Triple Dog Dare *A Zayn Malik Love Story*

Chapter 37

The song for this chapter is Who am I Living For? by Katy Perry(:

*Zayn’s POV*

My hand slid the card key down the slot as the doors gradually closed.  I pressed the sixteenth floor number and felt the elevator shift upward as it followed my order.  The closer I got to my destination, the more my nerves flourished.  I couldn’t stop the fidgeting of my hands, even as I slid them in my jeans pockets, more conveniently now that I had gotten my cast taken off a week or two ago.  My foot tapped quietly on the floor of the elevator, creating a quiet, rhythmic sound that I found myself focusing more on than my objective.

The shaft increasingly slowed to a stop and opened seconds later.  I stared out in front of me but hesitated moving forward.  My legs seemed to lock in place as if to tell me not to proceed into the apartment, but my conscience told me to man up, so I did.

I pushed off the wall and took several steps inside, looking around curiously as I did so.  Everything seemed to be in their rightful place, which assured me that nothing had changed, but obviously things had.

I wound my way into the kitchen first since it was the room closest to me.  The room was airy and welcome as always, but the strong scent of coffee failed to fill the space like it normally did.

As familiar as things seemed at a first glance, I could feel that things were off.  The flat was quiet and cold and empty, despite the furnishings still occupying each room.

My mouth grew drier with each passing minute, so I walked around the island to the cabinet that I knew stored the water glasses, and pulled one out for myself.  My right hand brushed the handle of the sink and I held the glass underneath the flow of water.

After bringing it to my lips and sipping a bit of it down in small increments, I sauntered out of the kitchen and into the living room.  The once recognizable room now seemed foreign to me.  The television remained unusually silent as I had grown accustomed to hearing it whenever I was over.  The coffee table was cleared of all food and drinks and movies.  The sofa was bare with the exception of a decorative pillow on either end of the couch.  The desk in the far corner no longer housed a laptop.  Instead, it bared only a cup full of pens and pencils and a small printer.  The room felt more like a showcased room of a magazine than it did a liveable space anymore.

I shook the thought from my head and walked away from the alienated area, resorting to head down the hallway.  I glimpsed at the pictures still framed carefully along the walls, remembering the orders of them from seeing them so often here.  Each step I took felt like a hundred steps.  I hadn’t been here in over a month and a half and as routine as it felt, everything was much too different to make my experience here positive.

The door at the end of the hallway was closed, and I had to squint a bit when I opened it.  The curtains were open and the sunlight was a little overbearing at first, but eventually my eyes adjusted.

Everything was so orderly in the bedroom.  The dressers were cleared off completely and the floor was spotless.  Not a thing was misplaced or out of the ordinary except for one thing that sat against the wall on the floor.  Under further observation, I saw that it was the picture I’d drawn the day Camille took me to the art show for Valentine’s day.  It still looked exactly the same as when I drew it before and I couldn’t help but give into a small smile at seeing it again.

Knowing exactly what I’d find and knowing just how much it would hurt to check, I padded over to the closet.  I just needed confirmation, I thought.  I just want to see for myself.

My fingers wrapped around the handle of the door and pulled it open.  I heaved a sigh and shook my head.  Nothing.  There was absolutely nothing in the closet.  As much as I wanted to see all of her regular belongings inside to prove to me that she hadn’t left, I had been proven wrong.  And deep down I knew I would be proven wrong, because it would be naive of me to think I wouldn’t.  But that didn’t stop my heart from falling to the pit of my stomach at her evident departure.