AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I try to open my eyes and blink slowly, trying to get some clarity.
My bedroom ceiling.
How did I get to my bedroom?
I can’t remember much except the pain, the worry, and… Zayn.
Zayn showed up from the airport. He held me in his arms; he was so gentle, so unlike himself.
And I got hysterical. I went from hysterical to a bitch, trying to blame him all the while knowing that all this wasn’t his fault.
And then?
Then what happened?
I can’t remember.
I try to move, but my head feels so bad that the very thought of making any type of movement hurts.
A slight movement in my peripheral vision has me wincing and turning my head, and I still.
Zayn is hunched over in the uncomfortable kitchen chair, asleep. The pressure on my left hand that I just now note is him holding it as he sleeps.
I stare at his sleeping form, not knowing how to react or how to feel.
A closer look at his face tells me that he looks all kinds of tired right now. He is frowning in his sleep, his face taut with tension and in my feverish haze, I wonder what he is dreaming about that has him so rigid.
Needing water, I try to sit up.
The movement wakes Zayn up, and within a heartbeat, he goes from deep sleep to completely alert. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow, and my throat hurts at the motion. “Nothing. I am going to get some water.”
He is on his feet before I can stop him, his hands pressing down on my shoulders. “Stay. I’ll get it.”
I pull myself into a sitting position with some difficulty, my head swimming. He dimmed the lights of the room enough to see clearly, but not bright enough to be annoying.
Zayn returns within seconds, pressing a glass of water into my hands.
He doesn’t let go of it, for which I am grateful because my hands tremble.
After I quench
my thirst, I watch him set the glass down on my bedside table and ask, “What happened?”
He purses his lips, and I see the flash of worry in his eyes. “You had a fever, Eve. A very high fever. You passed out, and I called a doctor, someone I know and trust. You’ve been in and out for two days.”
Two days?
The shock is almost a physical thing. “Mila?”
“Ron had some art showing in Jersey. Mila is with Ian and Agatha. She’s in good hands.”
His calmness is rubbing off on me, and while I should have been worried about my baby girl with people who are sort of strangers to me, I know these are people Zayn trusts with his life, so I swallow and nod.
“Have you been…?”
He gives me that half-smile of his and opts not to answer the obvious question in my eyes. “You’re looking much better. How’re you feeling?”
