Never meant to be

Chapter 7

The cottage was ideal for two people who needed to get away from the rest of the world and I fell in love with it immediately. Cindy had gone on and on about the Lyon's vacation home but nothing she'd said had done it justice. It looked like something right out of a Disney fairytale with its wooden floors and walls.

The structure itself was made of terracotta and the sloping roof was painted with a homely red colour. The garden was full of orange blossom and lavender, and keeping with the lavish Lyon's tradition, a Koi pond. There was a hammock in the garden too and that was where I spent the most of my time, soaking up the sun. Zayn, on the other hand, spent hours and hours at their private beach, swimming and surfing. He was one for water sports, that much I had figured out.

I was glad to be away from all the hustle and bustle of the city, especially after all that happened at the airport. I needed some time to think and plan what I'm going to do next. I'd realised that Mark deserved to know the truth and not Sarah's deteriorated version of it. I would tell him myself, even if that meant him hating me for the rest of his life. Zayn realised that I had some thinking to do and left me to myself; I only saw him during meals when he would cook for the both of us. Turns out Zayn was a better cook than all the chefs my mother had hired and his food soon became a drug to me. He'd cook the most delicious meals, pot roast being his speciality and I'll lick the plate clean. It was during these moments that he'd c***k a smile and his eyes would light up. It was the first time I'd seen him smile since we'd gotten married.

It was about a week of our vacation that I decided to go to the beach. I hadn't been there yet mostly because I considered it to be Zayn's place; somewhere he could go to clear his head and I don't want to deprive him of that, just like me and hammock. That day however, he said that he needed to go out of town for some business meeting and I had all the entire place to myself. I quickly slipped into my bikini, thanking my lucky stars that the weather was still warm enough to swim. I put on a light cotton dress over it and grabbed my sunglasses. I ran to the beach, excited by the prospect of being alone in the endless water and letting go of all the rigidity that had been inside me since the wedding. I was eighteen years old but I'd started to act much older. I'd become an echo of my old fun-loving self in less than a month and I wasn't okay with that. Yes, I'd suffered a huge setback; yes, my life forever had changed forever and not in a way I would have wanted but all of that had to leave my mind today. Today I was going to be the old Ami James and nothing could come my way.

I literally dashed to the beach, not knowing the behind my rather over excitement and surprising good mood and quickly took of my dress. I stepped closer to the water, tiptoeing to check the temperature and I was relieved to find out it was warm enough. I walked in slowly till the water came up to mid-thigh and enjoyed the feel of the cold water on my body.

I loved to swim and almost started to feel like the old me as I fooled around. After a while, I lowered my body and dipped my head under the water, holding my breath.

Under the water, I found calm, quiet and serenity. The only problem was, whenever I closed my eyes only one image flashed behind my eyelids: Mark's smile, Mark's eye, Mark's touch and each and every single memory I had with him. If it was possible to cry underwater then I'm sure a few tears had managed to escape my eyes. I propelled myself above the water and came out gasping for air; thinking about my ex boyfriend might not have been such a good idea, especially under water. Gone was my good mood as a foreboding feeling swept all over me. What was I doing? How could I even begin to have a good time when my life is on a downward spiral? I'm in a loveless marriage, forced upon a good, decent man. The boy who loved me more than life itself was going to get his heart broken soon and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think of a way to get out of the twisted puzzle my life had become.

I swam slowly to the shore, concentrating on the line of each stroke to divert my attention from the not-so-pleasant thoughts that were running through my head. The sand stuck to my wet feet, the grains feeling rough as they grazed my skin. I picked up my towel and dried myself. What would the old Ami do in such a situation? I asked myself and there was only one answer. In the past when things got really bad, I'd always turn to one person and I couldn't do that right now. Cindy wasn't here; she'd bailed on all of us, even her fiancé. I'd never guessed that she wasn't in love with him; If she didn't want to marry him then she would have at least told me. Something had felt off about her actions but I was never given a chance to even try to figure it out. I was simply thrust headfirst into a life I never bargained for.

I spread a blanket on the sand and laid down on it, not bothering to put my dress on. My skin needed all the vitamin D it could get from all the time I'd spent locked up in the Lyon's mansion; literally. The sunrays tingled my face and I closed my eyes, cherishing the feel of them. Soon I began to feel drowsy and didn't fight the sleep when it came. I gladly let sleep overcome me and didn't fight when it sucked me into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, my head felt groggy and heavy but I quickly realised it was nighttime and that someone had covered me up with another blanket. It took me a few seconds to adjust to the dark but as soon as I did, I also realised that it was cold outside and that my flimsy dress over my slightly damp bikini did nothing to shield me from the cold. I pulled the blanket tightly around myself, knowing exactly who'd put it on me and feeling touched by the gesture. I wandered into the house to find a mouth-watering aroma coming from the kitchen. I followed my sense to find Zayn bent over the stuff, busy concocting yet another masterpiece. I was transfixed by how he moved; the usually calculative Zayn Lyon let himself loose when it comes to cooking and it was a sight to watch. He moved with precision but there was a different kind of energy about him; he was freer and distinct, it was all very hands-on and despite the fact that I felt like a creeper watching him like

that, I stood.