Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

36. Golden

Gigi

It's 2:00 in the morning and I still haven't heard from Zayn. When I came home, the house was empty. He didn't call me, he left no message...nothing.

Well, at first I didn't worry too much about it, but now it's kind of creepy. His car is in the garage. So he has to be on foot. But where did he go?

Countless times I tried to call him. Immediately the mailbox started. Damn it, Zayn!

Restlessly I go around the house, not sure what to do now. Should I call Louis? Or should I ask our neighbors if they've seen Zayn and know anything? It's the middle of the night, Gigi, you can't possibly wake up the Styles.

Zayn was changed. For quite some time I noticed this change. I can't describe it any better. Something is in the air - a tension, something unspoken. I feel it all the time and it influences his work. The studio!

Once more I enter his studio. It is full of hidden treasures. Zayn is an artist. His works of art are the reflection of his feelings and moods. The painting with the eyes...I can't stop thinking about it. Those shining green eyes. How does Zayn get the idea to paint those? There must be a reason for it. Nobody in our family has got green eyes. So how does he come up with the idea of painting just that?

I'm not quite over it yet, that it might be Harry's eyes. But why? Does Harry play an important part in Zayn's life? I remember Louis' words about Harry's marriage.Taylor and he spend too little time together, she feels misunderstood. There's an obvious parallel to our marriage.

In the studio it smells strongly of turpentine. He must have worked on something. In the corner at the window stands the large easel. A huge painting is covered. Brushes and tubes of paint are scattered on the floor everywhere. Zayn would never leave his studio so untidy. When it comes to his studio, my husband is extremely tidy.

With my index finger I carefully lift a corner of the cover. Zayn doesn't like it when I secretly snoop around in his stuff. Admittedly... nobody sees me now when I look around. Nevertheless I have a guilty conscience. Zayn trusts me. My curiosity and of course my fear for Zayn triumphed in this case. I take the white cloth off from the painting and am totally shocked.

It is truly a masterpiece what he has created. I am impressed by the expressiveness with which Zayn captures things and brings them on the canvas. He can capture an atmosphere with a few brushstrokes. It's a self-portrait. In this painting his face is sharp-edged and coarse. But the choice of colours frightens me. Zayn painted himself in dark colors, almost only in dark colors. Black and grey are the dominating hues in Zayn's work. A distinctive feature of his portrait, however, were his eyes. They are the eye-catcher for the observer. He painted those golden. I swear, when I looked into those eyes of his, I didn't see anything but perfection behind them. Golden symbolizes beauty. But this color is also attributed another meaning - deep fear.

Golden, golden, golden... it's pounding in my head.

Since when does this hue is so important to him? I don't remember him ever painting anything golden - not during his whole career. And then I have this thought again that something is in trouble. The green painting! Hastily I search for it. Carefully stowed away, it leans on the opposite side of the room. I don't know exactly what I'm looking for and expect from it, but there is a connection...I feel it. I'm sensing something's wrong.