“Why didn’t you use a condom?”
“I didn’t even think of it,” Zayn says, as if he’s just as surprised by the answer as I am. He shifts his weight to one side and runs a hand through his hair. I roll off him and onto my back.
“You don’t have to worry,” I say quickly, averting my gaze to the ceiling. “About a baby I mean. I’m, ah, I can’t get… pregnant.”
I’m suddenly very interested in Zayn’s room, half cast indarkness, half lit by moonlight. It’s a massive room, almost half the size of my apartment, if I was to guess. Minimalist, styled to perfection so that the spaciousness doesn’t feel cold but luxurious with decadent sheer curtains and dark wood furniture. I investigate it thoroughly to avoid the yawning pit that’s opened up in my gut. I can’t look at Zayn.
“You’re on the pill?”
“Nope.” I shrug. “No need,” I say, my voice unnaturally upbeat.
“You’re... infertile?”
I flinch at the word. I can’t tell if he sounds relieved or devastated. Both are equally undesirable.
“Yep,” I say, noticing an opening on the far wall that leads into a walk-in-robe. You would think that would be wasted on a man, but I bet Zayn has enough bespoke suits to fill it right up.
Zayn’s fingers grasp my chin and he draws my face towards him.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is earnest as he searches my face, a frown playing between his brows. I inspect my fingernails and absently pick at the red polish Anna spent ages applying perfectly last night.
“Don’t be. Imagine if I had a baby with Daniel? It’s for the best, really.” I let out a small laugh, but Zayn isn’t buying any of my shit. I should have known better than to think I could fool him.
“I know how much you want kids, Gianna.”
I shuffle away from his grasp.
“Yes, well, at least you don’t have to worry about using condoms.” I sit on the edge of his bed, giving him my back as my chest caves in. How did we go from pure bliss to this ugly conversation in a matter of moments?
Zayn stays quiet, and I’m wondering if he’s reassessingthe declaration he gave me not even an hour ago. I can’t give him kids. Daniel and I tried for over a year. I have unexplained infertility.
Telling Zayn is like having an old wound cut open, wider. It’s better for him to know now though.
“I’m broken,” I try to joke, but it falls flat. “You’ll have to go back to Monica if it’s babies you want.”
“Fuck Monica.” Zayn’s voice is so cold I flinch again. “Stop telling me to go be with other women. It’s pissing me off.”
I freeze as Zayn moves off the bed and pulls on a pair of black briefs, and I become very aware that all I have on is my thong, which has been shoved to the side and rides uncomfortably up my ass. I cover my chest with my arms as Zayn comes and sinks to his haunches before me, his dark eyes level with mine.
“The only one with the power to walk away from this is you,” he says calmly. “You might decide this isn’t what you want, Gianna, but this is it for me.Youare it for me.”
His words floor me, but it’s the resolute look in his eyes that leaves me stunned.
“What about all the other women you’ve been with?” I ask quietly, my voice laced with insecurity I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to shake. “Why me and not one of them?”
His head drops and a sigh escapes his lips.
“It’s always been you, Gianna,” he says, defeated, like he isn’t particularly happy about it. Then the muscles in his shoulders ripple as he draws a long, slow breath.
“I found out you were married when I was twenty one,” he says, lifting his head to meet mine. My stomach weakens at the anguish on his beautiful face. “I had finally got social media, but couldn’t find you online no matter how many times and different ways I tried. I eventually reached out toPercy, who told me he heard a rumour you got married, but didn’t know who to. I’m starting to wonder now if he did know but didn’t want to tell me.”
A shiver runs down my spine knowing that Zayn was searching for me back when I married Daniel, thinking he had well and truly moved on. Zayn notices, and thinking it’s from the cold, stands and disappears into his wardrobe, reappearing a moment later with a black hoodie. He helps me put it over my head and it falls over me like a dress. Vanilla and sandalwood envelopes me as I wrap my arms around my chest and ignore the way wearing Zayn’s clothes makes me feel. He sinks back down in front of me and continues like he wasn’t interrupted. “I hadn’t touched another woman except you before then. But when I found out you were married, I lost it.”
His eyes are imploring as he says, “I never used women. I was always open and honest about the fact I wasn’t looking for anything more than one night, and they were all okay with that. I couldn’t connect with any of them past a physical level.”
He swallows and casts his gaze back down. “I tried, but I didn’t see their faces. I closed my eyes and they were all you.”
His confession rocks me. A gasp escapes my lips. “What about Monica? She was more than one night. She told me.”
