Chapter 171: Chapter 171: Silent Nights, Hidden Tears
~Evric’s POV~
The first words that spilled out of my mouth were sharp, almost burning. "What are you doing here?"
Nicki’s eyes dropped, his voice quieter than I remembered. "I came to see you."
"For what?" I shot back, my hand tightening on the doorframe.
He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Can I come in?"
A dry laugh escaped me. "Come in? Into whose house? For what exactly?"
"I just... I just want to talk to you."
I shook my head. "My boyfriend isn’t around, and it’s not proper to let anyone in while he’s away. If you have something important to say, use your phone." I started to push the door shut, but his voice cut through.
"Evric."
I paused. "What?"
His eyes lifted, glossy with a hint of regret.
"I’m sorry."
The words only fueled my anger.
"You’re sorry? If you’re sorry for nearly killing my boyfriend by intentionally putting that in his food, then let me return it, I’m sorry for you too. But I can’t accept your apology."
"I never meant to harm Zayn," he said quickly, desperation cracking his voice.
My chest burned with rage. "Never meant? Are you saying you didn’t know Zayn has a shellfish allergy?"
Nicki swallowed hard, guilt written all over his face. "I knew... but I wasn’t thinking that day. I was jealous, Evric. You treat him so well, so differently from how you treated me. I was only jealous."
A bitter chuckle escaped my throat. "I treated you the way you deserved. And I treat Zayn the way he deserves. He shows me love, respect, loyalty, and more— so I give him my whole world. Everything I know he’s worthy of and I’ll keep treating him better every day, because he deserves nothing less."
Nicki’s voice broke as he pleaded, "I understand I was wrong. Please, can you forgive me?"
I stared at him, my voice steady but icy. ’If you had hurt me, perhaps I could have let it slide. But you deliberately targeted the man I love. That’s unforgivable.’"
He opened his mouth, trembling, about to say I’m sorry again. But I didn’t let him.
I shut the door firmly in his face and turned the lock.
Through the wood, I could feel his presence lingering, heavy with silence. He stayed there for a while, unmoving, before his footsteps finally faded away into nothing.
I stayed in the living room working, trying to focus, but my eyes kept darting to the clock. Minutes turned to hours, and still Zayn wasn’t home. At first, I told myself not to panic, but the longer it stretched, the more restless I became. My heart sank with every tick of the clock, dragging me back to the memory of that night. That trauma clung to me, making every delay feel like danger.
I clenched my phone in my hand, debating. I hated disturbing him when he was out, he always said it annoyed him, but tonight, I couldn’t stop myself.
I dialed his number. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.
The pit in my stomach deepened. I didn’t even know how to reach his friends, and there was no way I was calling Nicki for help. My hands shook as I called again. Still nothing.
Just as the fear began to choke me, I tried one more time. Finally, he answered.
"Hey, babe," Zayn’s voice came through, a little too casual. "I’m so sorry. I left my phone in the car. I’m on my way now."
I swallowed the storm of words threatening to spill and forced out a flat, "Okay."
After a while of waiting, I lay down on the couch, hoping to rest a little while I waited for him.
When he finally walked in, the strong scent of alcohol clung to him, though he tried to steady himself as if nothing was wrong. I knew he was drunk. I was still awake, stretched out on the couch, when he came closer.
He eased himself into the small space beside me, his body warm against mine. Leaning in, he pressed his lips gently to my shoulder, his voice low and soft as he whispered, "Baby, I’m back. I’m sorry I made you worry. Please... forgive me."
I looked at him slowly, my heart still pounding from the panic of earlier. My eyes met his, and I whispered, "Do you know how many times I called you? Do you know how scared I was when you didn’t answer? I hate it... I hate not hearing from you the moment I need to."
His gaze softened, guilt etched across his face. He reached for me, brushing his hand along my cheek. "I know. I’m sorry, Babe ," he murmured. "I never want to be the reason you feel that way again."
I sighed, "That aside, Zayn... why did you come back drunk? Didn’t I warn you not to?"
He quickly covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. "I didn’t come back drunk. I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?"
"You being able to talk doesn’t mean you’re not drunk," I shot back. "Didn’t you almost fall just now?"
He smiled faintly, trying to play it off. "Babe, no... that wasn’t me."
I frowned. "Then who was it?"
He avoided my gaze. "Nothing."
"Babe," I called gently.
"Hmmm?" he answered.
"What’s on your mind?"
Instead of answering, he pulled me into a tight hug. "You," he whispered against my shoulder. "You’re the only one on my mind."
I smiled softly but still pressed, "Babe, be serious."
He only looked at me, tiredness pulling down his expression. "I’m exhausted. I want to sleep."
It was clear he was avoiding the question, but I let it go for now. I stood and helped him to bed, watching as he drifted off quickly.
The next morning, I left for work early and returned very late. On my way back, I passed by Zayn’s restaurant and noticed it was closed. Strange, I thought at first, maybe it was just because it was already late, so I brushed it off.
But then three days passed, and the restaurant remained closed.
Zayn, meanwhile, stayed at home, acting as though nothing was wrong. It wasn’t unusual for him to skip the restaurant sometimes, but these past few days felt different. I began to notice his restless nights, how he would wake up in the middle of the night, pacing quietly or sitting alone in the living room while I lay there, too tired to rise.
Even through my exhaustion, I couldn’t ignore it. I noticed everything.
One evening, unable to take it anymore, I discreetly contacted one of his staff. To my shock, she told me the restaurant had been closed for four days by Zayn’s direct order, with no clear explanation. My chest tightened at her words.
When I got home, Zayn was in the kitchen preparing dinner, wearing the same calm mask. I walked up to him and hugged him from behind, searching for the right words but finding none. Later, I excused myself to change, then returned to eat with him in silence. My mind was heavy, full of questions I didn’t know how to ask.
That night, in bed, I pretended to fall asleep first. Zayn lay still for a long time before checking if I was truly asleep. Then, quietly, he slipped out of bed and went to the living room.
I waited a moment, then rose and followed. The sight that met me froze me in place, Zayn was lying on the couch, his arm covering his face. He was so still I thought he had dozed off.
I walked closer and whispered, "Babe."
He jolted at the sound of my voice. Slowly, he lowered his arm and my heart clenched when I saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. He had been crying silently all along.