CHAPTER 275: CHAPTER 275: BOUND BY BLOOD AND CHOICE

~Zayn’s POV~

I met her challenging gaze head-on. "But I will not, under any circumstances, be getting back with you. I need you to understand that, Meera."

She stared at me, her face pale, the spoonful of oatmeal forgotten. "What did you just say?"

"Meera, I love Evric," I stated clearly, the words releasing times of fear and confusion. "I can’t imagine my life without him by my side. I am not denying my child if the DNA confirms I am the father, but I am not getting back with you. That Chapter of my life is over."

That was it. The dam broke. She shot up from the chair, the sound of the metal scraping the floor echoing in the sudden silence.

"You shameless piece of garbage!" she screamed, her voice shaking with outrage, spitting the words like venom. "After everything I’ve done for you? After keeping your child? You choose that gay life over your own family? You choose a man over your own blood? How dare you! You are disgusting, Zayn! Shameless! You are going to abandon your son for some pathetic, temporary phase? You are a joke!"

She kept going, listing every insecurity, every fear, and every hateful homophobic cliché she could summon. The more she talked, the more I felt the last of my patience snap. The need to be nice, to be understanding—it vanished. This wasn’t pain; this was hatred.

I slammed my fist onto the table, the plates rattling violently, instantly silencing her.

"MEERA! ENOUGH!" I roared, the sound vibrating in the room. I stood up, looming over her, my breathing shallow and fast. I pointed a shaking finger at her.

"One more word about my life, my sexuality, or the man I love, and I swear to you, you will regret every single thing you have ever said to me. You are talking about my son, and I am talking about being his father. But you are trying to break me. Don’t push me any further. I will not tolerate this disrespect in my own home."

The sheer, raw anger in my voice stunned her into silence. Her mouth snapped shut, her wide eyes finally registering the danger in my expression. The nice, guilt-ridden Zayn was gone.

"I said I want my son, not you, Meera," I repeated, my voice low, controlled, and infinitely colder than my previous shout. "I will be responsible for my child, but I do not need us to come back together as a family."

I didn’t raise my voice again, instead, I spoke with chilling clarity, analyzing the situation for her benefit. "I am telling you that I am prepared to step up as a father. I am prepared to support a child financially, emotionally, and physically if he’s mine. What part of that commitment do you not understand? The only part I am refusing is you. I don’t want a life with you. I don’t want a relationship with you. I want a future with Evric, and I will be a father to my son. I refuse to combine those two things simply because you demand it."

Meera recovered, her face contorting into pure venom. She roared back, abandoning all pretense of being sick or rational. "How does sleeping with a man satisfy you, Zayn? How is that romantic or sexy to you? It’s unnatural!" She continued, her voice dripping with malice, trying to shame and disgust me. "There is nothing intimate or fulfilling you will ever enjoy with Evric that I couldn’t give you. I’m your best choice! We should become a family again, not live this pathetic gay fantasy!"

"No!" I shouted, the word cutting through her hysterical attack. "I don’t want a life with you! I want a life with Evric, and I will care for my son with him by my side!"

She took a step toward me, opening her mouth to hurl another searing insult, but I cut her off, my last shred of control snapping.

"Last warning, Meera. Hold your lips together. Now keep quiet."

My intensity was too much. The threat wasn’t physical, but it was absolute, the threat of me cutting her off completely. Meera’s voice hitched. She clamped her hand over her mouth, muffling a choked sound, and slowly sank to the floor, collapsing into a heap of pathetic, silent sobs.

I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t afford to. I stood over her, feeling nothing but cold resolve. "Provide me the child for the DNA test this afternoon, or I will proceed with legal action. I am done talking."

I turned away from her sobbing figure, walked into the bedroom, quickly dressed in a professional shirt and slacks, grabbed my keys, and left the house. I didn’t look back. The noise, the drama, and the manipulation were all behind me. Now, the only thing that mattered was securing the truth.

The race for the DNA test was officially on.

Throughout the day, Meera did not call me. She didn’t text, she didn’t apologize, and she certainly didn’t provide any means to acquire a sample or meet my son. She was playing hardball, using silence as her latest weapon.

I got back home after sunset, exhausted and morally drained. The house was quiet, but as soon as I entered the living room, I saw Meera. She hadn’t bothered to greet me. She was sprawled on the couch, eating snacks directly from a bag and watching a noisy reality show on the television, acting completely indifferent, as if our explosive confrontation that morning had never happened.

I ignored her, heading straight for my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.

Before I could even close the closet door, the doorbell rang.

I heard Meera rise from the couch. By the time I returned to the sitting room, she was already standing by the front door, preparing to receive the package. A man in a delivery uniform stood there, holding a rectangular box and a generous bouquet of white lilies.

Meera reached out to take the items, assuming they were for her. "Wait!" I shouted, sprinting across the floor.

I intercepted the package just as she grasped the edge of the box. I gave the delivery man a quick, tired smile, signed the electronic pad, and the man left, thankfully avoiding the sudden domestic tension.

I took the bouquet first. The lilies were beautiful, a stark contrast to the ugliness of the room. I carefully pulled out the small card tucked among the stems. I read the single, familiar handwriting:

See you tomorrow. Love you. E.

A warmth spread through my chest, an automatic, unguarded relief. I couldn’t help it, a small, genuine smile touched my lips, a beacon of hope piercing the darkness Meera had imposed.

That smile was all she needed.

Meera mocked, her voice laced with venom, mimicking my soft expression. She made a sound of disgust. "It shows who the bottom is, doesn’t it?"

The words were calculated, homophobic, and designed to hit the absolute core of my identity. She continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "I can’t imagine a man who was once bending me over the kitchen counter is now bending for another man. Pathetic."

The breath left my body. My smile vanished, replaced by an icy fury far worse than the anger this morning.

"What did you just say now?"