It was eerily quiet at Zayn’s funeral.
Sure, it was normal for funerals to be quiet, but this was different. It was dead silent. Not a rustling of leaves, not a single bird or cricket chirping. Only the low hum of sighs and sobs.
I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t feel. I was entirely numb. Drowning in numbness, I watched as they read the holy Qur’an over his coffin and prayed. It was all like a hum to me, all a blur. I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, where I held the last piece I had of Zayn.
A little piece of paper.
—-
“You know I love you more than anything, babe? I wouldn’t be able to do anything without you.” Zayn says, pulling me into his lap as we snuggled on the couch. He put his lips to my temple, leaving a soft kiss. Just as the opening credits of the movie came on, I picked up a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl in my hands and brought it up to Zayn’s lips.
“Open up.” I order, and he laughs. I’ve always loved his chuckle. It was low, throaty and husky. Distinct. Zayn’s laugh.
As I put the popcorn in his mouth, he kisses my fingertips.
“I love you.” He smiles, and gives me a quick peck.
“I love you too, Zayn.” I rest my head against his chest, and turn my attention to the screen.
—-
There were so many people here. All of Zayn’s family. Some extended family members I didn’t know. His ex-girlfriend, Perrie. More people I didn’t know. Danielle.
And of course, his bandmates. Harry, Liam, Niall, and Louis. All dressed in black. Harry, who stood next to me, took a quick glance at me.
My expression was still unreadable, numb. It’s been like this since the day he died.
His eyebrows furrowed, worried. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched under his touch.
He looked at me, concerned. “I’m sorry - I was just trying to …”
I nod, knowing he was just trying to comfort me. Harry’s always been the person to turn to when I didn’t have Zayn.
But not now. His touch felt wrong. No one’s touch could be comforting to me now.
They weren’t Zayn’s warm hands.
They weren’t Zayn’s strong and comforting arms.
It wasn’t Zayn, whispering to me that everything would be okay.
It was the ultimate emptiness: II would never get to feel Zayn’s arms around me ever again.
—-
Zayn rolled off me and onto the bed, breathing heavily.
His deep brown eyes looked into mine, and he lay there, trying to slow his breath, staring into my eyes the whole time.
A minute or so passed, and he scooted closer to me, wrapping his arms around my bare body under the duvet of his bed.
“That was…amazing…boo.” Zayn says, his breath still faster than normal. “I don’t know why you’re insecure, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He growled low in my ear. I shivered in pleasure, goosebumps erupting on my skin.
He pulled me even closer against him, so there was no space between my chest and his. I rested my head against his chest, inhaling his scent.
“I love you so much, Zayn.”
Was that not enough?
—-
One by one, Liam’s, Louis’s, and Niall’s eyes turned to me.
No smile, no nothing. Just a hint of accusation in their eyes.
It was all my fault. And I knew it.
—-
“Zayn! I miss you so much!” I whine, looking at Zayn through my computer screen. He’d been on tour for 5 months now, and although I was happy for him, I missed him like hell. I missed his arms around me, his kisses, his genuine laugh, his smile. I’ve missed him.
“I missed you too.” He yawned, tired.
“How’s touring? How’s everything?” I asked.
He yawned again. It was then when I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his unkept stubble, his messy hair, his skin, pale and sallow like it hadn’t been washed.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Everything’s fine, (Y/N), don’t worry about it.” He brushed off my question.
“Are you sure?” I press, hoping he’d let me know what was bothering him.
“It’s nothing to worry about, really, babe. It’s just tiring and exhausting and stressful to be traveling around the world like this.” He scratched his head. “But I asked for it, didn’t I, (Y/N)? I signed up for this career. And this is the life in the fast lane.” He smiled weakly, but only with his mouth. His eyes were void, exhausted.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“I’m tired, (Y/N), I’m going to go to bed.”
His words upset me - I wanted to talk to him for hours, so that he could tell me stories from touring around the world, and maybe I could tell him how life was here at home. I miss you.
But he was tired, and even though we had only been on skype for a few minutes, it was better than nothing.
I managed to pull up my lips into a smile, to pretend to be okay. I just really missed him.
“Ok, Zayn. Take care. I love you.”
“I love you too, babe, see you soon.” He says sleepily.
“Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?” I joke.
“Never.”
“Only two more months, right?” I ask.
“Only two more months, and touring will be over.” He assures me.
“Good. Goodnight, Zayn. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And with that he signed off, and I was left staring at the blank screen of my computer.
—-
I knew it was my fault. But their accusing stares hurt.
I looked away, realizing that they were lowering the coffin into the dark grave.
