23 year old, Fatima's life was well planned out when she finished her college studies in Stanford University. Coming back home in London, she'd planned to take a gap year and have time to figure out what she really wanted to do with her life. Everyt...
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Returning home, I was exhausted emotionally, spiritually and that led to physical exhaustion. I just wanted to climb on my bed and rest like never before. I threw myself on the couch, kicked my shoes off then lay flat on my back, closing my eyes. I kept thinking of my conversation with Michael, his illness, his request that I kept his family together, taking care of Zayn and all of that mafia shit. How was I supposed to do all that on my own? I wasn't strong enough to do that, I wasn't build for that life, it was too much one for person. Especially with with my short little body but I made a promise and I had to keep it. In the midst of thinking, I fell into a deep sleep.
When I awoke, I wasn't on the couch anymore nor was I in my room. I was in Zayn's room, in his bed. I yawned, sitting up straight up. My head was hurting so much, I couldn't help grunting. I removed the covers off me and got off the bed. I was still in my dress so I headed for the door and left Zayn's bedroom and went to my room. I took off my dress and headed for the bathroom.
I took a shower and stayed in it for a while, letting the water to just pour and flow down from my head to my body. I couldn't wrap my head around Michael's request. How did he expect me to just and hold a family together? A whole entire family. I could hardly keep a team of soccer together in high school now I had to keep a...wow...
After dressing in my sweaters, I tied my hair into a messy bun, didn't apply any makeup or gloss, I just let my face breath. It was still early hours, I searched for my phone but couldn't find it and it hit me, I must've left it in Zayn's room. I left my room and headed for his room, when I got there, I found my phone and checked the time, it was still three thirty in the afternoon.
I made the bed that I had left unattended. I was heading to the door when Zayn entered the room looking all sorts of handsome. He wore a leather t-shirt with black sweatpants and white sneakers. He hadn't done his haircut yet, it was pushed back and some hanging on the sides of his face. A Rolex watch around his wrist. I stopped on my tracks, he smirked when he saw me and kicked the door close by the back of his foot.
"Good afternoon, dear wife." I stood glued on my spot like a statue, I couldn't move while he started towards me, tossing his phone on the bed.
"Zayn!" I tried to act cool but inside I was burning. I didn't expect to see him especially after what happened but life never gives you what you want, it gives you the opposite.
"I didn't see you today, only saw you in the morning but you ran from me then when I saw you again you were passed out on the couch, I brought you here. You must really love passing out." He mocked.
"Is it?"
"Yeah, you're getting used to my arms, mi reina." He smirked.
"You're my husband, after all. Get used to it." I mocked back.
"Trust me I love it." He replied. "So where were you today? You were quite dressed. What was the occasion?" And he took me back to my endless thoughts of his father, my heart dropped to the last point. I lost all ability to talk. How was I supposed to tell him his father was dying? I wouldn't dare tell him. It would destroy him.
