Twice in a Lifetime (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 73. Matters.

Remember this is a fanfic. None of this is real nor not stupid! So I'm saying it is.

Chapter 73

Mia's POV

Damn it.

How the hell was I supposed to call my own father?

I didn't have a phone and even if I did, I didn't even have his phone number. But everything that happened three days ago with Zayn's mother kept me nervously waiting for someone else's arrival.

To my relief, no one came.

But I didn't have the slightest desire to see my father after what he had done. He blackmailed someone and that someone just so happened to be Zayn's mother. Why would he blackmail her with photos of Zayn and I? Why did he want to break us apart?

This was confusing. Mrs. Malik was mentioning something about a negotiation between my father and Simon and Zayn was somehow pulled into all this mess.

Was this why Zayn felt like such a terrible person? Because he was a part of some negotiation that I knew and still know nothing about. He did say he wanted to tell me a few things but he said he was afraid I'd run away.

The swirling thoughts in my head distracted me from my task and the knife in my grasp slipped off the onion I was slicing. The sharp smash against the cutting board frightened me causing my body to jump.

Get a grip, Mia. I needed to focus on what I was doing.

Only now did I realize how itchy my eyes were. Onions were the worst vegetable to handle, in my opinion, yet it tasted so good.

When it came to cutting onions, I always made someone else do it. Darcy, or Fancy, even Ms. Wickham. Maybe even Zayn if he was here.

Will he ever be here again?

Making myself dinner was always a routine I hated. When Zayn was here and we ate dinner together, it felt practical - like we had been doing this for a while. Eating dinner by myself was one of the worst feelings, a constant reminder that I was alone.

After finishing my plate, I simply threw my dishes in the sink, telling myself I would do them in the morning which I'd probably put off til later tomorrow.

At the end of my sleep routine, I tumbled onto my bed, my head turning to the side where Zayn's things were. His shirt, his iPod, his ring - I placed them all inside the top drawer of my nightstand. In doing so, the urge in me to wear his shirt, to listen to his heartfelt message, to put on the ring, would be lessened. Merely thinking about him made the lump in my chest swell.

Over these past few days, I was really trying to find a rational reason why his mother would want us to break up. She said something along the lines of danger.

Why did she think I was dangerous? Did she not like me and made that as an excuse? Did she secretly hate me for breaking up his son's engagement?

From what I've read, Mrs. Malik really liked Perrie and couldn't wait to have her as a daughter in law.

A twinge of jealousy and hurt sheltered itself within me at the thought of Zayn's mother never accepting me as her daughter in law. I would never compare to Perrie in her eyes.

Maybe it was best if I just let Zayn go. Even if I didn't want to, we could never be together. His mother would never give us her blessing. And his parents' opinions mattered very much to him. I would know.

The relentless thoughts in my head dissolved as I fell asleep, dreaming one person who I haven't talked to in a long while - my mum.

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