"I need space." You broke down when Liam confessed to you in his peculiar refined British accent.
"If that's what you want," came a defeated reply from you.
And with that, he watched you leave his life, his home. He didn't want to fuel the argument the two of you were having and so he let you leave. It felt wrong, to him, but he still went on, considering it was what he needed at the moment. But the memory of that fateful night with stomping feet and banging doors, still haunts him. It makes him restless as he stays awake at night wishing he would have stopped you that night, wouldn't have let you go. He wishes he could have told you what you really meant to him. But he cowered because he loved you too much. It took him eight months to get over you and now as you sit across the table from him, all his feelings and emotions return.
So do yours.
That night, every fibre in your being yelled out loud what blunder you were committing but you didn't stop. Because he never asked you to. It wasn't any better for you than it was for him. You cried yourself to sleep with a numb feeling wishing every second he would call you up or appear at your doorstep. And eight months passed without a contact. The more hurtful part was, you two didn't end what you had. You just kind of stopped.
***
"The dress looks lovely on you," Eleanor comments on the light pink strapless dress that adored your curves. You look beautiful and you certainly feel it too. The champagne adds to your confidence.
"Thank you. You do too." You simply smile back at her. It's just the three of you at the table now. The bride and the groom are celebrating their first dance as a couple and you sit there sipping your glass and slipping into a fantasy where you were actually happy and didn't have to pretend.
"I'll be right back," Eleanor says to no one in particular and leads herself out of the reception hall to tend to her ringing cellphone. Awkwardly enough, you and him sit at the table.
You can feel the air getting thick with discomfort and it kills you inside. You and him used to be what one would call magnetic. But all that remains of the past you and him was the physical appearance.
"Zayn looks so happy," Liam comments out of nowhere and you instantly shoot him a glance. You go through mixed feelings; a part of you is happy to hear his voice again while the rest of you sighs in sadness because after eight months of being away, this is what he first speaks to you about.
"Yeah," you nod without as much as a simple smile to play on your lips.
"This is better," he speaks again, referring to the pair celebrating their reception. "Them is better." And you instantly know what he's referring to. You and him. "No lies. Just love."
This was quite rude on his part. First he tempts you to walk out of his life and when you do, he never even calls back to check and now he's pinning this all on you.
You consider not replying to that because you don't want to drag attention and probably show yourself in the wrong light to the world. Because no matter how right you were, the paparazzi and the fans always made you seem like the evil one.
"I bet Perrie never had a reason to make Zayn feel like shit," he speaks again, without looking at you. With every passing second, it is getting difficult for you to sit there beside him. Just as you decide to get up and switch your table, he speaks again. "Sometimes all that is required to make everything right is an apology." His tone falls in the whispering range but your alert ears still catch it. It makes your movements stop and your bottom to fall back to your seat.
"Why now?" You face him. He sets his glass down and locks his eyes with yours, trying to read what lies deep in them.
"Are you happy?" He avoids your question because the answer was quite obvious. He previously never had the nerve to call you but when he saw you sitting about half a metre away, he decided to open up and talk it all out, for whatever it's worth.
