Never meant to be

Chapter 5

On Zayn's hand was my phone, the screen had a c***k though and the back was dented heavily. I had made sure to rended it completely useless so that I wouldn't be tempted to call him or return any of his phone calls. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you see it, I could never remember phone numbers and without the help of my cell phone, there was a slim rather no chance of ever contacting Mark again.

He held the phone up, examining it then he looked up at me for an explanation. I shrugged casually and said, “it fell”. He paused his lips for some moment and it looked like he was going to ask more questions, like he actually cared but then he changed his mind. He pocketed my phone and nodded. “I'll get you a new one. I'll take this so that they can take out the sim card.” I was about to say no but then nationality got the best of me. I don't need to give him a reason to get curious, not that he ever would. He exited my room and left me all alone again.

I switched on the TV. Laying down on d bed, I let the voices of the reporters became background noise and closed my eyes. It was a technique that helped; as the reporters spoke, I conjure up the images in line to their words. This kept certain images from flashing in my head till I fall asleep.

The next day, the butler and the rest of the help hovered around me, helping me pack. I had no idea what to do since my mom had always done my packing if we ever took a trip. I let Mrs. Hotch go through my things and decided what I was going to take. Zayn had already packed and I was told he was having breakfast in the dining room downstairs. I never joined him for any meal and I prefer it be brought to my room. This morning however, I had the urge to just leave my room and go sit with him. Somehow I was hoping leaving the city would bring a change between him and I. I wasn't expecting us to fall in love, far from it. But maybe we could learn to get along and find a solution to the situation we both found ourselves.

“Miss, Mr Zayn is waiting for you downstairs,” said a meek little voice and I saw a young girl, barely 17, looking at me with a frightened eyes. I smiled warmly at her and nodded. It was time to leave and I for one couldn't wait to be out of this house. Walking down, I saw a lot of our luggages had already been loaded into the car and that Zayn was tapping his foot impatiently, leaning against the door frame. I hurried downstairs, the sound of my heels drawing his attention. With a bored expression on his face, he signaled the driver to bring the car to the front of the house and left without sparing me a glance. I glared at his retreating figure and stopped myself from stomping my foot. Who does he think he is, could he not even say a “hello”?

“Did you pack everything you need?” he asked me once we were in the car and heading to the airport. I nodded and turned my face away from him.

“Are you sure?” he asked again. “I don't want to have to turn all the way back just because you forgot a brush or something” I rolled my eyes and before I could stop myself, I uttered the words, “I'm not Cindy.” I bit my lips as soon as I'd said that and watched my husband clenched his fists. I wanted to apologize but somehow the words never left my mouth. I didn't feel like I owed him anything, not even an apology.

The rest of the journey went by in silence and soon, we were at the airport, checking in. Zayn was taking care of everything, treating me like a child who couldn't be trusted to handle such a responsibility. I wanted to tell him that I had travel alone plenty of times but seeing my earlier slip-up, I kept my mouth shut and let him do what he wanted. After we had checked in, we headed for the waiting area with Zayn walking at least twenty steps ahead of me. I rolled my eyes and trudged after him, focusing my eyes on the back of his head. I was concentrating so much on glaring at him that I didn't notice another person walking towards me. I only realized it when I barged right into the person and her things fell to the ground, making a loud noise. Zayn turned to see the cause of the commotion and groaned when he realized i was involved in it. I bent down to help pick up the things the woman in front of me had dropped, muttering sorry constantly.

It was only when I was handing her some papers that I got a chance to see who she was. One look at her and I froze, I wished the ground would open up that moment and swallow me up or for some magic to just happen and for time to reverse. I could hear my heart pounding and the heavy thudding inside my chest. The woman had just turned 21 and was staring at me with her mouth wide open. But before any of us could get a chance to talk, Zayn came and stood beside me, looking as polite as ever.

“I'm so sorry for my wife's clumsiness, I hope nothing was damaged?” He said, pointing to the laptop she carried in her arms. I had gotten it for her on her birthday, in her favorite color red. The red of the laptop now matches the color of her face as she glowered at me. Zayn just called me his wife, she must have picked that up. I had to explain things to her before she'd got furious and told him. I opened my mouth to speak, my eyes watering slightly but she beat me to the punch. Her hand made contact with my cheek and it stung where she hit me. The pain made my already watery eyes poured with tears and I said in a shaky voice, “Sarah, please this isn't what it looks like”

“You b***h!” she raised her hand to hit me again and that was when Zayn came to his senses and stood in front of me protectively, catching her wrist just in time.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he hissed at her, his eyes raging.

“I'm giving this cheating w***e what she deserves,” she replied, her tone acidic.

Zayn looked at me, then at her. He stared at me again and while backing Sarah.

“Amelia what's going on?” he asked me, the anger and embarrassment evident in his tone. Everyone in the area was staring at us and Zayn's was so red from what we've just put him through.

I looked down wondering whether to tell him the truth or not. But with Sarah being here right now, the truth is better.

“I used to date her brother”.

I said, each word feeling like it had echoed a million times.