Chapter 172: Chapter 172: Demanding Answers
~Evric’s POV~
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.
"Babe," I whispered, walking closer. "What’s wrong? Why are you here crying alone?"
He quickly forced a smile, pretending nothing was wrong, but I had already caught him. His excuses tumbled out, he said he just couldn’t sleep, that his stomach was upset, anything to cover it up. None of it convinced me.
"Zayn," I called gently.
"Yes?" he answered softly, avoiding my eyes.
"Is there something you’re hiding from me?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Are you sure?" I pressed.
"Why are you asking me that?" he replied.
I sighed deeply. "Why has your restaurant been closed for the past four days?"
For a moment, he froze. He wanted to lie, I could see it on his face, but I stopped him before he spoke. "Don’t bother making excuses. I already know the restaurant has been shut for four days. All I want is the truth."
But no matter how much I asked, Zayn stayed silent. Eventually, I let it go. Instead of pressing further, I focused on trying to comfort him, to bring back his smile. Nothing worked. So I simply walked him back to the bedroom, laid him down, and wrapped him in my arms until we both drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, he was already awake, preparing breakfast. But his mood was different as if he had accepted something deep inside himself.
I hugged him from behind. "Good morning, babe."
"Good morning," he replied flatly.
I sat at the dining table, ready to speak, but Zayn cut me off as if he already knew what I wanted to ask.
"Babe, I won’t be working for a while. Until I figure out what else to do, I’ll just stay home... maybe spend time with friends. Like today, I’ll be going to Nantam’s house."
I listened, but every word felt wrong. "Zayn," I asked firmly, "why did you close your restaurant?"
He smiled faintly, "It just got boring to me. So I shut it down. I’m trying to find something new to do."
The words slipped out before I could stop them. "You’re lying."
His eyes flickered, but I continued, my voice breaking. "You’re a liar, Zayn, and not even a good one. That excuse makes no sense. Enough of your lies. If you won’t talk to me, fine. But tell me... why should I have a boyfriend who’s going through so much and still refuses to share it with me? Why?"
Silence fell heavy between us. My anger boiled, and I stood, pushing the chair back. "I’m not eating your food. I’ll prepare myself and then go to work."
"Evric," he called, his voice sharp.
"What?" I snapped.
"Sit down."
I thought he was finally ready to tell me the truth, but instead, he said, "I woke up early to cook for you. Don’t you dare refuse it."
I stared at him. His voice carried pain, frustration, and secrets he wasn’t ready to reveal. I could see it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
"Zayn..." I uttered.
"Don’t get me angry," he said firmly. "Just sit down and eat."
So I obeyed. Quietly, I sat back down and ate the meal he had prepared. Afterward, I went to get dressed for work. Before I left, he said casually, "Later, I’ll meet up with Nantam."
I only nodded. "Okay."
Inside, though, I was angry and hurt that he kept pushing me away, hiding everything from me. He didn’t even seem to understand himself anymore. But one thing was certain. If Zayn wouldn’t tell me the truth, then I’d do my own digging. I was going to find out what really happened to his restaurant.
When I got to work, I couldn’t focus. Every file in front of me blurred into the same lines of worry. My mind was stuck on Zayn. What’s going through his head? Why is he shutting me out?
The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. None of it added up. I couldn’t even point to one solid reason, and that only made me feel worse as if I was failing as his boyfriend, failing to notice what I should have already seen.
I told myself right then: Tonight, no matter what, I’m going to beg him to open up. Whatever this is, whatever’s hurting him, we’ll face it together.
When work finally ended, I went straight home. But when I opened the door, the house was quiet... Zayn wasn’t back yet. I sat in the living room, waiting, restless, my eyes flicking to the clock every few minutes.
Then the door opened. Relief flickered in me until the strong smell of alcohol hit my nose. My relief turned instantly to anger. This time, it wasn’t just Zayn stumbling home—Dean was supporting him inside. Zayn was drunk, badly.
"Damn it," I swallowed the storm building in my throat and turned to Dean. "Don’t leave yet. I need to talk to you."
I carried Zayn inside first, laying him gently on the bed, making sure he was comfortable. Watching him like that vulnerable, his face slack with exhaustion made my anger shift into something heavier, more painful.
I stepped back into the living room where Dean was waiting. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I said, then went straight to the point. "Dean, please. I need to know, are you guys aware that Zayn restaurant has been locked for days now?"
Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, Nantam and I noticed. We asked him about it, but he didn’t tell us much. All he said was he’s bored with it, and he wants to try something new. But we can tell, that’s not the truth. Still, we can’t press him. If he’s not ready to talk, he won’t."
I sighed, frustration pulling at every corner of me. So it’s not just me. He’s shutting everyone out, even his friends.
"Alright," I said at last, giving Dean a small nod. "Thanks for telling me. You should go, it’s late."
After Dean left, silence swallowed the house again. I sank into the couch, my thoughts racing. Could it be my father? Did he have something to do with Zayn shutting down the restaurant?
I shook my head quickly. No, that couldn’t be it. My father and Zayn do have a deal, but it won’t even begin until three months from now. The agreement can only be finalized and signed then. It’s far too early for my father to have anything to do with this.
Then another thought struck me, sharp and unsettling. There was one person Zayn have confided in.
Evans.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Evans.
The line rang once. Twice. On the third ring, he finally picked up.
But I didn’t even give him the chance to speak. The words came out of me like fire.
"Evans, Zayn is miserable lately. I asked you before, what exactly did you two talk about the last time you saw him? You refused to tell me. You only said you were working on it. But look at him now, things aren’t getting better, they’re getting worse!"
For a moment, there was silence on his end. Then Evans’s voice came, low and sharp.
"If you won’t calm down, and all you want to do is be rude, then it’s better you end this call right now."