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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...