You're lying in bed and clicking through your social media pages. Zayn is in the studio and you're waiting for him to finally come home. You're hoping that your husband will finally let you listen to the new album he's been working on for so long. Unfortunately, he kept rejecting you, saying it was still far from good. But you just can't imagine that.
To pass some time you click through Instagram. Zayn has uploaded a new story, which you click on. He's standing at the microphone with his headphones on. You can't help but smile. You just have the hottest husband in the world. You click on his profile and look at the pictures in his Instagram feed. You catch yourself like a little fangirl, zooming in on every single picture and looking at his hot body. You're so into stalking your husband that you don't even notice that he's been standing in the doorway for a few minutes, looking at you with amusement. He knows exactly what you're doing. He's caught you doing it before.
"Hey babe." you hear a voice say and you drop your phone in shock. As you are in a lying position and holding the phone over your face, it lands directly on your nose. There is a loud bang in the room. A few seconds later, you are holding your face in pain. The pain is so intense at first that it brings tears to your eyes. "Oh shit," you hear Zayn say, coming towards you with quick steps.
"Shit, I'm sorry about that." he says with a guilty tone. Zayn sits down on the bed and hugs you close to him. He tries to stroke your back reassuringly and kisses your forehead. "Shall I get you some ice?" you nod and Zayn makes his way to the kitchen.
"Let me see that." he says a few minutes later. You take your hand off your nose and look at Zayn. The shocked look on his face tells you that it probably looks worse than you thought. "Okay..." he says hesitantly. "Put the ice on it." Zayn carefully presses the ice pack onto your nose. "Say it!" you say quietly. "Say what?" Zayn asks meekly. "Tell me how bad it looks." Zayn thinks for a moment. "A bit blue, I'd say." "A bit?" you ask. Zayn breaks eye contact with you. "A little more, maybe." Your eyes widen. "On a scale of 1-10, how much more blue?" Zayn runs a hand through his hair. "I'd say between 6 and 7." You start crying again. "Oh great. How do I look now? There's no way I can go to the fashion show like this. They'll all laugh at me," you say, upset. Zayn pulls you into his arms and the two of you snuggle up in the warm blanket on your bed. "Luckily there's make-up," he says and laughs. "It'll be fine!" he whispers softly in your ear, humming the melody of his new song.
