Scaling the walls of her dorm, she throws caution to the wind, only to wake up the next day, hungover and blissfully unaware of the missed exam.
Stuck in a perpetual state of adolescence, 30-year-old Julie yearns for the carefree days of her youth. She surrounds herself with teenagers, viewing them as playthings rather than peers. Suhu, her latest conquest, serves only as another adventure buddy. Fueling her extravagant lifestyle, Julie uses her bold personality to cultivate a network of fleeting relationships. Five phones, each containing a number readily shared in public, are her tools of the trade. She thrives on constant attention, a chaotic existence filled with unreliable people and uncertain outcomes. The night ended in a drunken haze for Suhu and her new friend, Julie. Suhu added another party animal to her circle, and they exchanged numbers after a night of gossip. In the morning, Suhu booked a cab and headed to a luxurious hotel for a pre-arranged lunch with her friends, including Avni.
Avni, Suhu's best friend, was Suhu's opposite in appearance. Dark-skinned and with a fuller figure, Avni came from immense wealth. Spoiled by her doting father, Avni indulged in drugs and multiple affairs. Insecure about her looks, she wore revealing clothes to attract attention, constantly adjusting them in public. Despite the outward differences, their friendship was strong. Avni worshiped Suhu for her beauty, even though Suhu herself had darker skin. Suhu, in turn, appreciated Avni's social media savvy and connections, built on her father's real estate business. Avni served as Suhu's manager, handling public relations and events.
"Where were you last night?" Avni asked.
Suhu, mid-bite of a burger, lied, "Just hanging out with Neesha, you know, my sister's annoying manager."
"That alcoholic?" Avni chuckled.
Suhu's phone buzzed with a message from Julie: "Already missing me, my brown bitch?" A thrill shot through Suhu, but she decided to keep her new conquest a secret for now.
After lunch, Suhu tasked Avni with finding her an outfit for an upcoming event. Avni then reminded her about a pub meeting that night, where they'd get drunk and discuss projects. Suhu simply nodded, already lost in texts with Julie.
The thrill of Julie's message lingered with Suhu as she decided to keep their encounter a secret. After lunch, she tasked Avni with finding an outfit for an upcoming event. Avni also reminded Suhu about a pub meeting that evening where they'd discuss upcoming projects. Suhu barely acknowledged her, preoccupied with texting Julie.
Julie, a seasoned flirt, was exactly Suhu's type. Despite a ten-year age gap, they shared a love for the fast life. Suhu excitedly told Julie about the pub meeting, eager to showcase her "diva look." Without hesitation, she invited Julie to join them.
By 10 pm, the trendy club was buzzing with young influencers, including Suhu, a top-five influencer in the city. Avni picked Suhu up from a cafe where she'd been meeting friends.
"Come on, star," Avni said, holding up a dress. "It's already 8 pm. Get ready!"
Suhu hopped in the back seat.
"Why are you back there? Come sit in front," Avni instructed.
"I need to change. My manager's smarter than you think," Suhu teased. "Get in the front, we're going somewhere else," Avni replied with a playful attitude.
"Oh, so my manager's learning her job, huh?" Suhu smirked.
Avni chuckled. Suhu then resumed texting Julie, inviting her to join them. Suhu admired Julie's confident, diva-like aura.
Meanwhile, Julie was taking a bath at her boyfriend's place. She had keys to various apartments from past relationships, allowing her to come and go as she pleased. Emerging from the bath, she chose a stunning outfit – a long, form-fitting gown with narrow straps and a daring backless design. This time, she opted for elegance over revealing clothing.
Suhu, meanwhile, arrived at the makeup studio where Avni had arranged for her hair and makeup to be done. Suhu seemed happy with the results this time. Avni, however, had a different outfit in mind – a pair of jean shorts and a black, backless tank top that accentuated her cleavage. This was Suhu's signature style – revealing clothing that showcased her figure. While Suhu wasn't opposed to the outfit, she had been hoping for something classier, especially considering the presence of businessmen at the event. Avni paired the outfit with white shoes. In contrast, Avni herself opted for a professional three-piece suit, looking confident and bold.
"You might think I should have gotten you a more expensive, long dress for a mature look," Avni explained. "But trust me, I know what I'm doing."
"Never doubt your sister!" Suhu replied.
Avni was a pro when it came to public appearances and professional work. She understood the audience and knew how to grab attention. Suhu's popularity owed a significant debt to Avni's strategic planning.
Julie called Suhu to confirm the meeting time. Suhu, instead, asked for Julie's location and offered to pick her up in an hour. Avni, overhearing the conversation, inquired about the caller. Suhu filled her in, and Avni saw an opportunity. She booked a separate cab and suggested they arrive together, causing Suhu to blush.
"Why the blush?" Avni teased. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Stop it!" Suhu protested. "She's not my girlfriend. Why would I want to make an entrance with her?"
Avni, however, knew Suhu better than Suhu knew herself. Her plan was already in motion.
Suhu arrived at Julie's place, speechless at her beauty and confident aura. Suhu couldn't help but smile as Julie approached with the grace of a professional model. They waited for the cab, both excited for the evening. Julie even offered Suhu some tips on making an unforgettable entrance.
