WWZ (A Zayn Malik One Shot)

*Faith’s POV*

I was sitting there, in a blind despair. On the floor of the flat, I was crumpled, unaware of anything outside of this unyielding predicament. My husband Zayn Malik was a fighter ace, one of the best the British Air Force had ever seen. Churchill himself had commended him for his exemplary actions and triumphs in the field.   My heart wrenched the first day back when I was told of him enlisting to fight in the war, a war that most were dubious about its occurrence. Nonetheless, the onslaught of attacks against the French forces had seized the world into the abyss of war. His honor brought him to the service, but his ambition and courage brought him to the front lines. Zayn had saved innumerable lives, succeeded in a myriad of missions, and did homage to his country. However, I didn’t care much for that. What I cared most about was his safety, and his duty to our unborn child, who was due soon.

Thinking about my baby, Javadd, I snapped out of the subconscious layer of thought I had succumbed to and stared at the crib and the pram situated near it. We were living on his meager salary still, and the flat was only four rooms. The wooden interior was covered in a thin layer of dust, feeling like saw dust to the touch. It reminded me of walking into my dad’s wood shop, with the different odds and ends objects: a rocking chair, a dog sled, and a dollhouse. Those pieces actually furnished the 5X5 nursery room, and the adjacent areas, my bedroom, bathroom, and the living room/ kitchen. I sat down in the chair and slouched on the backrest, gazing at the triangle serving as a baby mobile. Imagining him standing there in his crisp uniform singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to our son brought another bought of tears to my eyes, attacking my senses. Picturing how Zayn would greet me when he returned from his tour, picking me up, twirling me around in his arms while passionately kissing me, crossing the nursery’s threshold and cuddling Javadd, I couldn’t keep the sobs from leaving me. When I received the starch white envelope, addressed to me by the Prime Minister, I knew it was all over. The letter opened with “Mrs. Malik, I sincerely regret to inform you…” By that point, only a little piece of hope kept me reading the letter. “…Your husband is in critical condition and is at the Bradford Royal Infirmary. He was shot down and the braveness of his two comrades, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, brought him to safety and medical aid. His current condition is erratic, and the outcome is not appearing positive. We commend his service to our country, and pray for his recovery. Sincerely, Winston Churchill.”

At that point all I could attempt to do was call my brother Liam Payne and our friend Niall Horan so that they could drive me to the hospital. Upon hearing a clamor outside my door, I figured that they had arrived and slowly walked to greet them. Sympathetic and sorrowful, the three of us drove to the hospital in a tense silence. The loss was unimaginable. Trying to lighten the mood Niall spoke up, “It will all be fine, he’ll be back soon enough with Harry and Louis and the five of us guys will be singing at the pub.” Liam joined in, “Yeah and you’ll be laughing as we trip all over each other. Remember when we tripped on Old Man Jimmy’s 80th birthday cake? That was a hoot.” I smiled fondly at the memory.

When we arrived, I ran inside as quickly as my stomach allowed. When I reached the desk and inquired for my husband the nurse directed me to his room, dictating only family and only one person at a time. I was dismayed to learn that he was in and out of consciousness. Walking up to the hospital room, my heart was beating out of my chest, I could feel a great coldness shooting through my veins, and a warmth in my stomach that soon became a searing pain, but I ignored it and soldiered on.

I passed the border of the room, and saw Zayn lying there. I could see his body mangled and broken. He was cut and bruised beyond comprehension, and his forearm looked burnt. Blood was seeping through the bandages that wrapped around his head. I walked up to him though, and reached for his hand, and just as I touched it, I saw a smile crepe onto his face.”Baby, I’m home early. Don’t worry it’s just a scratch. Not nearly as bad as the time you got mad at me and threw a book at the mirror and I cut my hand cleaning it up. You know me. I had to get home to see our son born. I also had to come in my bad boi style. First class… Infantry medical unit.” I held back the sobs that were forming in my chest. “Zayn, you shouldn’t be talking, you should be resting.” “Ah, always mother…father-ish. C’mon, that’s funny. That’s why you fell in love with me. On top of my looks. And I fell in love with you because of that beautiful brain of yours. Those gorgeous eyes. Your wit. I remember when we were standing there at your friend Lizel’s party. You were fierce and beautiful there, in that stunning blue dress, but cold as ever. From the moment you glanced my way I was hooked. I offered you my jacket, you accepted, and then traipsed off, never returning it to me. I made I my mission to talk to you every day, under the pretext of getting my coat back. Finally, I absurdly said, ‘Hadley would have given Hemingway the jacket,’ and your love of the writer sparked your interest. We conversed of poetry, novels, and music from then on. You’ve never once lost that spark, and the fire of your soul still warms my heart, and kept me warm on those cold nights alone in those fighter planes. The winters felt like the tropics. Every enemy I killed was to save you, to win your heart. I am your personal soldier; I will protect you if anyone ever tries to harm you. I will hold you and keep you warm on nights when you only feel despair’s cold hands, and celebrate with you when you discover your next literary endeavor, raise Javadd and teach him how to be a man. You’ll never have to worry.” Nevertheless, worry I did. Why was he saying such stuff? It sounded more like a goodbye, similar to what he would pledge every time he left for war. “I promise I will never let you down and I will do all of this, even if I have to from heaven, I’ll watch you from the skies.” That just broke me and the tears streamed down my face. I saw his eyes closing, and his breathing slowing. “I love you,” he breathed and I replied, “I love you, too.” Then his eyes closed in a permanent sort of fashion. As I rushed out to get a doctor, I felt myself failing. The doctor arrived and immediately they wheeled him out to the intensive care unit. As I put one foot in front of the other, stumbling to find Liam Niall, I felt my world go grey, and the hue transitioned to black.