A stifled cry came from the direction of Zayn’s mother, and she covered her mouth with a hand, falling to her knees as they lowered the coffin.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!” She wailed, her expression pained and distraught.
Her husband and eldest daughter, Doniya, crouched down next to her, supporting her. She brought up her soft hands to her face, a trail of tears streaming down her cheek.
I looked at my feet. My eyes didn’t water. I didn’t feel sad. I just felt dead and numb. I kicked at the dirt, unsure of how to act. What was wrong with me?
My fist closed tightly around the little sheet of paper in the pocket of my jacket.
—-
I jumped into his arms, hugging him, and catching him off-guard. I didn’t care if the whole airport was staring at us, or taking pictures. It was just me and Zayn now. Just us. And the taste of Zayn’s lips on mine.
“Hey.” Zayn smiles, whispering in my ear as he pulled me into a tighter hug.
I noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’ve missed you.” I peck his lips, and grab hold of his forearm. “Let’s go. I have a surprise for you.”
He cocked his eyebrows, curious. Picking up his bags, we walk out of the airport, escorted by his security team. He was unusually quiet, as if he were upset or something.
I decided it was best not to bother him about it, not to ask.
When we reached home, he set down his bags on the couch, and looked up at me. “What’s that smell?”
“I don’t know,” I say teasingly, “come see for yourself.” I make my way to the kitchen, Zayn only a few feet behind me.
“You made samosas?”** He chuckles, eyeing the food I had prepared earlier.
“Maaaaayyyyyyybeeee.” I laugh. “But go clean up! Then you can come eat.” I say, blocking his way from getting to the food.
Dodging me quickly, he snatches one, a brings it to his mouth, smirking.
I laugh, giving in. “Fine, you can have ONE. But then you have to go get clean and cozy.”
Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he coughed. Choked, really. He quickly made his way to the trash can, spitting out the samosa.
“Water!” He barely manages to say, still coughing.
I ran over to the refrigerator, grabbing a water bottle. Zayn was washing his mouth out at the sink, so I quickly rushed over to him with the bottle in my hand.
“Here!” I say, giving him the water bottle. “Are you okay?”
He took a long drink of the water, his face slightly red.
Setting the bottle down on the counter, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That…”
I looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
“…was spicy as fuck.”
I burst into a fit of laughter.
“You…scared…the…shit…out…of…me!” I laughed, relieved.
“That…was not…funny!” Zayn laughed. “You try it!” He pointed to the samosas, then took another long drink from the bottle.
“But it was funny! And, no, I’d rather not. I believe you when you said it was spicy.” I giggled.
Zayn chuckled and put his arms around me.
I tried to wiggle out of his arms teasingly, but Zayn tightened his grip, restraining my back against his chest.
Slowly his lips traced down my jaw, down to my neck, and to the crook of my neck. Placing a light kiss where I craved it most, he chuckled. Bringing his lips back to my ear, he whispered seductively “You order something to eat and I’ll go shower, ok? Then we can do whatever.”
”Whatever?” I smile suggestively.
”Whatever.” He pressed his lips against my temple, knowing I loved his kisses there.
And with that, he let go of me, and walked out of the kitchen.
Slightly dazed, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Hello, China King at your service, what can I get you today?”
“Hey, this is (Y/N). Can I get the usual?”
—-
Zayn’s coffin was completely inside the grave now.
The piece of paper I held on to was both comforting and heartbreaking. How could one little piece of paper be two completely different things?
—-
“Shit! They’re positive, Zayn, they’re positive!” I stared at the 3 pregnancy tests in my hand, all looking up at me with a ‘+’.
“Are you sure?” Zayn asked through the bathroom door.
“Yes!” A small sob escaped my lips. I wasn’t ready for this. I was much too young. Would Zayn leave me?
“Open the door, babe.”
I unlocked the door, and slid down to the floor of the bathroom.
His body slid down next to me on the floor, putting his arm around my shoulder.
“(Y/N), everything’s going to alright, yeah? We can book an appointment with the doctor, tomorrow, to see what we can do, okay?” He says softly.
I nod, calming myself. Everything was going to be alright. Zayn would be here. He’d always be here for me.
—-
How dare he.
Red-hot anger rushed through me. I realized that the funeral was over, that people were giving their condolences to his family while I stood there, still staring at the spot he was buried under.
How dare he leave me.
—-
“That’s definitely an embryo, ma’am.” The doctor said as he looked out the pictures from the ultrasound.
Zayn’s face was unreadable, looking at me. He held my hand in his as I lay on the bed.
