For Lovers Only - [A Zarry Stylik]©️

XXIV- SWEET, SWEET COCOA

Z,

"So, I guess we're not doing a bloody thing today, huh?" I asked looking up at the house still protected by the scaffolding.

"Not with the eminent rain, Mr Malik." Stefan, the contractor I had hired replied standing next to me.

He was right, the sky was dark and there was an imminent risk of rain - and not just a drizzle, by the size of the clouds heavy rain was coming down. There had been reports of bad weather coming in, so we were all waiting for that first drop to fall on our heads.

The renovation of the house has stopped several times throughout time. We've been at it for a few years now and I've been the one spearheading the project (mostly to act as a distraction from my life) Liam thought the house looked amazing as it was: cold, with old pipes, structure, paint and furniture and a centre for mould.

I insisted we renovated so it would be a better space for our vacations, especially with Jaimie. For him, it didn't make sense, but I was the one who had to deal with allergy cough due to the mould creeping into the corners of the house.

I found this cottage near the coast on one of the many trips Liam and I had made. It was a beautiful rustic house, that appeared small at first glance but stretched far into the yard.

It had space for a small pool with two depths, where Jaimie first had contact with water. Also, a deck with chairs and a protective roof. We were ten minutes away from the beach and on our third floor, in the attic, we could see the ocean. Currently, it was half painted, with the left side still with the old coat of green and the right side looking brand new.

It's not the most innovative of places. But, I couldn't stay in my apartment - I needed to be away. I needed to just...go away. To think. To breath. I couldn't stay in the same city where two different parts of me inhabited.

For the past three weeks, I had been working with Stefan and his team on little things around the house. I was not a professional, not by a long shot, but I knew him for a while, and he knew I liked to help.

Besides, I needed to keep busy and keep my brain away from the matters of my heart. So, my days were spent painting, scrapping, painting, pulling, hammering, and twisting. My hands and knees were sore and every night I'd sleep like a warrior after a day in battle, but I felt lighter.

With every scrape, I'd push out the thought of Liam and everything he had told me. With every brushstroke, I'd recall Harry's kisses. With every slamming of the hammer, I'd exorcise my feelings until my heart was barren. I would scrape every single amalgamation of emotions within me until they were in the most basic form. Moving through my house, getting my hands dirty and my joints sore was enough to keep my head clear.

I exhaled once again, pushing my hoodie over my head to protect myself from the strong wind coming from the sea.

"All right," I reacted. I padded Stefan on the shoulder. "Breakfast on me, then."

"You're very kind, sir."

"It's the least I could."

Stefan had a four-man team (five if you count my amateur experience), so we gathered, hopped inside their van, and went to the local restaurant. This little village by the coast was dead for most of the year, only coming alive during the summer months would be bustling with tourists and young people. Right now, if there were 100 people actively living here was a miracle.

We stopped at the restaurant, just when the rain was starting to hit. I looked over the horizon seeing the dark sky closing over the ocean.

"Morning, Mr Malik." The owner greeted me by the door. "Won't you come in?"