Destacar Lover | Zarry

Chapter : 45

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Harry's looks

VOTES | COMMENT

Harry's Pov

I am back in LA and as I was walking out of the airport as the paparazzi surrounded me, their flashing cameras and shouting voices forming a chaotic whirlwind around me.

Their words were a jumble of excitement and congratulations, telling me about the success of my album, how it had skyrocketed to the top of the charts.

Their enthusiasm should have filled me with pride, but instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. My heart ached, a dull, persistent pain that no amount of success could soothe.

I lowered my gaze, hoping the sunglasses would hide the tears brimming at the edges of my eyes. The weight of their stares pressed down on me, making it harder to breathe.

The bodyguard moved closer, shielding me from the relentless crowd, but there was no escaping the turmoil inside me. I forced myself to keep moving, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Success, fame, recognition—they were supposed to be the pinnacle of everything I had worked for, yet in this moment, they felt hollow. The accolades meant nothing without Zayn by my side, and the guilt of how I had failed him gnawed at me with every passing second.

As I reached the car, I could feel the strain in my chest intensify. I slipped into the backseat, the door closing with a decisive thud, cutting off the noise from the outside world.

The silence inside the car was deafening, magnifying the thoughts that had been chasing me since I walked away from Zayn. I leaned back, resting my head against the cool leather seat, and allowed the tears I had been holding back to spill over.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror but said nothing. I was grateful for his discretion. This wasn’t something I could talk about, not yet, maybe not ever.

The weight of everything—my mistakes, my regrets, the promise I had broken—weighed heavily on my chest, constricting my breath. The fame, the adulation—it was all a lie, a smokescreen hiding the reality of the mess I had made of my life, and of Zayn’s.

We drove through the city, the lights blurring into a hazy glow as I tried to piece together the fragments of what had gone wrong. I had been so blind, so consumed by my own insecurities and fears that I hadn’t seen what it was doing to Zayn.

My mind kept going back to the night we fought, the betrayal in his eyes, the way he looked so disappointed when he saw those NDA paper. I had seen it, and yet, I had done nothing to stop myself.

I thought about Audrey’s words, her calm, steady voice as she told me the truth I had been avoiding for so long. I knew what I had to do, what I needed to change, but the thought of facing Zayn again, of looking him in the eye and admitting my failures—it terrified me.

How could I ask for forgiveness when I wasn’t even sure I deserved it?

The car came to a stop in front of my house main gate. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped out, thanking the driver as I made my way to the door.

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The house was dark and empty, a stark contrast to the life that had once filled it. I flipped on the lights, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. I needed to sleep, to shut down my mind for a few hours, but I knew it wouldn’t come easy.