I was so afraid he was going to leave me. I didn’t blame him, though.
“You need to make sure you eat healthy, and take prenatal vitamins. Here is the prescription for those, sir.” He said, handing a slip of paper to Zayn.
I got into the car after leaving the doctor’s office. Throughout the entire ride home, Zayn didn’t say anything.
I was quiet except for the silent tears that ran down my cheeks. I couldn’t bear the thought of Zayn leaving me. What if he did?
Stopping at a red traffic light, Zayn looked over at me. His expression softened.
“Don’t cry, love.” He wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb.
I remained silent, which brought on more tears.
“Why are you crying?” He questioned me softly.
I just shook my head, allowing more tears to flow down my cheeks.
“Listen, (Y/N), I’ll be here for you the whole time. From start to finish, okay? I’m not going to leave you. Besides, I have seven months before we start touring again.”
His words were the most comforting thing I could hear. They erased my fears, and I knew that he would be here for me.
I slipped my hand into his, and he held it tightly as we continued our way to the flat.
—-
A hand brushed against my back, and I snap out of my thoughts.
Harry wore a worried expression as he looked into my eyes, his lips slightly parted.
“(Y/N), everyone’s gone. C’mon.” He said softly.
I nod silently, and he puts a hand on my back, guiding me to the car.
He opens the door of his car for me, and I get inside.
I can’t feel. I am completely numb.
As he got on the road, his fingers tapped on his leg silently. His eyes were red, bloodshot.
He cleared his throat. “Do you…want to…come over to my flat? You can stay with me if you need to.”
I shook my head.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. I couldn’t form any words.
“And you’ll be okay?”
I nodded. I wanted to be alone.
He sighed.
A few minutes passed before he spoke again.
“How many….months are you?”
I swallowed slowly. “Six.”
He nodded, and sniffled a bit.
As he turned onto the driveway of…Zayn’s flat, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
I opened the door, and got out of the car.
“If you need anything, call me. I’ll be here right away, okay?” He assured me.
I couldn’t believe him. I wouldn’t. Just like… Zayn. Zayn said he’d be here for me. The whole time. He promised. And that was a fucking lie.
I nodded, and turned to walk up to the door and unlock it.
As Harry drove off, I realized that no one would be here for me.
I knew now that I would be on my own, for everything. I didn’t need anyone.
Anger rushed through me again, blinding me.
How dare he leave me.
—-
As my belly got bigger and bigger, Zayn got more distant.
Maybe I was just imagining things, being paranoid.
But I was so worried he’d leave me.
When he came back late one night, I confronted him about it.
“Zayn…is everything okay between us?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
He let out a long sigh before answering. “Yeah, why?”
I bit my lip, hoping I wouldn’t cry. Tears were threatening to spill.
“Because.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “You’re always so quiet lately. We never really talk. For God’s sake, Zayn, we live in the same fucking place, and we barely say a word to each other!”
His silence gave me courage to go on.
“You’re always out of the house, ‘chilling’ with your friends, but every time I see your friends, they ask me where you’ve been! They say they haven’t seen you in forever!” My voice was high, wavering.
“Listen, (Y/N), I -“
“No, you listen, Zayn! I don’t know what you’re doing behind my back, or who you’re seeing, but I don’t want t-“
“Wait! You think I’m cheating on you?” He demanded. He had cornered me to a wall, him only a few inches from me. He towered over me, and I felt so little next to him.
“Yeah.” I sqeaked.
He exhaled sharply, and walked over to the couch, and sat down. His silence only added to my fears.
“Look, (Y/N), I just haven’t been feeling myself lately. I’ve been stressed, I hate being a celebrity. You have to understand, it’s so hard always being under the constant eye of everyone. No privacy. Fuck, I’d do anything to go back to normal.”
I waited for him continue, and he did.
His voice rose. “I love my job. I love singing. I’m just so sick and tired of having to please everyone! It’s fucking frustrating to have to meet everyone’s standards, okay? I have to be back on tour in 3 months! And I can’t do it anymore!”
His expression softened, and so did his voice. “I’m not cheating on you, (Y/N), I never will. I’m just tired of dealing with all this shit.”
I instantly felt guilty of accusing him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.accused you of anything, I was just worr-“
“It’s fine, (Y/N), don’t worry about it. I can’t blame you. I know I’ve been distant lately. I’m sorry, babe.”
I walked over to where he was sitting and sat down next to him. He put his arm around me, and kissed my cheek.
“I love you.” He whispered in my ear. “Our daughter is going to be lovely.”
I smiled, and remembered our little daughter growing inside of me.
