the one that got away, zayn malik

chapter twenty four

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
19th of may 2016

THE studio air was heavy with quiet focus, the scent of coffee lingering from earlier cups left abandoned on the table. olive sat cross-legged in her chair, her notebook open in her lap. the pages were already crowded with fragmented lyrics, scratched-out lines, and the faint imprint of frustration. across from her, liliana perched on the edge of the sofa, her own notebook balanced on one knee, occasionally tapping her pen against her lip as she thought.

"i keep circling back to this part," olive said, breaking the silence. she traced a finger over a line she'd written earlier. "'fake fantasies and games, i've lost a year, it's strange.' it feels...i don't know, but it's still not quite there."

liliana leaned forward to get a better look at olive's notebook. "it's good. it really is. it feels like... realizing you invested so much in something that wasn't what you thought it was." she paused, her brow furrowed. "maybe we build on that—like, what comes after that realization? what does that moment feel like?"

olive exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. "it's like this weird mix of clarity and regret. like, 'i wasted so much time,' but also, 'i had to go through it to see it for what it was.'" she scribbled something down, her pen moving quickly. "maybe something like... 'composed a hundred ways to tell you,' because i kept replaying it in my head, trying to figure out what to say."

liliana nodded thoughtfully. "i like that. and it leads somewhere. like... you want to tell him, but then there's this hesitation, you know? because what's the point if they don't care anymore?"

"exactly," olive said, her voice quiet. "it's like you're standing there with all these words and nowhere to put them. maybe something like... 'hey, what if i took your call as more than just a call? as writing on the walls.'"

liliana's eyes lit up. "that's strong. it's that feeling of, 'was i reading too much into it, or were you just giving me breadcrumbs?' it's subtle but sharp."

olive nodded, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. "yeah. i like that. it's not angry—it's just... reflective."

they worked in silence for a moment, the sound of their pens scratching against paper filling the room. then olive leaned back in her chair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "the hard part is capturing that push and pull, you know? the way you're still holding on, even though you know you shouldn't."

liliana glanced at her thoughtfully. "what about something like... 'you built this cage, lost color in my face.' like, the way it's suffocating, but you're still trying to pretend it's fine."

olive's head tilted as she considered it. "that's good. and maybe it leads into... 'you're fearing i'm insane.' because there's that moment where they make you feel like the problem, like you're the crazy one for caring so much."

"exactly," liliana said, her pen moving rapidly across her page. "and it keeps building. like... 'hallucination, shame, guilt, pain.'" she glanced up. "maybe you repeat 'pain' to really drive it home, like it's just this relentless cycle."

olive picked up the thread. "'more pain. don't let them know we're in pain.' it's like you're still trying to save face, even though it's breaking you." she tapped her pen against her notebook, a faraway look in her eyes. "i think that's what i hate the most about all of it. that even at the worst, i still felt like i had to keep it together for everyone else."

liliana didn't say anything for a moment, just let olive sit with her thoughts. then she said quietly, "what about this part? the ending you mentioned earlier—'you were in my hands, but you're good at leaving.'"