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The guys begin opening doors one by one until we reach the last room at the end of the hall.

Liam takes hold of the handle and pushes the door open painfully slowly, all of us freezing in the doorway.

There, inside a massive, sterile room, lying in a hospital bed dressed in pale hospital clothes…

Is Zayn.

His eyes are open.

Locked on the door.

Then on me.

Scratches and shallow cuts mark his face, with a small dressing covering the wound on his forehead. One arm is immobilized in a cast, and dark bruises spread across his chest, interrupted by several cuts and deeper abrasions. His left leg is heavily wrapped from the knee down, the swelling visible even beneath the layers of bandaging.

He looks battered.

But he’s alive.

The moment my mind fully registers that fact, whatever was holding me together finally gives way.

A sob escapes my mouth as tears pour uncontrollably down my face. I’m trapped in the middle of the group, unable to move, my entire body trembling so hard that my legs threaten to give out beneath me again.

The only reason I don’t collapse is because several hands immediately reach for me, keeping me upright.

And Zayn…

Zayn is staring at me with tears shining in his beautiful eyes.

His head sinks back into the pillows, and a quiet curse slips from between his teeth.

“Either bring her to me,” he says hoarsely, “or I’m getting up and coming to her.”

Nobody wastes a second.

They gently guide me forward, making sure I reach his bed safely. The instant I’m close enough, Zayn reaches out with his uninjured hand and pulls me to him.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

Two fingers curl under my chin, lifting my face toward his. His blue eyes search mine carefully, as if he needs to make sure I’m really standing here in front of him.

“I’m okay.”

A short pause.

“Barely…”

“Doesn’t really look like it, huh?”

“Uh… not sure what to say.”

“Yeah, you look amazing, man.”

“If you say so.”

“You still look hot, though.”

“We’re glad that’s your conclusion.”