“You know, she kicks every once in a while? It’s very light and she only kicks every once in a while, but you can feel it if you’re lucky.” I smiled.
“Really?” His face lit up. I realized that I hadn’t seen him genuinely happy in a long time. Oh, how I missed that smile.
I nod, and put his hand to my belly.
And for the rest of that evening, we sat together, waiting for our little angel to kick.
—-
I dropped my bag on the couch - the same couch we had sat on together, watching movies, cuddling, and even that time when we had sat together, feeling for our baby’s kicks.
But that was a long time ago. Before he left me.
—-
Everytime I asked what was wrong, he would avoid my question.
“Zayn, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, love. Don’t worry.”
“Zayn, I’m serious.”
“Is the baby moving alot? Is she hurting you? How do you feel?”
And he’d always get me sidetracked.
—-
It’d been a two and a half months since the funeral, and I was nearing my last weeks as an expecting mother.
Harry was coming over to visit me, like he normally does these days. As I got up to go to the bathroom and attempt to look a bit decent, my thoughts drifted.
One Direction’s tour had been postponed until further notice, but it didn’t matter. I spoke to Zayn’s family every once in a while, to make sure they were doing okay. I hadn’t spoken to Liam, Niall, or Louis since the funeral, and the only reason I spoke to Harry was because he had forcefully come over regularly and tried to get me to feel better, even though at first, I hated him for it.
He had come over and over again, had always been there when I needed him.
Not like that fucking selfish bastard.
I winced at my thoughts.
—-
He refused to eat. I’d make his favorite dishes, and he’d take a bite out of it, play around with his food for a bit, and then excuse himself.
Zayn kept losing weight.
I kept telling myself he was okay, and he assured me that he was.
Even though deep down, I knew he wasn’t.
—-
My phone buzzed. A text. From Harry.
I’ll be over in a few.
I replied, and hit send.
Ok.
He was knocking at my door only 5 minutes later, and I welcomed him in.
He put his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.
He smiled. “I can’t give you a proper hug anymore, (Y/N). Your belly is getting in the way.” He chuckled lightly.
“Yeah, I know.” I smiled sadly. “Come in, I made some food.”
Right before I reached the kitchen, a sharp pain shot through my core. I looked down to see a trail of wet fluid going down my pants.
Harry’s eyes widened. “(Y/N)!” He pointed to my pants.
“Oh my god, she’s coming!” I yell out, more pain shooting through my body.
“Let’s get you to the car!” He put his arms around me, shifting my weight against his.
Struggling, he got me inside his car, and looked at me worriedly. “Did you pack any bags or anything?” He demanded.
“Next to the couch! Aaaaahhh!” I moaned in pain.
He quickly made his way up to the flat and went inside.
In under 2 minutes, he was already in the car, driving us to the hospital.
Later that night, Laila - meaning lovely night in arabic- opened her familiar brown eyes to this world for the first time, her features a spitting image of someone I had loved so much.
—-
“I’ll never leave you, ok?” His voice was soft, comforting.
But he was wasting away.
—-
After I got back home, Harry became the fatherly figure Zayn couldn’t be for Laila. He was constantly over, helping out when I was exhausted, doing everything I couldn’t keep up with. He eventually stopped leaving.
Trisha, Zayn’s mother, and the rest of Zayn’s family visited often. They adored Laila.
Laila was like a bittersweet gift - bitter because she looked so much like her father, and sweet because we could have a part of Zayn left with us.
Just like the little piece of paper he left behind for me.
Laila was just another thing he had left behind.
—
“Zayn, I made dinner. Please eat?” I begged.
He nodded as he opened the door the the bathroom. “I will. I just want to take a quick shower.”
“No, Zayn. I really want you to eat. You never eat anymore.”
“I do too.” He retorted defensively.
I crossed my arms. “No, Zayn, you don’t.” My voice lowered to an almost whisper. “You’ve lost so much weight, Zayn. I’m worried.” I whispered painfully, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Look, (Y/N), I told you, I’m fine!” He said angrily. Glancing at how stressed I looked, his expression softened.
“Look, (Y/N), don’t worry okay? Everything is…fine.” He put his bony arms around me, and kissed my hair.
Then his voiced dropped to barely a whisper. “And just know that whatever happens, I love you.”
It was as if he was telling me something more, but I ignored it.
—
Laila was two years old now. Harry slept on the couch, leaving me to the comfort of my room. He never left anymore, only to get groceries and other necessary things. He said he wanted to make sure Laila was alright - but I knew he was worried about me.
But I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. That was the last thing I needed.
