20. Baby On Board but Husband AWOL
20
BABY ON BOARD BUT HUSBAND AWOL
Update: Rumour has it Kaan was seen stumbling and slurring his words at the Manilla after-party, a far cry from the polished rock god we know and love. And with his wife, Miz Meg Martin, now AWOL, tongues are wagging, and people are speculating that he may have fallen off the wagon.
We all remember those dark days when Kaan hit rock bottom—partying till dawn, burning bridges, and making headlines for all the wrong reasons. His wild antics were the stuff of tabloid legend, from trashed hotel rooms to that infamous drunken brawl on live TV with lead singer of now defunct band, Seven of Crows, Gabe Rushley, that had everyone wondering if he’d ever get his act together. It took a near-miracle for him to claw his way back, and when he did, we all cheered for the comeback of the century. His journey to sobriety was nothing short of heroic, making this latest development all the more heartbreaking.
Is history repeating itself, or is there more to this story than meets the eye? Could the pressures of fame, the demands of a rock star lifestyle, or perhaps some behind-the-scenes drama be pushing him back to the edge?
I'm Pippa Ellis, and this is Fame and No-Sense—where the gossip is as hot as your morning coffee!
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I flop onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress, and let out a dramatic moan. “I’m broken.”
Ginny chuckles, setting my bag down gently on the ornate wooden chest at the foot of the bed. “You’re exhausted.”
I nod, my eyes already half-closed. “I am exhausted.”
Ginny walks over to the small window and draws the curtains shut, blocking out the light and muffling the distant sounds of Istanbul’s bustling streets. “It’s been a rough couple of days,” she says softly, turning back to look at me. “But you’re here now. You can rest.”
The room is a perfect blend of comfort and tradition. The bed, draped in a quilt with intricate patterns, feels like a sanctuary. I notice a small table with a delicate vase of fresh flowers, adding a touch of elegance to the room.
“Why don’t you take a bubble bath? There’s a lovely deep tub in the bathroom. It might help you unwind.”
I smile at the suggestion. “That sounds like heaven.”
Ginny stands up and heads towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, I’m just a call away.”
I run a bath, the steam rising and filling the room with warmth. As I sink into the bubbles, I feel the tension begin to melt away. The events of the past few days seem distant now, replaced by the comforting embrace of the bath. I close my eyes, letting the water soothe my tired body.
After a while, I reluctantly leave the bath and dry off with a fluffy towel. I slip into a soft robe provided by the hotel. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my baby bump, proudly on display. Thoughts about names swirl through my mind, and I can’t help but smile at Kaan’s idea to name the baby after him.
Kaan Junior?
I chuckle softly to myself, dismissing the idea with a shake of my head. I gently rub my tummy, feeling a connection to the tiny life growing within me. “You can be Peanut for now,” I declare with a grin. “Hi there, Peanut.”
As I ponder the absurdity of calling my child Kaan Junior, I can’t help but imagine the poor kid’s future.
What if he turns out to be shy? The image of a timid little boy with Kaan’s bronze eyes, hiding behind my legs and clutching at my skirt during social gatherings, tugs at my heartstrings. Shyness is not necessarily a bad thing, but the idea of him shrinking away from the spotlight that his father so naturally commands is both endearing and worrisome.
Or, God forbid, what if he becomes a rockstar like his dad? A tiny version of Kaan, with tousled hair and an impish grin, strutting around with a miniature guitar slung over his shoulder. He’d have that same magnetic presence, that undeniable charm that makes people stop and take notice. The thought is both hilarious and terrifying.
But with talent comes the burden of expectation. Would he feel pressured to live up to his father’s legacy? Would the weight of Kaan’s fame cast a shadow over his own dreams and aspirations? The thought sobers me. I want our child to have the freedom to choose his own path, to be whoever he wants to be, without the looming spectre of comparison.
As I sit there, lost in my musings, I continue to rub my belly, feeling a surge of love and protectiveness. “Don’t worry, Peanut,” I whisper. “We’ll figure everything out. For now, just keep growing in there, and I’ll keep you safe.”
The last few months have been a whirlwind. Between Kaan's never-ending tour—seriously, is he trying to visit every city on the planet?—and my book deadlines, we’ve barely had a moment to breathe.
My next book, ‘Catching Feelings’, is due to be released in June. It’s a rom-com about a forty-something woman who falls in love with the twenty-something guy who delivers her groceries—and no, it’s not based on a true story, no matter how many times Kaan jokes about my favourite delivery guy looking suspiciously like a Greek god.
But Peanut is also due to be released in June. Talk about a double whammy. So, while everyone else is planning summer vacations, I’ll be juggling book tours and baby bottles, hoping I don’t mix up the two. I can already see it—standing at a book signing with a baby on my boob and a Sharpie in my hand, trying to remember if I’m supposed to be autographing the book or burping the baby.
I sink into the softness of the mattress and let out a frustrated sigh. The events of the past few days have clearly taken a toll on me, I’m talking absolute twaddle. The long flight, the emotional turmoil with Kaan, and the morning sickness have left me drained.
I must have dozed off because a soft knock on the door awakens me. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I groggily open the door to find my husband standing there, concern etched on his face.
Despite the long flight and what is likely a hangover that would kill a lesser man, he still looks good, but then again, he always does.
There’s an undeniable beauty about my husband, a raw magnetism that has captivated fans around the world. His deep-set bronze eyes, hold a thousand unspoken thoughts, and his full lips, usually curved into a charming smile, are now pressed into a thin line, revealing the inner turmoil he’s been trying to hide. He shaved his head again last month, a bold move that only accentuates his striking features—the sharp angles of his jaw, the strong line of his brow, and the smooth, almost regal curve of his skull. The change has made him look more gorgeous, a fact that hasn’t escaped his legions of admirers, though right now, his beauty feels like a sharp contrast to the storm brewing behind those eyes.
“Kaan,” I murmur, my voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?”