I promise to write shorter next time

He walked at a brisk pace in the evening glow, head down, keen to shut out the news. It was everywhere: newspaper headlines, social media, text messages, the vicious gossip of strangers as he stood in the crowded bus. Did you hear about it? Vanished, just like that! Pity, I've always been a huge fan. Maybe she committed suicide. Depression, who knows. Does she do drugs? 

And these people call themselves her fan, ever ready to spew toxic allegations instead of panicked concern at their idol's disappearance. She talked about it before, with him, when he raised his fears about her potential fame. She laughed at the prospect of what she dubbed "celebrity immorality" and dismissed it. 'Besides, I don't think I'll ever be that famous.' 'I think you would.' 'Even if I did,' she said, touching his cheek gently, 'I won't let it change anything.' He closed his eyes. They don't know her, he thought to himself.

Maybe she ran off to meet her rich businessman lover. She has a rich businessman lover? Well, don't they all? 

But does he know her any better? He looked ahead, stoic; his mind was a storm. He knew he was no longer welcome in her life - that much she made clear by her distance all this while. Cut him off so abruptly and changed her number, just like in the song he was currently practising. He so badly wished that she asked him to wait - of course he would - or said hi once in a while, or at least a proper goodbye. But no, the last thing he heard from her was but a hurried text: Can't talk now. See you when I see you. XO 

Probably a hint that she wanted him out of her life.

It's just a ploy to attract attention and boost sales. How else would she hit the headlines? See, it's working. 

"Shut up!" he yelled at no one in particular as the bus approached the stop, and stepped off before they could start gossiping about him too. Move on, start over, stop caring: that was all he had to do.

It was at that moment that his phone rang. An unknown number.