The door creaked open, and I was face-to-face with Yasser Malik. The authority in his gaze was like ice, slicing through whatever warmth I'd felt minutes before.
"That's enough, you two." His voice was steady, final. Zayn, who'd been seething with anger a moment before, stiffened beside me. The defiance in his eyes flickered, then dimmed as he looked down, avoiding his father's stare.
I swallowed, instinctively stepping back, but Yasser held his gaze on us, unimpressed. "I've known something was going on," he said, crossing his arms. "But I was hoping you both had enough sense to keep it under control. Clearly, I was wrong." He looked over at Zayn. "It's a shame that after everything we've built, you're letting... this"—he gave me a barely concealed glance—"pull you off course."
My throat tightened as he addressed Zayn, making it clear exactly what he thought of our relationship. Zayn's jaw tensed, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but Yasser raised a hand, silencing him.
"Jada," he said, finally turning to me, his eyes hardening. "Pack up your things. I'll arrange for someone to handle Zayn's bussiness going forward."
I felt as if the ground had dropped out from under me. "You're... firing me?"
"Let's not make this personal," he replied, coldly but smoothly. "It's business. And right now, this situation isn't productive."
Zayn's face twisted with frustration, his fists clenched, but he said nothing. I waited, hoping he would speak up, argue, do something. But when he stayed silent, my stomach sank. The reality of it all hit me in waves.
"I'll get my things." My voice came out weaker than I'd hoped.
Yasser stepped aside to let me pass, his gaze a silent warning. Zayn still hadn't moved, his arms crossed as he watched me go. I gave him a final, desperate look, but his expression remained unreadable, distant. It felt like betrayal.
That night, as I gathered my things from RCA Records, I felt numb, the studio empty and eerily silent. I'd poured myself into this job—late nights, endless planning, handling press, learning every nuance of Zayn's routine—and now I had to walk away, not just from the job but from him. My mind swirled with the memory of our last few days together, the stolen moments that now felt hollow. I took one last look at the studio, the walls filled with posters, stacks of equipment and instruments I'd come to know. It was as if everything I'd worked for, everything I thought mattered, was slipping away.
I packed up Zayn's upcoming PR schedules, briefing notes, and calendar into neat folders, leaving them on the desk with a short note for my replacement. Then, I turned off the lights and walked out, feeling the weight of each step echo through the empty hallway.
Arriving home, the familiar scent of my mom's cooking should have been comforting, but it felt like a reminder of everything I was losing. I took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into the warmth of the living room. My dad sat in his favorite armchair, his face lighting up when he saw me.
"Home early?" he asked, his tone friendly, but his eyes immediately sharp with curiosity.
I forced a small smile, hoping I could somehow explain without actually explaining. "Yeah. I, uh... I got let go. Fired," I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice wavered.
My dad's expression shifted in an instant. "Fired? Jada, what happened?"
"It's... well, there was some tension with Zayn's team," I said carefully, choosing each word. "They decided it was best if I didn't work with him anymore."
"Tension?" he repeated, frowning. "Jada, this was supposed to be the job that set you up for the future. What kind of 'tension' gets you fired?"
I hesitated, not sure how to explain it without revealing too much. "It's just... there was a lot going on. High-pressure environment, and they thought I might be a distraction to his work."
"A distraction?" His frown deepened, and he shook his head, clearly disappointed. "That's all just... I don't know, Jada. I thought you were more focused than that. I don't want to sound harsh, but I didn't think you'd get yourself fired over office politics. This was a big opportunity—one that doesn't come around every day."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. "I know. I'm... I'm sorry. I did my best."
He let out a sigh, shaking his head, and picked up his mug again, his disappointment clear. "Well, maybe next time you'll remember that getting close to a job means more than just doing the work—it means keeping your head down and out of the way."
With that, he turned back to his paper, and I slipped out of the room, feeling a heavy sense of guilt settle over me.
My mom had been listening from the doorway to the kitchen. Her gentle eyes watched me closely as she dried her hands on a towel. She came closer, saying nothing, and I could feel her waiting, sensing there was more to the story.
After a moment, she reached out, rubbing my shoulder, her gaze soft and understanding. "Come on, let's talk in the kitchen."
I followed her into the kitchen, where she gestured for me to sit down. Once we were seated, she poured me a glass of water and looked at me intently. "Sweetheart, I can tell there's more to this. What really happened?"
My defenses broke as I looked at her, and I felt the weight of everything I'd been holding back crash over me. "I... I got close to Zayn. Closer than I should have. We had... a relationship. It was a mistake, and his dad found out, and—" My voice cracked, and I stopped, clutching my hands together.
My mom's expression softened with sympathy, and she placed a hand over mine. "You have a good heart, Jada. But sometimes we get swept up in things that feel right, even if they aren't. Just because it didn't work out doesn't mean you're any less talented, or that this was all for nothing."
Her words sank in slowly, and I felt a wave of relief, even if it didn't take away the ache in my chest.
As I sat with her, the pieces of my life felt scattered, uncertain. But part of me knew I'd be okay, that this was just one chapter ending—painful as it was. And even though I wasn't sure what came next, I wasn't ready to give up.
