For Lovers Only - [A Zarry Stylik]©️

XXXVIII- A SATURDAY FOR US

H,

A few days later...

For a moment, I forgot we had this turbulent story between us. For a moment, I dared to dream that everything would be easy.

Making plans of travelling the world, having dinner at home, hand-holding and falling asleep in his arms. Nights of pleasure, conversations that lasted until morning and the smell of coffee wafting around the house. Simple things we kept since we were teens now made us happy as grown men.

I was arrogant.

I was too confident that Liam would not say a word.

That he was going to let Zayn go.

I was comfortable and allowed my walls down while navigating the river of love.

I dared to assume that Liam's silence would be everlasting. That he was done. That he had moved on.

I should've known better.

I should've known that the cards he held over Zayn's head trumped mine.

The door was still closed since Zayn left this morning and my phone was still quiet with no news. I wanted to stay put, hold my ground and be strong, but inside I was an explosion of feelings and emotions. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to panic. I had to breathe. In and out with constant repetition until my ears stopped buzzing and my hands no longer trembled.

I told him to go.

I demanded that he go.

I had enough! "Go, then!"

Right into the wolves' den. I did not follow him. I stood my ground and advocated for my sanity.

Now, here I was; sitting on my sofa - the same place we had loved one another so many times - feeling like I had gone back in time. Recognizing the sense of abandonment I had felt two years ago and so many times before. I had won the battle, but the war was now coming to my doorstep and Liam had tools I didn't.

He was a master.

He knew what he was doing perfectly: the long silence, the slowness in giving an answer for the first date of the hearing, pushing demands back and forth, keeping Jaimie away from Zayn. Oh. He was good. I couldn't possibly hate that.

What a greedy, insecure little man. Working so hard to get...no, to keep Zayn's love. Thrashing and kicking like a raging bull who refused to walk to the slaughterhouse. A broken creature who couldn't take no for an answer.

It wasn't going to be easy, but I honestly thought he'd attack me. Destroy me: my career, my image, my connections. Toss me down the gutter. After all, I was the guilty one for breaking up his marriage.

No, again he went into his bag of tricks and pulled an impossible one. The kind I didn't think he could do.

No, I'm not exaggerating. He did this. I was sure of it. He played it well.

My hands were clasped together tight, my knee kept bouncing and I continued to glare at the door. I was ready to jump at someone's throat.

One look at my phone, seeing it still unmoved, unchanged.

No texts.

No calls.

Three hours passed.

The sun was already on its descent, the basket we had prepared for our picnic was still on the island and the beers had gone warm.

I told him to go.

In a fit of stubbornness, I fished for my phone and my jacket. Then walked out of the apartment.