After I had finally put Laila to sleep, I walked to the bedroom, our bedroom, and shut the door behind me.
I usually made sure I busied myself enough so I didn’t have time to think of those last memories - the ones that hurt the most, out purely of worry that Laila might get frightened by my reaction, or Harry upset, but sometimes, I couldn’t help myself.
Fresh, hot tears spilled as I went over the most painful memories as I laid in bed under the covers. I attempted to swallow the stupid lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go. A choked sob escaped my mouth, and I pulled a hand to my mouth, attempting to quiet myself. I couldn’t wake up Laila now, she had just finally fallen asleep. And I didn’t want to worry Harry, who was sleeping in the living room.
More broken sobs left my mouth, and then I was sobbing uncontrollably, curled up in a small ball on the side of our bed.
In the dark of our room, I remembered.
—
I went to the kitchen to set up the table for the dinner I would make sure Zayn would eat.
He couldn’t keep wasting away. It wasn’t healthy. He was all skin and bones now.
The house was abnormally quiet as I set down the plates.
Until I heard a heavy thump from the bathroom.
—
Laila was crying again. It was probably 3AM, and I hadn’t gotten a bit of sleep. I was wide awake, flashbacks of Zayn’s death haunting me.
I got out of bed, wiping away the tears as I made my way to Laila’s room. As I entered the hallway, I bumped into something hard and warm. Harry.
“You want me to get her, dear?” He asked softly.
“Please do.” I responded quietly. “I need to step out for a bit.”
He nodded, and wrapped his arms around me for a quick second. “Be safe, okay?”
He let me go, and I made my way to the door, grabbing my jacket and the note on the way out.
As I walked on the sidewalk, my thoughts drifted, my feet carrying me along a familiar path.
—
I walked to the bathroom, my pace quickening with every step.
The door was locked. I throttled the door knob, creating a rattling sound.
He never locked the door.
“Zayn,” I half-yelled. “You okay?”
No answer.
“ZAYN!” I screamed, panicking as I shook the door, so hard it broke open, revealing the most horrific scene I had witnessed in all of my life.
—
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Hot, salty tears streamed down my cheeks, as I realized where I was. I knew exactly where I had walked to. Of course I did. I closed my eyes, a sob escaping my lips. Opening my eyes slowly, I looked down at the gray stone that read “Zayn Javadd Malik”.
—
Zayn lay on the floor of the bathroom, covered in dark red blood, lifeless. Cuts scattered his body. His soft brown eyes were open and hauntingly blank. I ran to him and picked him up by the shoulders, shaking him.
“ZAYN! ZAYN! Zayn, please, no, no, no no no no!” I cried, sobbing. His body was limp, and I didn’t have to check his pulse to know he had already slipped away from me. “Zayn, Zayn, please nooooo!!!! Stay with me, please, please.” I begged, my tears dropping onto his pale and lifeless face.
“Please, Zayn.”
Covered in his blood, the last thing I heard was my own scream, “ZAYYYYNNNNNNNNNN!!”
And then all was black.
—
I stood in front of his grave, his tear-stained note in my left hand, and my note in the right.
“Remember one thing,” I hissed into the foggy navy blue night, “There are no fairy tale endings.”
—
His note read simply.
“(Y/N),
I’m sorry it came to this. There was nothing anyone could have done for me. You were perfect…I was not. You will raise our daughter perfectly, I know the boys and my family will help. I love you so much, (Y/N). And even though I won’t be here I’ll always be with you.
I love you,
Zayn”
—
I read his note one last time, although this time adding an ending of my own.
“Zayn Malik, ladies and gents. Leaving his pregnant girlfriend like it’s his job.” I was still hissing.
My note was far more simple. I laid out the facts. I spat the truth.
That had always been my job.
—
I hadn’t let anyone else read his note. Not until I let Harry in.
“Fuck. This is what he left you with? Just this? Fucking selfish bastard!” Harry spat, his green eyes angry.
I winced at his words.
“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). It’s not your fault. Do you hear me? It isn’t your fault.” He wrapped me in one of his signature hugs, warm and comforting.
I wasn’t sure I believed him.
—
I pulled the sleek silver gun out of my pocket, examining it, its barrel catching the moonlight.
So this is where it all ends.
I raised the gun to my temple, the temple where Zayn had always placed his soft kisses.
I love you, Laila.
As the crack of the gun sounded, I collapsed onto his grave, the last of my life slipping away.
I loved you too, Zayn.
I loved you.
A/N: Let me know what you think! Like, reblog, follow, give me feedback! & thank you Abby with helping me out with editing & finishing it! (:
-Izzy XX
