Chapter : 08

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Loren








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I sat down on the bed, my back leaning against the cold windowpane. The city lights outside blurred into a sea of colors as I gazed out, lost in my own thoughts.

Last night replayed in my mind like a never-ending loop. After feeding Harry, I was all set to retreat to my own room. But his cries and pleas for me to stay had torn at my heart. So, against my better judgment, I had stayed by his side until he finally drifted into a restless sleep.

The memory was bittersweet. I knew I couldn't linger any longer. The risk of someone finding me in his room was too great. So, with a heavy heart, I had quietly slipped away in the early hours of the morning, around 5 am.

My eyes stung from lack of sleep, and my stomach felt like an empty void. I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten properly, maybe just a sandwich on the last flight to Florence.

Sighing, I wrapped my arms around my knees, the weight of loneliness settling in. Everything felt shallow and hollow without him. I longed for my husband, but Harry was engrossed in his own demanding life.

I scolded myself mentally for such thoughts, reminding myself that Harry had his own commitments and responsibilities. He needed to focus on his work instead of babying me.


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Jenny's voice pulled me out of my reverie. "Here, have some coffee. You'll feel refreshed," she said, holding out a steaming cup. I looked up and saw her standing there with a kind smile.

I muttered a quiet "thanks" and took the coffee from her, the warmth seeping through my fingers. 

As I took a sip, Jenny continued, "Mr. Styles will come late today, but we still need to be quick. We’re going to the Uffizi Gallery."

I nodded in acknowledgment, but the coffee was too enticing to resist. I drank it hastily, too hastily, and winced as the scolding liquid burned my tongue. 

Jenny noticed my discomfort but didn't comment. Instead, she busied herself with packing some essentials into her bag. Then she paused, concern etching her features. 

"Zayn, your eyes are red. Didn't sleep well last night?"

I shrugged, not wanting to dwell on my sleepless night. I got up from the chair and began changing into a black tee and jeans, throwing a green jacket over it all and slipping into brown shoes. 

Jenny's observation was accurate; I hadn't slept much.

She didn't press further and followed me as I headed toward the door. She locked it behind us, commenting with a hint of amusement, "Sometimes I forget how little you talk."

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