CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 38: THE ACHE I COULDN’T HIDE WITH ZAYN

I watched every second, every movement, until the girl’s car drove out of sight. My chest felt tight, a slow burn rising from somewhere deep and uncertain.

Earlier, I had asked my driver to stop by Zayn’s restaurant. I thought maybe he was working overtime, maybe too busy to pick up his phone. But when I got there, one of his staff members looked at me with confusion and said, "He didn’t come in at all today."

Seeing him with that girl stirred questions in my mind, questions I didn’t want to ask, questions I didn’t want to believe. I stepped forward, walked to his door, and knocked.

It didn’t take long before he opened it. His expression flickered with surprise.

"Evric..." he said quietly, as if unsure whether to smile or question my presence.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

He moved aside, letting me in without hesitation. I stepped in, heart tight in my chest.

I asked casually, "Your friend... is he home?"

Zayn shook his head. "No, he’s not around today."

I didn’t press further.

When he asked how my day had been, I smiled faintly and said, "Hectic. But seeing you now... it’s enough."

I reached out, trying to wrap my arms around his waist, craving his warmth. But he lifted a hand, stopping me gently.

"I just want to change out of this shirt first," he said quickly.

I chuckled, brushing it off. "This one? What happened to it?"

He didn’t answer, just stepped away, keeping a small space between us. But I eventually moved toward him again and pulled him close, arms locked around his waist.

And that’s when it hit me.

The scent on him, sweet, thick, unmistakable, wasn’t his.

It was her. A heavy, floral perfume, like he’d been drenched in it. Like he didn’t just hug her... but buried himself in her.

My heart dropped.

Still, I said nothing. I didn’t want to judge too quickly. I didn’t want to accuse. I forced a smile and whispered against his chest, "I called you all day today. You didn’t pick up. Why?"

"I was busy," he answered casually, avoiding my eyes.

I hugged him tighter, hoping he’d feel how real this was for me.

"I miss my man," I whispered. "I’m not going back tonight. I’ll sleep here."

He nodded. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head. "Not hungry."

He pulled back slightly. "Give me a minute. I want to arrange the room."

I laughed softly, trying to tease. "Your room is always arranged. Why rearrange it now?"

He didn’t respond. Just turned away with a quiet, "Give me a minute," and rushed down the hallway.

I stood there, unmoving, feeling the weight of something I couldn’t name settle deep inside my chest.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

No. Not here. Not now.

If I find out he slept with that girl... after everything.

After I just turned Nicki down for him, after choosing him over someone who’s wanted me for years...

My chest tightened.

It wasn’t just jealousy. It was betrayal, the kind that digs under your skin and twists like a blade.

He doesn’t even know what I gave up for him.

I walked quietly toward his room, peering inside.

He was stripping his sheets.

He worked quickly, almost nervously, like he didn’t want me to see. Then he undressed, headed into the bathroom. Usually, he’d invite me in with a smirk or some playful line, but not tonight.

No invitation. Just silence.

After he finished, I took a quick shower too. I didn’t want to say anything that might lead to an argument. I just wanted... something honest. Something that still felt like us.

Now, we lay in his bed.

But not together.

He’d turned to the far side, his back to me. A gap of silence sat between us.

I moved gently, closing the distance, and wrapped an arm around him from behind. Then I pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

My lips brushing his ear as I whispered, "I missed you all day."

He didn’t say anything, he just lay there, quiet. Silent in a way that made my chest ache.

I wanted to ask. I needed to.

That girl.

Who was she?

But I couldn’t find the words. Every opening in my head felt wrong, forced. So instead, I lay there, searching for something, anything, that would lead me into it without sounding jealous or insecure.

"You know what, Zayn..."

He stayed, calm. Waiting.

"I’ve never had sex with a girl before."

The words felt like they dropped from nowhere, out of place and clumsy, but he didn’t flinch. No teasing. No judgment.

He chuckled. "For real?"

I nodded against his back. "Yeah."

He turned to face me slightly, his expression unreadable. "Do you want to try it?"

I shook my head slowly. "No... I don’t need to know. But between us, sex with boys or girls... which one do you actually enjoy more?"

He stared at me, his eyes calm but distant.

"Sex is sex, you know."

I forced a small laugh, trying to keep it light. "So... you don’t enjoy having sex with me more than with girls you’ve been with?"

He said nothing.

I looked at him. I knew I couldn’t be angry, he wasn’t mine, not officially. But the ache of seeing him with someone else, of imagining what they’d done, made it hard to breathe.

His eyes slowly closed, as if he were done with the night. As if nothing else needed to be said.

I lay there watching him, feeling the heat Nicki had left burning inside me. I’d fought so hard to resist it. I’d saved it, for him.

I leaned in and kissed him, softly, hopefully.

But he gently pulled away.

"I’m tired," he murmured, turning his back to me once more.

And that was it.

I lay in silence beside him, holding my pain like a secret I wasn’t allowed to share.

I was hard and in pain. Sleep felt impossible.

Every breath I took only reminded me of him. My body was on fire, aching for release. I tossed and turned, but the sheets felt suffocating. Finally, I gave up and left the room.

I dropped onto the couch in the living room, lying on my back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. I thought putting some distance between me and the scent of Zayn would help, but it didn’t. I was still painfully hard.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to will myself to sleep. Maybe if I ignored it long enough, the tension would pass.

But then, I felt a hand on my body.

My eyes flew open.

Zayn.

He knelt beside me, his gaze steady, voice low and unreadable.

"Why are you out here?" he asked.

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I couldn’t sleep. But I’m fine."

He didn’t move. Just stared for a moment, like he was searching for something in my face.

Then, softly, he said, "Why didn’t you just ask me... instead of torturing yourself with all those assumptions?"

I blinked, pretending not to know what he meant. "Ask about what?"

He let out a soft sigh. "The girl you saw with me."