Year - 2028
Rose stood beneath the neon glow of a downtown gym billboard featuring her own face, clad in a sleek fitness outfit, holding a dumbbell and grinning like she had the world at her feet. But the truth couldn't have been more different. That billboard was from two years ago. Her body had changed, her skin slightly duller, her posture less confident. What hadn't changed was her hunger—for attention, for validation, for something that would make her feel alive again.
Though she had climbed back into moderate fame as a fitness influencer and coach, the rise of newer, younger, and sharper influencers had begun to eat into her clientele. At 37, the industry no longer worshipped her—it merely tolerated her. She masked her growing irrelevance with layers of makeup and endless reels that rarely broke 5,000 views. Deep inside, she felt the fame slipping through her fingers.
Neesha had moved to Mumbai. Suhu had become a party mascot—attending every high-profile gathering but growing increasingly hollow in her videos. Namita was still in the city but barely spoke anymore.
Rose's old friend Arpita visited one evening and brought a bottle of red wine, laughing about their wild old nights. That night, they popped the cork. That night, Rose relapsed.
"Only this once," she whispered, tipping the glass toward her mouth.
But 'once' became 'every weekend.' Then every night.
To cover expenses and maintain her lifestyle, Rose secretly began accepting offers to do premium adult video content under an alias. Her performances were raw and bold, and they gained traction. She told herself it was just business, just art. But it consumed her. She stopped going to the gym. Stopped messaging clients.
Her phone buzzed constantly—not with client bookings, but with anonymous DMs offering her money, control, and degradation.
And she answered them.
Namita, meanwhile, had started dating a powerful politician's assistant, Rohan. He promised her an acting role and expensive gifts. For a while, life was perfect—fancy parties, weekend getaways, even whispers of casting calls. But soon the truth revealed itself. She was never going to be cast. She was just another secret.
Rohan ghosted her. Then sent a driver to pick up her belongings.
Heartbroken and with rent due, Namita spiraled into food. Her trim body softened, her cheeks puffed, and her clothes no longer fit. Her dance classes dried up. Her manager dropped her. Brands started rejecting her for being "unfit for the brand image."
Desperate for money, she began dating a wealthy 61-year-old builder who paid her bills in exchange for companionship. Her laughter dulled. Her confidence vanished.
She never danced again.
Suhu's Instagram fame crashed after an anonymous account leaked party footage of her with foreign businessmen, drugs on the table, and topless photos. She lost her brand deals within a week.
To survive, she took up work as a bar dancer—fancy on the surface, filthy underneath. Her friends disappeared. Julie moved abroad. Avni entered rehab. Suhu stopped smiling in selfies.
"All I wanted was to feel seen," she once told a fellow dancer. "Now I just feel used."
2029
Rose's house was no longer filled with plants or gym gear. It was dark, the curtains always drawn, the kitchen piled with unwashed dishes. Porn DVDs, empty wine bottles, and unopened bills littered the floor.
Her days had no structure. She woke at 2 PM, shot short explicit videos by 4 PM, drank until 2 AM, passed out, and repeated. She had money, but barely. Each client paid less than the last. And her body no longer looked like a fitness goddess.
She couldn't stop watching porn either. It was no longer business—it was addiction. She watched for hours, sometimes till dawn, detached from her reality. Her phone buzzed constantly with male voices, most offering control over her in exchange for money.
She stopped resisting.
Ava had passed away in 2027. A quiet death in her sleep. Rose missed the funeral—too drunk to board the train.
Namita stopped picking up calls. Suhu's number was unreachable.
One night, a fan recognized Rose on the street.
"Weren't you that bike mechanic girl? That fitness queen?"
Rose laughed.
"I still am," she lied.
But her eyes were red. Her lips cracked. She smelled like vodka.
That night, she drank an entire bottle of wine, cried for two hours, then made a live video that Instagram took down within minutes.
No one called.
No one cared.
Rose turned 40 in silence.
No cake. No candles. No phone calls.
She hadn't posted anything for three months. Her house looked like an abandoned set. All the lights were out except one in the bathroom.
She spent the evening writing. On the last page of her diary, she wrote:
"I had no illness. No tragedy. No accident. I had addiction. A beautiful one. A loud one. A sexy, destructive, glorious one.
And now it's silent.
I loved attention more than I loved myself.
And now I disappear in the most invisible way.
Goodbye."
She took two bottles of wine. One strip of sleeping pills. And her red lipstick.
Painted her lips one last time.
Laid on the bed in a cheap hotel she had rented anonymously.
And let go.
The news barely covered it. "Former fitness influencer found dead in hotel."
No funeral.
Namita, now obese and stuck in a gold-plated cage with her rich old husband, cried quietly at the news. But didn't leave. She had nowhere else to go.
Suhu, working at a dark, smoky bar, heard about it through a customer. She didn't cry. She just ordered a double shot and danced the night like nothing happened.
The garage stayed closed.
A mechanic who once worked there placed a sign on the shutter:
"Here once worked a queen who fell from grace. R.I.P. Rose."
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