after we cane back home from the hospital and now that grandfather was back to sleep and mama was in her room as well i went inside my room i didn't know what to feel
relived?worried?angry?annoyed?
i layed down on my bed i didn't had the energy to change or even lift my finger
i couldn't get zayns words out of my mind
,hope you're happy, Alayna. We just signed a contract we can't get out of.,
"like i forced him to make that promise "
i said to the empty room .
i was so mad why did he had to think that every bad thing happenes to him bcz of me i promise bcz i had already losen my father i can't lose him as well he was my father even since my father dies and took care of us . Zayn could have said no or declined why was he blaming me for that like i wanted any of this
i went in the bathroom to have a cold shower to sink everything down
The water was freezing, hitting my skin with a sharp bite that finally forced the hospital smell—bleach and sickness—off of me. I stood there for a long time, the sound of the spray drowning out the internal replay of Zayn's voice.
A contract. That's all my grandfather's life was to him. A deal. A merger.
I stepped out, and wore my pjs, and caught my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and I looked smaller, somehow. Like the weight of that "contract" had already started to press down on me.
I didn't go back to bed. I knew sleep was a lost cause. Instead, I walked over to my balcony door and cracked it open. The Karachi night air was thick and humid, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned chill of the hospital.
I looked over at the Malik house. The lights were mostly off, except for one window.
Zayn's room.
He was standing on his balcony, a dark silhouette against the dim glow of his bedside lamp. He wasn't looking at me—he was staring out toward the sea, his posture as rigid as a statue.
The anger I'd felt in the shower flared up again, hot and sharp. He had no right to act like the martyr. He had no right to make me feel like I'd trapped him when I was the one who had almost lost the only father figure I had left.
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just stepped out onto my balcony, the cold tiles biting at my bare feet.
"You could have said no," I said, my voice cutting through the silence of the driveway between us. It wasn't loud, but in the stillness of the night, it sounded like a gunshot.
Zayn didn't flinch. He didn't even turn around for a long beat. Then, slowly, he pivoted, his hands gripping the iron railing. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, making him look older—and infinitely more tired.
"And let him spend his last moments thinking his family was broken?" Zayn's voice was a low rasp. "I'm not that heartless, Alayna. Despite what you clearly think of me."
"Then don't blame me for it!" I snapped, my hands trembling. "Don't walk out of a hospital room and tell me you're trapped because of me. I didn't ask for the promise, Zayn. I asked for my grandfather to live. If working with me is such a 'burden' for your high-flying career, then tell the families the truth tomorrow. I won't stop you."
Zayn let out a short, dry laugh that held no humor. He stepped closer to the edge of his balcony, his eyes locking onto mine. The "CEO" mask was gone, replaced by something much more volatile.
"The truth?" he repeated. "The truth is that I can't say no to him any more than you can. But don't act like this is just a project for me. Every time I look at those blueprints, I see the years I spent trying to forget this place. And now, I'm tied to it—and to you—by a vow I can't break."
"Then don't blame me for it!" I snapped, my hands trembling. "Don't walk out of a hospital room and tell me you're trapped because of me. I didn't ask for the promise, Zayn. I asked for my grandfather to live. If working with me is such a 'burden' for your high-flying career, then tell the families the truth tomorrow. I won't stop you."
Zayn let out a short, dry laugh that held no humor. He stepped closer to the edge of his balcony, his eyes locking onto mine. The "CEO" mask was gone, replaced by something much more volatile.
"The truth?" he repeated. "The truth is that I can't say no to him any more than you can. But don't act like this is just a project for me. Every time I look at those blueprints, I see the years I spent trying to forget this place. And now, I'm tied to it—and to you—by a vow I can't break."
I looked at him, feeling the sting of his bitterness, and realized exactly what the real problem was. It wasn't the project. It wasn't the library. It was his own ego.
"I didn't realize being around me would hurt your pride that much," I said, my voice cold and steady.
I didn't wait for him to respond. I didn't give him the satisfaction of a rebuttal. I turned on my heel and walked back into my room, pulling the glass door shut behind me.
I didn't look back to see if he was still standing there. I didn't care.
Behind me, the silence of the driveway was absolute. I walked to my bed and sat down, my heart pounding in my chest. I had finally said it out loud—the one thing he'd been trying so desperately to bury under layers of corporate coldness.
He hadn't said a word after that. He was probably still standing there on his balcony, staring at the empty space I'd left behind, completely speechless.
For the first time since he came home, I felt like I had regained a fraction of the control he'd been trying to take away.
I lay down, pulling the covers up, and for the first time in days, I actually felt like I might be able to sleep.