𝓒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄, ᶻᵃʸⁿ ᵐᵃˡⁱᵏ

𝐈𝐗. 𝟏𝟏

as i wiped the syrup from valentina's chin, her laughter echoing softly in the kitchen, i could feel the tug.

his name still lingered in the air, heavy. zayn. it always stayed longer than i wanted it to, like a shadow i couldn't escape, no matter how hard i tried.

zayn.

my best friend. my almost-everything. the one who disappeared.

the smell of pancakes and syrup swirled around me, but suddenly, i wasn't standing here anymore. i was back in school.

11 years ago.

zayn was there beside me, just like always. his arm slung over my shoulders, his easy smile lighting up the whole world. we were sitting on the low brick wall by the school gates, killing time before class.

he was telling some ridiculous story, probably about one of our teachers, and i couldn't stop laughing, leaning into him, my head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

back then, it was the most natural thing.

"you know," he said, pausing, "if i ever get famous, you'll be my personal assistant. you'll bring me all my snacks and tell me when my hair looks stupid."

i rolled my eyes at him. "oh yeah, sure. can't fucking wait for that glamorous life. carrying your bags and telling you how pretty you are all day."

"you do that anyway," he teased, nudging me. "except for the bags. i mostly carry your bags, but we can change that."

"don't get ahead of yourself, malik," i said, smirking. "you're not that good-looking."

his mouth dropped open, all fake drama. "isobella dália silva, how dare you? after everything we've been through?"

we burst out laughing, the kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water. that was us—always joking, always laughing. i thought it would last forever.

but then everything changed.

the first time we hooked up, it had been at my house. we were in my room, sprawled out on the floor, music playing in the background like always.

zayn had been quiet that night, quieter than usual, like something was on his mind. we were talking about his X factor audition—he was nervous, which was rare for him.

"i don't know, belle," he'd said, staring at the ceiling. "what if i completely fucking blow it?"

i laughed softly, nudging him. "you? blow it? you've got this, z. i've seen you sing a million times. you'll crush it."

"yeah, but what if i don't?" he whispered, a vulnerability in his voice i wasn't used to.

i turned on my side to face him. "you will. i promise. you'll become this massive pop star."

he had looked at me then, really looked at me, and before i could say anything else, he kissed me. soft at first, hesitant, but then it deepened, and suddenly all the years of friendship, of unspoken feelings, crashed down on us.

it had felt... right. so right. but afterward, we didn't talk about it. we let it go, like it hadn't happened. like we hadn't crossed a line we couldn't uncross.

then it happened again. a few weeks later, after he got the news he made it through the X factor auditions. we snuck out of school, ran through the park, laughing and celebrating. and then, behind the trees, hidden from the world, we kissed again.

then sprinted home.

but this time, it wasn't just fun or curiosity—it felt heavier, more real. like something was shifting between us.

i thought that moment would mean something. that it would change us, bring us closer. but it didn't.

it was the last time we ever kissed.

and then he was gone.

once one direction blew up, he disappeared. texts were left unread, calls unanswered. weeks passed, then months, and i realized—he had moved on.

i wasn't part of his new world, his new life. i remember seeing him on TV for the first time, standing on that stage with the rest of the boys, looking so... different.

the zayn i knew—the one who made me laugh until my stomach hurt and kissed me like i was the only thing that mattered—was gone, replaced by someone i didn't recognize.

the first night i saw him on TV, i cried. not because i missed him, though i did. but because i was angry. furious, really. how could he just leave me behind like that? like i didn't matter. like we didn't matter.

valentina's couce cut through the fog of memories. "mummy , can we have poptarts tomorrow?" she asked, her wide eyes looking up at me, innocent and full of joy.

i blinked, pulling myself out of the past and into the present. i forced a smile. "of course, sweetheart. tomorrow, we'll go shop and buy some. "

but as i turned to rinse the dishes, the ache in my chest returned, the weight of everything with zayn pressing down on me. it had been years, and yet, i still wasn't over it. not completely.

"mummyyyu," val said again, pulling me from my thoughts. "where's zayn? is he coming back?"

her question caught me off guard once again, the way kids' questions often do. i hesitated, swallowing the lump in my throat. "i... i don't know, baby. he's busy with a lot of things right now."

she looked at me, confused. "but i like him. can we see him soon?"

i knelt beside her, brushing her hair away from her face. " maybe. but even if we don't see him soon, we're going to be okay. you and me."

she smiled at me, and in that moment, i realized how much had changed since those days with zayn. my life had taken a different path—one without him. and maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

but deep down, a part of me wondered if i'd ever fully let go. or if zayn would ever come back, not as the celebrity he'd become, but as the boy i used to know. z. the one i'd lost along the way.

𝐚𝐯𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬!

i'm tryna build on why she's so mean to him sometimes