His Weapon - Book 1 [Z.M]

XXVI

My eyes adjusted to the faintly dark room. I took in my surroundings carefully and my heart stopped when everything came crashing back.
     'He didn't take you out. You fucking slept on his bed' My inner voice beamed but there were also several question flooding through my mind. Nothing has ever come close to the way he made love to me.
     It felt alien, it didn't feel like plain fucking. Words couldn't explain how I was feeling as I sat on his bed fully naked— still trying to piece everything together.

     "Why?"

I was about to get up when his front door opened and in he came. He looked drained and angry but I was too ecstatic to cower away. I smiled brightly at him hoping to cheer him up but he diverted his gaze and walked directly into his bathroom with a brown envelope in his hand which caused me to frown.
     A bile rose in my throat. I was scared of him doing it again— switching up on me just when things were okay. That's the thing about us, we run— almost like we are scared of everything being okay and being completely happy. I reached for my sundress and threw it on quickly
     I bit my upper lip in anticipation waiting for him to come out. I could be overthinking everything. Maybe work was stressful so he didn't want to be bothered or simply wasn't in the mood.

I have to be optimistic.

He walked out of the bathroom with the envelope in hand and a white towel around his neck— fully clothed. He laid it to rest on his drawer, pulling it open. Not once did he look at me. Something was definitely wrong.
     "Zay—"
He cut me off before I could even land.
     "Where were you the day you left to go see someone and who was it?"
He asked agitatedly and I frowned. Where was all this coming from? I furrowed my brows and looked at him.
     "I told you it's not something I want to share with you."
I said carefully and he chuckled bitterly. He ran his hands over his face as if frustrated and that made me sit up. He shook his head in disappointment and my heartbeat increased.
     "Is he worth this?" He gestured between him and me.
     "Are you soo fucking used to it that you can't fucking keep your hands to yourself?"
He asked another question before I could even wrap my head around the first one.

My mouth fell open as I stared at him, completely speechless. What was he talking about? I still wasn't catching on.
     "What are you talking abou—"
     "Stop acting fucking dumb. You know what the fuck I'm talking about."
He yelled, the veins in his neck sticking out.
     "No, I don't. What the fuck are you going on about? Stop pussyfooting and yelling at me and just out with it."
     I yelled back— standing to my feet. He chuckled humourlessly yet again— his eyes fuming with fire.
     "Don't fucking talk to me like that!" He snarled and I shook my head in disappointment. I sighed bitterly, shaking my head. I knew from that moment that no matter how hard we try to, we can never make each other happy even if for two fucking months and not to mention that a week is already gone. Where does that leave us?
     "The least you can do is tell me why you're talking to me like this."
     I said calmly— totally not in the mood to stretch veins with him. It gets tiring.