His Contract Wife (Zayn Malik)

10; Apologies and Broken Tables

~Mira~

When I walk into my small flat, I can already feel an appearing headache. I drop my bag into the worn out couch and walk straight into my kitchen, to my coffee maker. I set the machine and quickly step out of my high heels, walking to my room and dumping it, followed my unbuttoning my shirt and pants. I slip on my pyjamas even though it too early in the day to be in it. But, like, who cares. My house, my pjs.

My head is throbbing by the time, I take the first sip of my coffee. It's been a long day and thinking of the day, Zayn and his stupid accusations come to my mind. I don't know what he expects of me and I don't know what to expect of him. He's nice for a minute only to turn twice as bitchy. He's annoying.

I mean, I do something nice and beneficial for his fucking self and his stupid company and all he can return me with is accusations of being vengeful. He's lost it, I swear. He's fucking lost it. My blood rages with anger because I don't need this or rather, I don't deserve this. He fucking puts me down and expects me to work as a permanent employee.

I'm not exactly in need of his appreciation, though it'll be nice, but I don't need him to remind me that I'm an amateur and he's a fool to ever believe in what I have to tell. My mind is overflowing with thoughts and I'm trying to find a way to push them to the back of my head, because it's only stressing me out. I stand up and pad over to my kitchen, washing my mug off to save myself from the chore later in the evening. I start walking back to my room to catch up with old episodes of Friends when I hear my door bell ringing.

Though, I'm not in the mood to deal with anybody right now, I saunter over to my front door, peeking through the peephole.

And there he stands, in all his expensive Armani suit and his sex styled hair glory, the one and only Zayn Malik.

I groan when he continues to ring the bell over and over again, before I find my phone's ringtone blaring my defaulted ringtone. I check the device only to find him calling me, when he is standing just on the other side of my front door.

I reject his call and walk over to the front door before I yell at him, "What do you want Zayn?"

"Fuck, Mira! You're inside the flat and you're refusing to let me in. Fucking hell, open the door," He snaps.

"I don't want to see you. Why are you even here? To accuse me of more stupid things your fucked up brain could come up with?" I spit, raising my voice to make my sentences audible for him from the other side.

"What? No. I just- Mira, just open the fucking door, okay?" He says and I shake my head.

"No. I don't want to be anywhere near you for now, or as a matter of fact, never. Just go, Zayn. I don't want to deal with your arsehole self, right now," I scold.

I can only imagine how close he is standing to the door because I can hear him breathe heavily. I can hear him shuffle on his feet before I hear, footsteps walk away and fade into the air.

I huff and finally plop down on my couch, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back on the headrest of the couch. I take a few moments of relaxing myself when the doorbell rings. I groan and when I'm about to check the peephole, Clarisa calls out to me.

"Mira, open the damn door!"

I had changed the spare keys position and I know that's why she is giving me this frustrated call from the other side of the wooden door.

"Coming!"

I huff and stand firm my place on the couch to open the door, only to see the bloody bastard giving me a smirk and Risa walking away, shaking her head.