CHAPTER 88: CHAPTER 88: SECRET CHOICES AND QUIET LAUGHTER

That made Zayn’s smile widen, his eyes lighting up with playful warmth.

I picked up the food and fed him one spoonful at a time, and after every bite, he leaned in to give me a kiss. That became our little game, bite, kiss, laugh. If he refused to eat, I stole a kiss from him, and he ended up smiling anyway. Slowly, he managed to eat a little, and the tension I had been carrying in my chest finally eased.

When he was done, I reached for the syrup we had collected at the hospital and carefully gave him the drops as prescribed. Once he had taken them, I let him rest for a while before gently saying, "We should leave. I am done with what I came for at the office."

Zayn nodded softly, and with that, we left my office together.

On the way home, I turned to Zayn, my eyes lingering on him as the car moved quietly through the evening streets. "Your birthday will come just a few days after I return from my business trip with Vanya," I said softly. "Is there anything you wish for? Something you would like to have, or perhaps something special you want to do?"

Zayn glanced at me, his gaze calm but unreadable. "I really do not have anything I want to do or have," he replied. His voice was gentle, yet there was a certain weight in the way he said it, as though he had already thought it through.

I studied him for a moment before asking again, "Then what kind of birthday party do you want? Do you want it big or small?"

This time he looked at me for a little longer, his lips pressing together before he finally answered. "About my birthday," he said slowly, "my friends have already chosen to organize it for me. Whether it will be big or small, I do not know. They said I only have to be present on that day, nothing more. They will take care of everything."

I gave a small nod of understanding. "Very well. Since your friends are taking over the party, then I will think about something else for you."

He tilted his head, his expression softening. "You really do not have to bother yourself," he said, almost as though he wanted to save me the trouble.

I reached out and touched his hand gently, my voice firm but tender. "For you, there is nothing like being bothered. I want to do it."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he did not argue further. The silence that followed was not uncomfortable; instead, it wrapped around us like a quiet understanding.

After our conversation, I leaned forward slightly and spoke to the driver. "Drop us at the store. I want to get something before we head home."

When the car stopped, I turned to Zayn. "Come with me," I said as I stepped out.

He hesitated, looking uneasy. "People will see us together," he whispered.

I met his eyes with calm assurance. "I will be careful with that. Do not worry."

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, and together we walked into the clothing store. The cool air inside brushed against our skin as the bright lights revealed rows of neatly arranged outfits. I guided him gently toward the men’s section.

I began picking out clothes, carefully holding them against him to imagine the fit. "Since you will be staying at my place," I explained, "it is better for you to have enough outfits for yourself."

Zayn looked at the clothes and then at me. His eyes softened, and he finally nodded. "Alright," he said quietly, accepting my choice.

I smiled faintly, satisfaction warming my chest as I continued selecting what I thought would suit him best. In that simple act, choosing clothes, preparing for his comfort, I felt a sense of peace, as if caring for him in these small ways was the most natural thing in the world.

As we walked through the store, my eyes caught on something that immediately made me smile a set of matching couple’s outfits, along with soft pajamas for two. I didn’t even think twice. I picked them up quietly and tucked them into the pile without showing Zayn. He was busy browsing the other racks, distracted and curious about things that caught his eye, and I knew him too well: if I showed him, he would only refuse, shaking his head and telling me not to buy them. So I kept it to myself. Some things are better as surprises.

Before I realized it, I had bought far more than I intended. The counter was stacked high with bags, but I didn’t mind. Watching Zayn stand there, quietly letting me spoil him, filled me with a strange kind of happiness. Doing something for him, even something as simple as clothes, made my chest feel light.

The store attendant rushed forward, smiling politely, and helped carry everything to the counter. The total was read out, but I didn’t even flinch as I slid my card across and swiped it. Behind me, my driver moved quickly, lifting the bags and carrying them out to the car.

When it was all done, I turned to Zayn. "Is there anything else you need?" I asked gently.

He shook his head. "No... I don’t need anything else."

"Alright then," I said with a small nod, though a part of me wished he would ask for something, anything. I wanted to give it to him.

We drove home quietly, and as soon as we stepped inside, my workers came forward, gathering all the bags and carrying them upstairs to my room.

In the living room, a familiar scene greeted us: Chrisly and Nuala were locked in one of their ridiculous arguments, this time over which channel to watch on the television. Their voices overlapped, sharp and childish, even though they each had rooms of their own where they could easily watch in peace.

I sighed, shaking my head with a faint smile. "Both of you have your own rooms. Go inside and watch whatever you want," I reminded them. But of course, they ignored me, still choosing to bicker loudly instead of solving it sensibly.

Zayn stood beside me, watching them with wide eyes before breaking into soft laughter. The sound of it eased something in me, and without thinking, I reached for his hand. "Let’s go upstairs," I whispered. "Leave these two to destroy each other."

He laughed again and followed me, our fingers laced as we left the noise behind.

Upstairs, I glanced at him. "Are you going to eat?" I asked.

He shook his head gently. "No. I’m fine. It’s late already."

I studied him for a moment, wanting to press but holding back. He looked tired, and I didn’t want to push. Instead, I let him go to shower. I didn’t even bother suggesting we bathe together, not after what had happened that morning. Some wounds were still fresh.

When he came back out, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, I found myself staring longer than I should. To cover the moment, I quickly reached for one of the sets I had secretly bought, the couple’s pajamas. I handed his half of it toward him with a small smile.

"Here. For you."

He blinked at the fabric, then at me. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "There’s no way I’m wearing that with you, Evric."