Whisper of Fate: A Quiet Love Story

Chapter 13: Exhaustion and Chaos

Songs for the Chapter: Ivy - Franc ocean  or
sweater weather by the neighbourhood

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June's Pov

It's been a week since I last visited the tattoo shop. A week since Zayn and I were stuck there together during the power outage. And yet, no matter how much I try, I can't seem to shake the feeling that there's so much more to him than he lets on. It's like there's this wall around him—impenetrable to most, maybe even to himself.

And, for some reason, I want to climb it.

"June? Is everything alright?"

Ms. Campbell's voice startles me out of my thoughts, her concerned expression pulling me back to the present. She's standing by her desk, holding a file that's likely part of our latest project.

"Yes, of course!" I reply quickly, hoping my flushed face doesn't give me away. "Sorry for zoning out! Let's keep working through these photos, shall we?" I force a laugh, pretending nothing's wrong, and start printing out more shots from the shoot we wrapped up yesterday.

Ms. Campbell studies me for a moment before setting the file down. "June, why don't we call it a day? It's already an hour past your usual leaving time. I know this week's been overwhelming for you, and there's really nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Oh, no, that's really not necessary. I can—"

She holds up a hand, stopping me mid-sentence. "I wasn't asking," she says with a soft laugh. Her tone is firm but kind, and it makes me smile despite myself.

"Alright," I concede, starting to gather my things. "Thank you, Ms. Campbell."

"You're welcome. And take tomorrow off as well," she adds as I turn toward the door. "There's no need for you to come in. The only thing on the schedule is a meeting with some potential partners, and I can handle that myself."

For a moment, I consider protesting, but the weight of my exhaustion keeps me from doing so. "Okay," I say instead. "I really appreciate it."

My office is quiet as I step inside to grab my bag. The stark white walls and bare shelves stare back at me, a reminder that I've been meaning to decorate but haven't found the time—or energy—to do so.

It feels like everything in my life is like this lately. Incomplete. Waiting.

I pack up my things and tidy the desk before flicking off the light and stepping out. On my way to the elevator, I stop by Ms. Campbell's office one last time.

"Goodnight, Ms. Campbell," I say softly.

She glances up from her computer, a tired but warm smile on her face. "Take care, June. And don't forget—tomorrow is yours. Rest."

"I will," I promise, though even as I say it, I'm not sure I believe it.

The drive home is quiet. I don't bother turning on the radio or a podcast—just the hum of the engine and the occasional soft squeak of my tires as I navigate the city streets. I let my mind wander, but it keeps circling back to the same thought: Zayn.

There's something about him that stays with me, lingering in the back of my mind like a half-remembered song.

By the time I reach home, my body feels like it's moving on autopilot. I drop my bag and shoes by the door, make my way to the kitchen, to wash my hands and grab a glass of water. As I drink, I glance around the apartment enjoying the skyline

I make my way to my bathroom and decide to take a hot needed shower. I turn on the water and decide to remove my make up while it turns warm.

The shower is hot, almost scalding, but it does wonders to loosen the tension in my muscles. I stand under the spray for longer than necessary, letting the water wash away the stress of the day. Afterward, I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and sit on the edge of my bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling.