Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Fourteen.

It seemed as though the rain would never end on the day that Zayn was buried.

Murphy had never met his mother before, but when a very small, brunette, Middle Eastern woman collapsed in front of his casket, she knew it had to be his mother.

Adorned in a long black dress, Mrs. Malik covered her face and shook her head as her eyes shut in pain, guttural sobs wracking through the nearly empty cemetery.

Murphy, who had been stood beside a quiet Harry, silently made her way over to his mother where she placed a hand on her back and began comforting her gently. His mother opened her eyes and met her gaze, sniffling.

"W-Who are you?" The older woman asked with a certain fragility to her voice.

"Murphy," she answered quietly, "I lived with your son for almost six years," her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, her face crumbling in on its monotonous facade as she stared into eyes that were nearly identical to her Zayn's.

Murphy had genuinely expected for his mother to stand up, smack her in the face, and order her to leave the premises immediately. Instead, Mrs. Malik stood up on shaky legs and leaned into the girl, her arms wrapping around her waist as she gently rubbed her back.

"Thank you," the woman whispered sincerely, "thank you for being by his side for so long. I can only imagine how hard it was to stay, but... Thank you, Murphy. Thank you."

Mrs. Malik pulled away them, holding Murphy by her shoulders and giving her a tearful smile. Murphy didn't realize she was crying until she felt a tear fall onto her collarbone, and just like a flood gate, the tears wouldn't stop after that.

Zayn's mother walked off after that, not receiving a reply from Murphy- because what could she possibly say to a mother who just lost her child? How could she even thank her, when she was the one who left?

Funerals were always so strange to Murphy. She'd only been to a few in her lifetime- and every single time, she could hardly take her eyes off of the casket, knowing that someone she knew and someone she may or may not have loved, was inside of it- sealed away for the rest of eternity. Death never truly hit her until she watched the person be buried, and as the first piles of dirt began to get piled on top of Zayn's casket, the reality of the situation finally crashed down on her.

Zayn was, in the smallest of descriptions, a very grumpy human being. Murphy knew that he hated mornings, that he loved whiskey, and that he felt indifferent towards sitcoms. She knew he loved dogs and babies and he hated the sunshine and loved the rain- the irony didn't go over her head that he was buried during a storm. She knew he loved the color red, and old school R&B, and graffiti art and tattoos and even comic books. She knew he hated weddings and crowds and cheesy romance movies and that regardless of how shitty of a path he was on, he still prayed before he went to sleep and still refused to eat pork.

What Murphy didn't know about Zayn was he still had a mother who clearly loved him, and that before Zayn had died, he had taken the time out of his day to write her a letter.

It was handed to her by Kitty, who approached her quietly and placed a kiss on her forehead. The taller woman gingerly placed the folded paper in her hand as if it were a secret, before she turned to Harry with a knowing smirk.

"Are you the famous Harry?"

"Not quite famous, but that is my name," he replied with a genuine smile. "You must be Kitty."

"Oh?" Kitty raised a perfect eyebrow, "you've heard of me?"

"Murphy doesn't shut up about you," he grinned, taking Murphy's hand in his own, "nothing but good things, of course."