l'Amour sans Limites (A Zayn Malik Love story)

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There he was, clad in black leather jacket, the blade of his knife shining brightly in the sunlight.

Devika...I love you...

“Hello there, Zayn...Salam alaikum...” He said with a fake smile that almost made me sick. I just glared at him.

“What do you want?!” I spat at him. He tsk tsked and said, “I just wanted you...” he pointed at me and continued, “out of my way...”

“What did I ever do to you?! What is it you want?! You’re pretty famous yourself, so I reckon it’s not money! What is it?” I bellowed, my voice booming through the dingy alley walls.

He smirked and said, “Your wife...” My eyes widened and I looked at him in disgust. He ignored me and continued, “Your wife’s body is a temple, meant to be worshipped. And don’t worry, I will, bus, tumhe raaste se hatane ke intezaar hai...Aur woh khud mere baahon mein bhaag kar aayegi... (And don’t worry, I will. All I have to do is be patient enough to get you out of my path! And she’ll come running into my arms...)”

I was in full rage now! I moved forward to hit him, but he drives his knife through my side. I felt blood rush out through the wound. I still didn’t back down, hearing Devika being insulted in any way. I was fallen on the ground, so I stood up with all the energy left in my body and swung my arms in order to hit him. He dodged it and pushed me to the ground again. He kicked me on the nose a few times and said, “Tonight, I’m havin’ fun with her! See you in hell, Zayn Javvad Malik!” He bent down once again and made a huge gash on my arm with his knife. He slowly backed away from me and left.

I could feel dampness because of all the blood I’ve lost. Every inch of my body hurts. I tried getting up, but blackness surrounded me without a loophole and I passed out.

Devika’s POV

What’s takin’ him so long?! Did he go just to buy buns or a whole store?

Trust me; guys take a waaaay longer time than girls to shop!

I tried calling his phone, but it rang a few times at first, but switched off after that. I was starting to get worried now. Should I call the boys? Or the police?

I waited two hours for him to get back. Maybe he had to go to another store to buy the stuff? Yeah, that might be the case! But, still...

After another half an hour, the house phone rang. I picked it up and heard an unfamiliar voice, “Am I speaking to Mrs. Malik?” The voice asked.

“This is she; may I know who I’m speaking to?” I asked politely. She signed on the other side and said, “Ma’am, we’re calling from Guardian Angels Hospital. Your husband, Mr. Malik was brought in here a few minutes earlier with severe wounds. Looks like he was in some sort of a quarrel. Please reach here quickly.”

My eyes widened and my hand started shaking with the phone receiver. I mumbled into the phone, “I’ll be there in a few! Please save him...”

Tears started leaking down my face. I threw on a jacket and rushed out of my home into a taxi cab. I yelled at the driver, “Guardian Angels Hospital, step on it!” He reached me there in record time and I threw him a fifty pound bill. I didn’t bother getting back the change, cuz there’s nothing more important to me than the man inside the hospital now.

I went inside and asked the receptionist, “I’m here for Zayn Malik?” She looked at me with boring eyes, then looked at her computer screen and told me, “He’s in the special ward, ma’am. Take a left, then a right and it’s the second door!”