the one that got away, zayn malik

chapter twelve

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
CHAPTER TWELVE
29th of december 2014

THE end-of-year meeting had stretched on for nearly an hour when the topic finally turned to olive. she could feel the tension before a single word was spoken, an unspoken sense that the spotlight was now on her—not for her talent, but for something far more uncomfortable. they all knew the drill by now: management's "suggestions" framed as casual, unimportant adjustments, always aimed at chipping away at her role in the band.

one of the senior managers cleared his throat, his eyes barely flickering toward olive. "so, olive... for the on the road again tour, we think it'd be best to scale back some of your, let's say, 'prominent' parts. create a bit more... harmony on stage."

she kept her expression neutral, but inside, her irritation burned. "right. because i'm sure 'harmony' is the real reason," she replied, her tone light but cutting.

"olive, it's just that your role naturally draws... attention," he said, his words slow and pointed, as if weighing every one. "and we need to consider what kind of image we're putting out there." his gaze lingered a moment too long, the implication clear even if unspoken.

harry, sitting beside her, shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glancing over at her with a worried frown. niall, on her other side, had gone noticeably quiet. the whole room felt the tension thickening, but the managers continued as if it was nothing.

"exactly," another manager chimed in, flipping through his notes nonchalantly. "we want everyone to see you as a part of the whole, olive. not as..." he hesitated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "not just the face of the group. or... the figure, if you will." his eyes scanned her, assessing, in a way that made her feel as if he'd stripped her role down to something purely decorative.

olive felt her stomach twist with anger. "i'm here to sing," she said, her voice steady but sharp. "that's the whole point of all this, isn't it?"

one of the managers chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "of course, olive. we're just saying that certain roles naturally fit, you know, certain... attributes." he said it with a grin, like he'd just paid her a compliment.

niall looked down, biting the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to contain his own frustration. liam's eyes flicked over to olive, concern etched into his face. and then there was zayn, whose fists were clenched at his sides, his expression dark and fixed.

olive felt her pulse quicken, the heat of resentment rising in her chest. "you keep talking like i'm supposed to just be some... symbol for you," she snapped, unable to hold back. "i'm not here for that. i'm here to make music."

one manager raised an eyebrow, smiling as though he were indulging a petulant child. "now, olive, no need to be dramatic. we're just talking logistics here."

"right. logistics," she echoed bitterly. "funny how 'logistics' only ever seems to cut down my parts." her voice wavered with barely contained anger. "i work just as hard as anyone else here, but somehow, that's not what you see."

one of the managers sighed, as if she were the unreasonable one. "you're taking this too personally, olive. we don't mean it that way. maybe you're just... overthinking things."

"or maybe i'm not," she shot back. "maybe i'm just done letting you all reduce me to... whatever image you're trying to build." her voice was firm, even though every word was weighted with the frustration of feeling dismissed, again and again.

at that, zayn finally spoke, his voice deceptively calm but carrying a sharp edge. "why don't you address the whole group if it's a logistical issue?" he asked, his gaze locked on the manager. "if you're so concerned about balance, that should affect all of us, right?"