Zayn smiled at Meher, a fleeting curve that didn't reach his eyes, then rolled them, shifting expressions with the effortless precision of a chameleon. The motion was almost irritating in its perfection.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he muttered under his breath, "Disgusting." Without looking up, he commanded, "Faqair, sit in the passenger seat."
Faqair hesitated, sensing the sharp coldness in Zayn's tone, but he said nothing. He slid into the seat beside him, the leather cool under his fingers, and lowered himself carefully, trying to keep the quiet from turning heavy.
Zayn pressed the accelerator, and the car jerked forward. The wind outside whipped past, but inside, the air was thick with unspoken words.
Faqair turned toward the window, letting the city blur past as he drifted into his own thoughts. Inaya's words, her laugh, the tilt of her smile—each memory replayed relentlessly, a scene he couldn't look away from, no matter how hard he tried.
The sudden halt of the car startled him. Zayn had stopped sharply in front of a clothing store. He unbuckled his seat belt with precise, deliberate movements.
"Wait here. I'll be back in two, three minutes," he said, stepping out. The door slammed, leaving a resonating echo in the quiet car.
Faqair opened his mouth, about to speak, but the words died in his throat. He let out a soft sigh, fingers brushing against the seatbelt as if it could anchor him. He was about to follow Zayn when his eyes caught the rearview mirror.
The sight stole his breath. His shirt—still soaked in blood—stared back at him like an accusation. Quietly, he clicked the seat belt back in place and remained seated, heart thudding unevenly in his chest.
Inside the shop, Zayn moved quickly, decisively. He selected a grey T-shirt and a pair of black pants, paid without hesitation, and returned. Without a word, he opened the door, tossing the clothes onto Faqair's lap before resuming his place behind the wheel."Change. Quickly," he ordered, his voice clipped, firm.
Faqair blinked, startled. "Ah… thank you," he murmured softly.
Zayn didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the road, cold and unwavering.
Faqair awkwardly changed into the clean clothes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "By the way… you've got good taste," he said softly and a little embarassed."I know," Zayn replied without inflection, eyes forward, tone colder than the wind outside.
Faqair couldn't suppress a wider grin.
The car hummed along as they drove, city lights streaking past the windows. Zayn glanced at him once, brief and calculating, then spoke without preamble.
"Everyone's going to work overtime today. We can't fall behind," he said. His tone was flat, precise, leaving no room for argument.
Faqair blinked, slightly startled. "Oh… I didn't know," he admitted softly, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him.Zayn didn't say anything, eyes back on the road, but the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable. Faqair's thoughts lingered on Inaya, a gentle ache in his chest. The city lights passed, but her smile lingered, brighter than any streetlamp.
Finally, Zayn slowed and pulled up in front of the company building, cutting the engine with a soft click. He turned slightly toward Faqair.
"After the meeting, go straight to Grandpa. He's been worried about you," Zayn said firmly.
Faqair kept his gaze on the city beyond, lost in thought, the faintest trace of a smile still lingering on his lips.
Zayn's eyes caught it. He leaned back, folding his arms, silent, unyielding—a predator watching.
A soft ding from Faqair's phone broke the tension. He turned, startled to meet Zayn's unwavering gaze, eyebrow arched in silent question.
Faqair's heart raced. "Uh—wh-when did we… arrive?" he stammered.
"Where's your mind wandering?" Zayn asked, voice low and sharp.
"Nowhere. Not anywhere," Faqair muttered quickly, forcing composure.
"Really?" Zayn arched a brow."You weren't asleep," Zayn cut in, voice dry and precise, "and you weren't unconscious either. Then tell me… whose memories had you smiling like that, huh?"
Faqair's cheeks warmed. He hesitated, then let out a nervous laugh. "No one's. Really, no one's."
Zayn's eyes narrowed, dripping with sarcasm. "From the hospital till here… all you've done is blush. No one, huh?"
Caught, Faqair chuckled, running a hand over his flushed face. "Is it that obvious? Well… never mind. Aren't we getting late for the meeting? I'll park the car, you go inside."
Zayn gave him a look that said everything his words did not. Silent, unyielding, it promised: I'll see you at home. I won't let this go, brother.
Faqair met his gaze, feigning ignorance. He slid into the driver's seat as Zayn stepped out.
Without another word, Zayn walked toward the building. Faqair exhaled, hands gripping the wheel, heart still racing, the ghost of Inaya's smile lingering—fragile, unshakable, like a secret only he carried.
***
To be continued...