Everything had been going so well between Zayn and me after that night. We spent more time together than ever, stealing moments whenever we could, sharing quick kisses in the hallways or lingering touches when no one was around. He slept over at my house a couple of times, we were really starting to become boyfriend and girlfriend. He'd look at me with that smirk that made my heart race, and for a while, it felt like maybe we were finally figuring out how to make this work. But then, out of nowhere, he told me I didn't need to come in for the last two days. No explanation, just a short text that left me wondering. That night, as I was scrolling through social media, I finally saw it: a picture of Zayn and Gigi Hadid, Zayn's ex-girlfriend, captured in some tense argument. The image was everywhere, blowing up timelines and headlines. And all I could think was, why hadn't he told me?
The image of Zayn and Gigi had been burned into my mind from the second I saw it. Every news outlet, every social feed, was filled with theories about what they could have been arguing about, whether they were rekindling something, or why they were even together at all. The tabloids loved it—two people with history, looking too intense to be "just friends" as the headlines implied. And yet, as loud as all those questions were in my head, I kept trying to tell myself it wasn't what it looked like. That Zayn and I were real, and this picture meant nothing.
The next day I was called in to work. The car ride to his studio was a blur. I kept telling myself to stay calm, to get through the day like normal. I was his assistant, his PA, after all. Nothing about that had changed, even if every feeling inside me screamed that something had shifted, something I couldn't ignore.
When I arrived, Zayn was already there, leaning over the mixing board, listening intently to the playback of some track. He looked like nothing in the world could shake him, not even the storm that was spinning in my mind. I closed the door quietly, setting my bag down, telling myself that I'd give him a chance to explain himself if it came to that.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual. "What's up?"
He glanced up and gave me a small smile, almost a smirk. "Hey, yourself. How's it going?" he asked, like nothing in the world was wrong. Like he didn't know that half of the internet was buzzing over a picture of him with his ex.
I swallowed, forcing my expression to stay neutral. "You know, the usual. Just... catching up on all the drama in the world." I let the words linger, watching his face for a reaction. He didn't flinch, didn't even blink. "You... wouldn't happen to have seen anything interesting online today, would you?" I asked, almost too casually.
He shrugged, seeming completely unaffected. "Nah, I don't pay much attention to that stuff. You know how it is."
I nodded, barely managing to hold back my disbelief. "Right. Of course. You're too busy to notice anything... like, say, a picture of you and Gigi all over social media?"
His face didn't change, but he let out a low chuckle, one that felt a bit too easy, too dismissive. "Oh, that? Yeah, I saw it. People are making a big deal out of nothing, as usual."
"A big deal out of nothing?" I repeated, feeling the first cracks in my calm start to form. "You were with your ex, Zayn. And it looked pretty intense. I thought maybe... I don't know, I thought you'd at least give me a heads-up."
He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Jada, it's not a big deal. We just ran into each other, that's it. She wanted to talk, and things got... a little tense. But there's nothing more to it than that."
"You're acting like I'm overreacting," I said, feeling a sting of frustration. "But you don't seem to understand how it feels to see that. To see you with her, knowing that no one even knows about us. That I'm just some—some secret you're keeping in the dark."
