Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

43. God

Harry

Another day has passed after the disastrous dinner with Gigi. All emotions were running high.

I guess none of us had a quiet night. In forty-eight hours is Zayns exhibition opening, to which we are of course also invited.

So far I haven't told him about the incidents. I picked up the phone a hundred times to send him a text. I deleted it a hundred times. I never found the right words.

Our neighbor hasn't contacted us since. Taylor looked after her the next morning and gave the all-clear. Gigi seemed calm and have to come to terms with what happened.

At least I'm out of the firing line.

I miss Zayn. That was my first thought this morning when I sat over my novel with a hot cup of coffee in my hands. Well, I'm trying to write again. In fact, I put a whole chapter down on paper and worked very concentrated. The words just flowed out from the heart's core and after a few hours of writing, I am satisfied with myself and my work.

Lost in thought I walk out into the garden and marvel at the beautiful lush landscape that surrounds me. I remember my first encounter with Zayn in the garden when I stood in front of him in my boxers. I remember his disparaging look; his very arrogant manner and his incredibly good looks. Suddenly I can't stand it to be without him. My longing carries me away into the blue distance....to him. Taylor's at the company all day, I finished a chapter and I'm taking a break. Quickly I put on a pair of jeans and a white shirt, slip into comfortable Converse and leave the house to surprise Zayn.

Louis

Well, well, well... Harry's finally leaving the home sweet home.

I've been watching the Styles for hours after Gigi had awakened me last night. She screamed through the line and started railing on me. In the beginning I could hardly understand her, because her voice cracked and I was still drowsy in bed. Later, when she had calmed down a little, I understood what she was talking about.

Harry Styles, my former friend and the lover of Zayn Malik, outed me in front of both women and told them about my weakness for the painter.

Honestly, I was absolutely flabbergasted when I heard. I never thought this could happen. Suddenly I was wide awake in the middle of the night. Gigi bombarded me with questions, expected statements and I had to turn the tables. I can usually figure out a way to manipulate a situation in my favour. I skilfully drew her attention back to the necklace and the painting, to her boring marriage, her constant being alone and the rare tenderness between her and Zayn. This young woman is really naive. Within a few minutes I had fully persuaded her of my version of the story. I held all trump cards, to dispel all doubts.

Flashback

"Gigi, I'll give you proof that Harry lied to save his own skin," I say through the line. "In a few hours you'll get what you're looking for."

But I didn't give her a clearer indication yet. That would be too early. I want to enjoy my triumph to the full and must therefore not rush. I already have the videos, but I want to give her more proofs.

She can't see my face during the phone call, that it's red with anger and that I'm eaten up with jealousy. Styles will pay for that. He's gone too far with my outing, I think. In my hands I hold the videos from the security camera, that I once made. At that time I believed that they could never be so important. Everything went in my favour. Well, it looks like I need them now more than ever. But I need more proofs. It shall be my revenge.

Zayn and Harry can't meet at their homes anymore. They're smart enough not to make that mistake. So where do they meet? That's what I want to find out today and then the missing piece of the puzzle is found.

Louis

Slowly I drive my car along the streets. Harry is about two hundred meters in front of me. He must not spot me under any circumstances. Humming to a song on the radio I hope he's going straight to his sweetheart and not shopping.

We leave the wealthy area and dive into the bustling city life. After another five hundred meters, his car turns left into a student campus and parks at the end of the street.

I am enthusiastic about the different styles of architecture of the houses that are line the street. What a gem. Who does he meet here? This place is just like Zayn - colorful, multifaceted, like his paintings are. He is an artist and loves everything that has to do with it. The painter is not shallow, even if he occasionally gives this impression. Zayn is much more than that. Not only do I have a weakness for his looks, I also have a weakness for his intelligence, for his esprit and his point of view. Is there anything erotic? He is a great, fascinating character.

Harry gets out, crosses the small street and stops in front of an art nouveau house. He looks up longingly at the huge windows. My car is on the opposite side of the building. He can't see me and wouldn't expose me either. To be on the safe side I got myself a rental car. Styles is still standing at the portal and staring up. A few seconds later the window opens and a man with black tousled hair looks out. My heart beats faster. Zayn.

So I wasn't wrong. The love nest of the two is only a few kilometres away from their home. Smart, really smart, lovebirds. My camera takes some pictures, including the one when Zayn sticks his head out of the window. The door buzzer hums and Harry rushes in. Slowly the heavy door falls into the lock and keeps its secret.

I'm wondering if Gigi knows about this place. Probably she is unsuspecting - as always. Her good faith.....Fate took its course.

I am getting annoyed. Zayn is ruthless and lives his own life - without his wife, without me, but with his neighbour. They have fallen for each other and find each other again and again. I hate Harry. I hate him for his feelings for Zayn, I also hate him for the fact that the great artist can't keep his hands off him. Zayn, the most erotic man in the universe, ensnares the pale, boyish-looking curly head. He lets his wonderful fingertips run over his body; kisses Harry's mouth with his full pink lips. The mere idea of seeing both of them lying tangled in bed, whispering all those sweet nothings , drives me mad. Why can't I have him?

I lost the fight for Zayn. He doesn't want me and he never wanted me. The feeling of love is not mutual. My time is up. All that remains for me is the vision of a future with him - a never-ending delusion that makes me lie awake at night. So I have nothing to lose if I busted both of them, ruined their lives. Zayn will hate me even more, despise me and look down on me with disgust in his eyes.

And Harry? Harry's friendship isn't important to me anymore... if we ever had one. Our conversations in recent years have been all about books. What private things do I know about him? Few. Taylor was always closer to me.

As you can see: I have nothing to lose, but much to destroy.

With my evidence in my bag, I start my way back and leave this area at a leisurely pace. Without further ado I decide to go back to the publishing house to save the photos. I take the motorway.

As I pass the slip road a van suddenly comes towards me. With open eyes wide I sense the catastrophe. I try to wrench the steering wheel round to swerved to avoid the vehicle. Seconds pass; seconds that make my pulse speed up; seconds that bring me one step closer to heaven.