the one that got away, zayn malik

chapter thirty five

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
1st of october 2016

OLIVE sat across from dylan in the corner of her favourite cafe, one she'd loved for years. the light filtered softly through the tall windows, catching the golden accents on the sugar pots and the pale green of the tiled walls. the warmth of the space, once a sanctuary, felt stifling now.

she stirred her tea absentmindedly, her gaze flickering between dylan and the corner table near the window. she'd sat there countless times before—with zayn. it was their spot, where they'd escape from the world, sharing croissants and jokes between sips of coffee. a bittersweet pang of nostalgia hit her, but she shook it off, snapping back to dylan's voice.

"...so the reception to that film was insane," he was saying, his hands gesturing animatedly. "i mean, the critics loved it, but honestly, i think it's just the beginning. people are finally seeing my range, you know?"

olive nodded faintly, feigning interest. "mm-hmm, definitely."

dylan's grin widened, misreading her distraction as admiration. "right? and, like, the role i'm up for next—it's intense. deeply emotional, layered. it could easily be my best performance yet." he leaned forward conspiratorially. "the director's already hinted i'm their top choice. it's pretty much mine."

"sounds amazing," olive murmured, letting her eyes drift toward the street outside.

her mind was elsewhere. the promise she'd made the night before—to give dylan the day, just the two of them—felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. she'd said it to diffuse the tension, a temporary salve after yet another argument, but now it felt like an obligation, not a choice. dylan had been in london for only a few days, and already his presence felt overwhelming. she longed for a moment of quiet, a pocket of space where she could breathe without his incessant need for attention.

"babe, are you even listening?" dylan's voice broke through her thoughts.

olive blinked, startled. "yeah, of course. the director hinted you're the top choice." she offered a small smile, hoping it would pacify him.

he laughed, shaking his head. "you're so bad at pretending sometimes. but that's okay—I know you're proud of me."

she nodded quickly, not trusting herself to say anything else. her tea had gone cold, but she didn't feel like drinking it anyway. she toyed with the edge of the saucer, her mind circling back to the leak from the day before. the chaos it had caused was still fresh, and even though her team was handling it, she couldn't shake the unease.

"anyway," dylan continued, clearly unfazed by her silence. "i've been thinking. maybe after this next film wraps, we should do a proper getaway. you and me. somewhere remote, like the maldives or something . just us, no distractions."

her stomach tightened at the thought. dylan's idea of "no distractions" usually meant being glued to his own world—his projects, his needs, his stories. she doubted he even realized how much space he took up, how little room he left for her to simply exist.

"that sounds nice," she said softly, her voice noncommittal.

he leaned back, studying her. "you're so quiet today. what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

olive forced a smile. "just tired. it's been a long week."

"yeah, i get that," dylan said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "but hey, at least you've got me here to take your mind off things."

she nodded again, suppressing a sigh. dylan's obliviousness was maddening at times—his inability to read the room, to sense when she needed space. but she couldn't bring herself to confront him, not here, not now. it would only lead to another argument, and she didn't have the energy for that.