[COMPLETED]
❝Of all the races I've started, loving him is the one I never want to finish.❞
In this re-imagination of my most popular story, Arielle Hawthorne is an illegal street racer, just like Zayn Malik. Zayn's egotistical, flirty, and a major p...
"Whoever said the small things don't matter has never seen a match start a wildfire." — Beau Taplin
A/N:
disclaimer: i did not make the edit above ^ it belongs to the visibly tagged account on instagram ☺️
it's my birthday! 🥳🤍 and i'm here to mass post three updates — one for here, one for depraved, one for primrose path. i sincerely apologize if it's riddled with mistakes, i've been very busy these past few days and i'm trying my best to get this to y'all ☺️
make a guess as to what you think will happen in this chapter according to the title!
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Z A Y N
What the actual fuck.
Not only have I been robbed while being away on holiday, but almost everything I left behind has been destroyed. As I take a glance around my bedroom, I'm legitimately curious why whoever did this didn't just finish the job. Why didn't they go ahead and set the entire fucking house on fire? Wouldn't it have been easier than taking the time to do this much damage?
This was meticulous. Time consuming. Well thought out. It was done to inflict the most damage not only on my things, but to me.
I saunter across the room, grabbing my lone green armchair to stand it up right. I seat myself in it and sink my head in my hands as I assess what my bedroom has become. When I twist my neck to peer at the far side of the room, I see the painting Arielle gave me for Christmas tucked behind the dresser where I left it—the painting of her naked body sitting on my face.
I stand, sprinting to the other side and I carefully yank it out. I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice that it hasn't been touched. The fact that I placed it behind the piece of furniture for safe-keeping until I figured out where to hang it is likely the only reason it isn't smashed and torn into a million pieces on my carpeting.
I lean it up against the nearby wall—beneath a hole that appears to have been punched through the drywall.
Why didn't I bring the engagement ring with me to Muskoka? I had debated shoving it into my suitcase because I didn't want to lose it but I never in a million years thought something would actually happen to it. I had a slight fear that Arielle—or Chase, even—would go through my luggage for something and would find it and then it would become a whole thing. It's one of the main reasons I hid it in the closet before we left.
