Halfway Across The World (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Chapter Eleven

Mariam's POV:

The tension in this house had reached an all time high due to the brief chaos that went down last week between Zayn and I.

Women are all about respect. In order to be respected, they must love and respect themselves. I did love and respect myself, yet Zayn didn't. He didn't see me as anything other than a mindless maid who spoke a few words of English.

He took me for someone who, as the Americans say, is 'easy'. I've heard the word said over the internet a few times. I'm 75% sure it means something along the lines of easy to get in bed with... I hope it isn't.

As much as I hate to admit it, I was actually quite flustered the way Zayn spoke about me to his friends. It sounds mad. To fluster over such disrespect. What could I say? The man was all about making a very strong impression.

Believe me when I say this, Zayn Malik had left a large footprint on me.

"Mariam!" he yelled.

I blushed at the way his foreign tongue said my name. I thought it was adorable.

"Mariam!!" he yelled, more forcefully.
I hadn't realized I was in so much thought.
I came, dashing to his side.

"Yes?" I said, a little out of breath.

"I need you to find the remote." Zayn said, mouth full of the lunch I had just made.

"Zayn, it's right next to your feet," I sighed, pointing to his feet on the table.

"Oh. Well, I meant, could you hand it to me?" he said as if I didn't know what the difference of finding and passing it meant.

"Zayn, all you had to do was sit up." I rolled my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be calling me Sir Zayn?" he said angrily.

"You told me not to." I said quietly.

"Well, now I'm telling you to." he turned his attention back to the screen.

"Yes... sir" I finished.

With nothing else to say, I turn to go back to my room.

"Hey," he called.

I faced him, reluctantly.

I stood there for a moment, his eyes searching mine.

"Make me some soup, I'm really hungry for something with chicken and noodles." he commanded, turning his attention back to the television set.

My heart dropped a little. I don't know what I was expecting. For him to apologize and befriend me? No way. Zayn was below that.

I went in the kitchen, making the special command he asked for. Yaser enters the room.

"Mariam, can I talk to you for a bit." he said in a strangely, serious tone.

"Of course," I said, lowering the fire on the stove.

He motioned for me to follow him, I did as I was told. We reached the old guest room, I didn't know why we were here.

"Yes?"

"Mariam, your mama is taking a little vacation from this house." he smiled a little.

"What do you mean, vacation?"

"I mean, she's been working so hard. Her bones are getting brittle, and she's never been outside of Pakistan before. I decided to let her go to Indian for the summer. She'll be back as soon as Zayn leaves." he explained.

He was explaining so delicately, as if to be cautioned when speaking to me. I didn't feel as calm as him, in fact, I felt bubbling anger. I've never felt this angry.

"Where did she get the Visa?" I asked, anger not expressed yet.

"I applied hers 6 months ago so it would be processed in time for summer."

"Why wouldn't you tell me this!" I yelled, surprised at the height of my tone.

"Mariam, your mama needs a break. If I told you, you'd be furious with her and myself." he coaxed.

"And, you don't think I'm angry now?!" I shouted, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"She'll be back meri jaan,"

I realized how dramatic I was being, and how I needed to pull myself together. I had everything that I ever dreamed of, and I was being mad at the person who provided. I realized I was being selfish. My mum did need a break. She is getting old, and she does work hard.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." I said, giving my father a hug.

He said nothing. His arms rubbing my back.

"Growing up, she was the only constant thing in my life. Everybody else has left me. I'm sorry," I cried, voice cracking.

Still, he said nothing. The gestures of his hands said it all.

---

I came downstairs, rubbing my red eyes from all the crying, only to hear my name from the same dead beet on the couch this afternoon.

"Mariam!" he yelled.

Frown plastered on my face, I came to where he sat.

"Yes, Sir?" I replied, impatiently.

"Where have you fucking been? I've been calling you for the past 15 minutes." his voice harsh and ruthless.

"Sorry, Sir. I was speaking to your father. What is it you need?" I said, waiting for an answer.

"Where's that soup I ordered like 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, crap." I ran to the kitchen, turning off the stove just in time before it burned.

I brought out a bowl, poured a good serving of soup in it, and brought it to Zayn.

"What took so long?" he rolled his eyes.

I couldn't decipher whether he actually cared or not. I went with not considering the way he rolled his chocolate brown eyes.

"Okay, before you go," he started.

I sighed, hand on my hip.

"Watch the attitude."

I waited for his request, not replying to his remark.

"Which movie do you think I should watch? Here are the choices," he said laying out the many choices of Bollywood films.

Finally, a humane request.

"This one," I said, quietly pointing to the famous film, Om Shanti Om.

"Oh. God, no. I'll go with Dhoom 2. Thanks for no help," he said, handing me the disk.

I took it as my cue to put it in the DVD player. I put it in the player, and got up.

"Move out of the way, I can't see." Zayn complained.

I moved out of the way, stood staring at Zayn in disbelief at how rude he was.

"Do you need someone to tell you go back to your room, or do you have enough brain power to know that?" he snapped.

I went back to my room without uttering a word.

I didn't understand why Zayn was being such an... asshole. Of course, I'd never confront him about it. I don't cuss, and I couldn't confront him even if I wanted to. Zayn was from such a high class life whereas all I am is his brainless, servant.

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hey guys, geez zayn is an asshole omfg. stfu zen ur a jerk. yet ur still 100% hot.

dang what a harsh position to be put at. hot master, ur a servant.