Novels by Ash

SHAYLA'S P.O.VTwo years later…I got into my car, finally catching a break since the morning from when I first stepped foot into my office — and I heaved a sigh. My designated driver drove me to our destination — the Sengupta-Taylor residence, which was so devoid of grandeur and striking quality from the outside that never in your wildest dreams would you even think that one of the biggest pop stars of this decade was staying happily in that house as a house-husband.Cameron's third album, Will There Ever Be A Tomorrow? sold one point five million units in the first week, breaking and surpassing all records. The album is still on the top 100 billboards chart, two years later, and was a critically acclaimed album that swept up nine grammys and tons of the other awards. Cameron was named as the artist of the year, and had broken the record of getting the most awards internationally for a single album in a year. To say that I was proud of him was an understatement. I gestured to the dri

SHAYLA'S P.O.VI gained consciousness after a whole day, they said. And counting today, I had been here for three days now.The doctors tried to figure out what exactly had gone wrong with me to lose my consciousness for twenty four hours — but they found nothing wrong. I had plenty of abrasions on my skin because of the windshield glass piercing my skin, I had muscle and tissue wounds due to the seat belt digging into my skin, and I apparently had gotten a blow to the head as well — resulting in a concussion and some kinda… serious blood loss. I had a broken ankle, hairline fractures on my arm — but everything else was good. I had just given the doctors, my family, and everyone a good scare — because getting a trauma to the head and then slipping into a state of unconsciousness for over twenty four hours was apparently not the most assuring combination. But it was all okay — because my baby was safe.With my free hand, I scrolled through the multiple unanswered emails on my phone, t

CAMERON'S P.O.VIt was the paparazzi. I knew it now. The paparazzi was the reason we got into the accident.Our driver, Dame, who was highly injured but was still the one to get back consciousness faster than Shayla had, was making me worried. Shayla was still unconscious — and in the operation theater, the seatbelt had dug into her skin so deep that we had to pull her from the car with the seat belt attached, as in, we had to essentially tear the seat belt from the car. There was a huge gash on her forehead that was oozing blood when I carried her out of the car, but apparently the doctors had found a huge blow on her head too. It must have smashed into the ceiling, they said when they were reeling her in. I cried. What else could I do? I got out with a broken arm, multiple non-fatal gashes. I was in a private room, staring out the window — wondering why Shayla hadn't woken up yet when Dame had.When he had woken up, the first that Dame had said was paparazzi. "They are the cause of

SHAYLA'S P.O.VIt was our last night here in the Philippines. It had officially been two weeks since we had enjoyed the green foliage and the blue waters that this heavenly place had to offer, and no matter how many times I was seeing the exact same scene — something new always seemed to appear that made the place even more beautiful. Two little undiscovered juts of rocks on the western point of the island. Thousands and thousands of seashells buried in the sand on the eastern tip. This place always had something new to offer."My, I am going to miss this place terribly," I said as Cameron and I took in the serenity of this place for one last time in a long period of time, our bare feet stretched out in front of us, as we sat under the shade of a palm tree, our backs against the thick trunk, as the slivers of moonlight escaped in through the blades of the leaves. I sighed happily as I rested my head on Cameron's shoulder, quietly listening to the waves breaking against the sand and th

SHAYLA'S P.O.VThis place was awfully romantic. And if I hadn't been here with my hand in Cameron's, I'd have found this place beautiful, but disgusting, because there was just something in the air here that made you want to be here with the love of your life.Thank God I was married.Cameron and I walked on the two-kilometre trail that circled the island. Every nook and corner of this little private island had absolutely mind-blowing scenery. Warm seawater doused our sandal clad feet as we walked along the sea-shore, our feet digging into the muddy sand further with each step. Good God. If someone had told me that God had specifically hired an architect to design this heavenly place, I'd have believed them in a heartbeat. "I am hungry," Cameron said, breaking the silence as he tugged at my hand. "Do you wanna go have dinner?"I turned my head to look at the horizon, and the sun was about to set. I turned back to Cameron, nodding. "Let's go the room first. Let's change into better cl

CAMERON'S P.O.VWaking up everyday next to Shayla was like waking up to a dream. But you know what was like a nightmare? Sitting in a seaplane, which was about to take off and fly over miles and miles of never ending waters. "Okay, this is very very scary," I said as I fumbled with the family seat belt, trying to tie it around me properly. Shayla and I were finally on our honeymoon — to the Philippines — and we couldn't wait to catch this break after the enormity of the reception. But thankfully even though there were like over three hundred people invited to the reception, all of us had made it out alive."Do not worry so much, Cam," Shayla said, leaning towards me and placing a hand on my knee. "You've been on a plane hundreds of times.""It's never not scary," I chided. Shay and I were sat next to each other in the compact four-seater El Carpal seaplane — because our room was a luxurious one at the El Carpal Pengalusian Island. Shay informed me that her company had brought this co