CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 64: A DISTANCE BETWEEN US

Evric’s POV

I dropped Zayn off at his restaurant, and the entire ride he refused to meet my eyes. His silence pressed down heavier than words ever could, and a quiet fear gnawed at me. I hated it, this not knowing, this wall between us.

When we pulled up, he only said he’d chat with me later and drop by before my driver finally pulled away. That was it. No smile. No warmth. Just distance.

All day, I tried to bridge the gap. I sent message after message, asking if he was okay, trying to lighten the mood with small jokes, anything that might draw him out. He answered, but only with short replies.

Yes.

I’m fine.

Later.

Each one felt like a door closing in my face.

When I asked if he had spoken to his friend, he said no. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, that he had a flight that night for business. He promised they would talk after he came back. He swore he hadn’t told anyone, and wouldn’t, until Zayn was ready. But I couldn’t ignore the thought that because of me, he was caught in this storm. Because of me, he was hurting.

That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment between us. His silence, his distance, the way his eyes had been clouded with something I couldn’t reach. It twisted my chest until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

By morning, I convinced myself he would have cooled down, that everything would slip back to normal between us. So I stopped by his restaurant, pretending it was casual, asking him to pack lunch for me. He agreed without hesitation, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared the food.

But the moment our eyes met, I knew I’d been lying to myself.

Zayn wasn’t the same. He wasn’t angry, at least not in a way I could name, but he wasn’t present either. It was as if he had pulled some invisible curtain between us, his smile faint, his words clipped. He did everything right, yet it felt hollow, as though part of him was far away, somewhere I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried.

And that terrified me more than anything.

When I got to work, I couldn’t focus. My mind kept circling back to him, to the way his eyes had seemed far away. Eventually, I gave in and picked up my phone.

Babe passed the night at my place, I texted.

He didn’t argue or question it, just replied: Okay. Pick me up later.

The words sat heavy on my screen. He wasn’t rejecting me, but the distance was there, plain and undeniable. I told myself I could fix it, that once we were together, I’d find a way to talk to him. But even as I rehearsed the thought, I realized I didn’t know what I wanted to say. He hadn’t given me space to ask questions, and yet every part of me still felt the gap widening between us.

Later, Vanya called to confirm that our first project travel was finalized for two weeks’ time. I noted it down, but my mind wasn’t in it.

By the end of the day, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I asked Mr. Karl to come by my office. He had been with me for years, a steady presence, older and wiser, the kind of man whose words carried weight.

I told him everything. About Zayn. About the distance. About the fear I couldn’t put into words.

He listened quietly, then leaned back in his chair, his voice calm and steady. "You need to wait for him to come around. Don’t worry yourself too much. Act normal around him. Don’t let anything change. What he’s feeling right now, it’s natural. It happens."

I stared at him, searching his face for reassurance.

He continued, "You said it yourself. He still packed your lunch. He still picks up your calls, reads your texts, and agreed to come over even though you feel distance. If he wanted to leave, he would’ve done that already. What you’re seeing now isn’t rejection, it’s him trying to find himself. Give him time, and he’ll come back to you. It might take a while, but he will."

Hearing that eased something inside me, a tight knot that had been pressing on my chest all day. Maybe Mr. Karl was right. Maybe I just needed to hold steady, to trust that Zayn wasn’t walking away, he was just trying to breathe.

By the time I wrapped up work, it was already late. I asked James to finish up a few pending tasks and left for the night. When I reached Zayn’s restaurant, I texted him. I’m here.

It didn’t take long before he stepped outside and slid into the back seat beside me. He didn’t meet my eyes, his gaze was fixed on the window instead.

"How was work?" he asked, his tone quiet, distant.

"Great," I answered quickly, forcing a smile. "Yours?"

"Fine."

That was it. Just one word.

A heaviness settled between us. I leaned closer, trying to soften the air. "Baby, not even a kiss? You know I’ve had such a stressful day."

He hesitated, then slowly turned his head. I cupped his face, urging his eyes to meet mine. He still tried to look away, but I pressed my lips to his and kissed him gently before pulling back.

When we arrived at my place, he said he wasn’t having dinner, that he was fine. Without another word, he went upstairs, mentioning he would shower before bed.

"Okay," I said quietly, watching him leave.

Nuala’s voice startled me from my thoughts. "Is everything okay? Your man seems... dull."

I forced a smile. "Everything’s fine."

But the truth was even Nuala could see it, something about Zayn was off.

After my light dinner, I finally headed upstairs. As always, Zayn had showered quickly and was already curled beneath the duvet, his back turned to me, as if sleep had claimed him too fast.

I showered as well and slipped into bed beside him. Lying there, I stared at the ceiling for a long while, my mind racing. My biggest fear clawed at me. What if he leaves me? What if this silence is the beginning of the end?

Desperation pushed me closer. I slid under the duvet and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing soft kisses along his shoulder, his neck, his back. He didn’t respond, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. He could feel me. He knew what I wanted.

I whispered against his skin, voice low and needy. "Babe... I’m horny."