Further On (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10;

I take a breath and try to quell the rising panic. When was this? I look at the corner of the article and it says it was just yesterday. He went to work yesterday. Or . . . did he lie about it?

Bile rises in my throat as I think about our kids. What will they think when they find out mommy killed daddy? I grab my phone to call his job since his phone is left here.

"Hello?" A deep voice answers.

Oh good, it's Tyshawn.

"Hi, Ty, uhm can you put Zayn on the phone, please?"

"Zayn's not in today. He called in sick, remember."

"Oh yeah." My irritation grows larger. "Thank you. Bye, Ty."

"See ya."

"Oh wait you're still coming to the party right?"

"I'll have to see what Zayn says okay?"

"Alright bye," he hangs up.

I purse my lips together and nod my head with a tiny smirk.

"This sneaky son of a bitch." I say to myself in disbelief.

And to think I was going to let him have his way with me tonight, knowing damn well what he was doing with the bird bitch. I snatch up a pair of jeans and a black shirt and put them on. Grabbing his phone, I look at the call log and see a contact titled 'K'.

It's like he freaking asked to get yelled at. I'm burning with rage and I slip his phone in my pocket. Going in Joel's room, I grab a bag and start shoving it with some of his clothes and important things. Next I go into Noah's and do the same.

Throughout the day, I think of all the names I'll call him. I wondered how I was going to let him know. Should I tape the magazine to the fridge and go? Or should I talk it out with him. My final decision was to sit on the couch with only the side lamp faintly illuminating the dark house, article in hand.

I hear the front door open.

Zayn pats his pockets then tosses his car keys on the table.

"Holy shit," He jumps back. "You scared me, hi baby."

When he moves in to kiss me I pull my head back.

He ignores it.

"It was a long night tonight, had to wrap some stuff up," He cuts the kitchen light on and opens the fridge. "No dinner?"

After, he finally gets a good look at my face.

"What are you doing?" He asks when he sees the bags in my hands.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you should call Khadijah up and ask her?" I smartly say.

He sighs, running his hands down his face. In frustration, I whip the magazine at him, losing the page of him.

"Look through it." I demand. "Look through it and I dare you to say you have nothing to do with Khadijah, I dare you."

He looks at the bags.

"Arielle." He says. "Whatever you think is the right thing to do, it isn't."

"Actually Zayn leaving you is exactly the right thing to do. This newfound confidence and independence I have since I started my own family is rooting for me to leave those doors." I explain. "I don't know why it took me seven years to open my eyes to how much of a dickhead you are."