Icarus | Z.M.

73 | Lily

Zayn Malik

One week of watching them together, one week of watching some other cunt call my girl his, one week of torture.

It had been a week since Vic's wedding.

I had barely gotten a second alone with her since. The past seven days had been hectic, she was moving into a new house halfway across the city, there was a lot of driving back and forth, transporting what little possessions she was allowed to take with her. She took her wardrobe, some things for Cujo and a few personal belongings that she had voiced her concern about not being allowed to have.

Vic liked her own space, she liked that in her house she had her own room that she could decorate how she wanted. Now she was moving into a stranger's house, a new room in a place she didn't know. She had been putting on a brave face but I knew she was terrified.

Luckily, however, she had her own room as of right now. I'd heard her husband voice the fact he didn't feel they should share a room until they had officiated the marriage. He wanted to have sex with her and she had come up with excuses here and there not to or had brushed off any time he had tried to make a move or suggest they do.

It was almost impossible for me to stand and watch as he tried to flirt with her and invite her into his room, for her to say she was tired or say something along the lines of her not wanting to have sex until they were ready for children. Every time he tried to persuade her to change her mind, I had to hold myself back from beating him to death with my bare hands. He would huff and dismiss her, clearly annoyed by it.

As long as I was here, he was not going to be touching her, not unless she wanted it. And even then, I'd probably still beat him to death. Watching them dance, watching him kiss her when I had noticed her subtly pull back had me ready to pull the trigger with the barrel of a gun at his forehead.

Standing at my position in the doorway of whatever room she was in, I watched them interact. They were both dressed nicely, Vic looked beautiful and I hadn't gotten a chance to tell her that yet.

It was a nice house, I would give the cunt that. The fireplace was alive, hot flames danced from the burning logs. It was made from old stone and travelled entirely up the wall. The room was warm and the fire made it seem cosier, even though this one room is bigger than my entire apartment. The walls were dark red with golden details that just made everything look richer, an antique clock was displayed on top of the stone fireplace, and above that, the head of a stag was mounted on the wall. Beneath my feet was an elegant Persian rug that my boots had left dirt on.

It was later in the evening, the sun had set and I could smell whatever it was that their personal chef was making them for dinner. Victoria was sitting on one of the luxury leather couches, her feet tucked up beneath her, curled up in a small ball on a massive couch. Tate was sitting at a desk on the opposite side of the room, working on his computer with a small desk lamp beside him. Neither of them had spoken a word for the better part of an hour. Victoria was reading her favourite book, she had brought basically an entire library with her, something to keep her entertained while her husband ignored her existence because she wouldn't sleep with him.

When my phone buzzed, I glanced down to see the notification I had been waiting on for the past half an hour. As soon as I read the message on my screen, I felt my heart begin to race out of nerves. I swallowed and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

"Ms Irvine." I spoke up, the first voice to sound out in this room for over an hour. Cujo was asleep in his bed by her feet, he woke up to the sound of my voice. That name, it almost made me gag every time I said it.

Both people in the room looked up at me, wondering why I had spoken. She closed her book and sat up, her eyes met mine in curiosity. I never really addressed either of them, I didn't speak unless spoken to.