Halfway Across The World (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Chapter Sixteen

"Zayn!" Yaser yelled so loud, my ears rung. I came close to my door hinge to see what was happening. I was frightened and unsure as to why Yaser would be so furious.

Zayn came from the living room with Waliyha, both smiling.

"Waliyha, go to your room. Now," Yaser spoke loudly.

"Why?" her smile settled into a straight line.

"Now." he firmly demanded.

She shook her head, striding over to her room asking no further questions.

As her door slams, Yaser takes out an envelope from his back pocket.

"What the fuck is this." he phrases as a demand rather than a question.

I wince at the swear word Waliyha had once taught me.

"Dad, please let me explain-"

"What the fuck is this, Zayn?!" he waves the envelopes around like a flag.

"Where did you find those." Zayn says so quietly, I could barely make out the words.

"Why the hell does it matter, Zayn! Why do these envelopes come from a woman named Leila Malik, when I know for a fact that Leila died."

Zayn breaks into tears. The sight is surprising, but I can't help but feel bad.

"Leila isn't dead, Dad."

Yaser puts a hand over his open mouth. He goes over to sit down on the couch. He covers his face with his large hands. I can only hear his whimpers and Zayn's sobbing.

"What do you mean she isn't dead?"

"Leila didn't die!" Zayn roars. "She ran away and told me not to tell anyone."

"Why?!"

"Because of you and Mom! She was overwhelmed with the bullshit of Pakistan versus America. She was sick of your nonstop arguing, just like the rest of us!"

"Where is she, then?" Yaser asked, ignoring Zayn's frustration.

"I can't say."

"Zayn, tell me now."

"Dad! I can't betray her trust, she's my sister! The reason she told me was because she knew she could trust me." Zayn's tears were like a waterfall. Pouring.

"Fine." Yaser whispered, ominously. "But if I find her, you can't stop me from doing what I please."

"Don't, Dad. Did you read those letters?" Zayn acknowledges the letters sent from Leila.

"No."

"If you had, you would have realized she's happy, Dad. She's settling down now, she has family."

Yaser throws the letters towards Zayn. "Take them and hide them, I don't want anyone, especially your mom to find out about this, understand?"

Zayn nods, and turns towards his room.

"And as for Leila, I will find her and come up with a way for her to be here. If you warn her at all, you'll see to it," Yaser threatens.

His threat sends chills throughout my body. I've never felt so scared of someone this close to me in my entire life.

I can smell Zayn's signature scent as he approaches his room which is very close to mine. I hide behind my door before Yaser notices I was a witness to the entire conversation.

I have a feeling I should be talking to Zayn instead of being here in my room. As soon as Yaser leaves the house, I seize the moment to go to Zayn.

I quietly open the door, hoping he wasn't doing something private.
I couldn't see him. The room looked vacant.

I risk my life by going in further. I walk over to the enormous bed. There, I saw him sitting against his bed, his eyes as red as cherries. It was disheartening to see him like this.

"Zayn," I quietly call.

He flinches, noticing me hovering over his fragile body.

"I told you not to call me that," he says wiping his moist cheeks.

Here we go again. I have no idea what I'm supposed to call him anymore..

"I heard what happened, and I'm a good listener so I cou-"

"You were listening to us?" his eyes darted towards mine. They looked disappointed, hurt.

"I couldn't help but hear things, you both were talking very loud." I said, defensively.

"That.. was a private conversation, Mariam." Zayn muttered.

"I'm sorry," I could hear my voice crack.

"You are a servant, Mariam. Not my sister, not my girlfriend, not my mom, not my wife, my servant. Do you understand?"

Suddenly, an epiphany comes over me. He doesn't care for me. I don't know why I ever thought he would.

I nod my head like a fool.

"It doesn't seem that way. Do you think you're special, Mariam? You aren't! My father only cared for you because he pities you. He feels sorry for you. As do I." he says without hesitating.

It hurt to hear what Zayn had to say about me. I let the insults absorb into me as if I was a sponge. He was upset. I understand if somebody is angry, but Zayn was not just angry. He was in search of a scapegoat. I was just that.

"Sir," I addressed.

"That's better," he seethed.

"The only person he pities is you. You're lost, so lost that you can't even see how you're acting." I began.

He shook his head in denial.

"I'm not done," I said calmly. "The only person I feel sorry for is you."

He looks up at me as if I had called his name.

"You're hurting so much, I would rather be your servant and happy about my life than be a spoiled, upper class brat." I said, going towards the door.

"And as for being your servant? I am the only servant, let alone person, who gave a damn about you." I said hesitantly.

Before I got the chance to see his reaction, I closed his door.

I hadn't realized how many tears had fallen on my own cheeks during that conversation.