Back To Life (Zayn Malik Fanfic)

chapter twelve

Mia's POV

The gentle music of the waves lapping against the boat was the first sound to greet me as I awoke. Outside, the melodious chirping of birds stirred me from my slumber. A warm ray of sunlight seeped through the small porthole and delicately touched my forehead.

His breath is warm and gentle, feathering across the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. My back snuggled against his broad chest, his slumber punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Each exhalation sends a shiver of goosebumps down my arms, the air tickling the soft hairs across my nape.

I glanced down, noticing that I'm wearing Zayn's white long sleeve. Noting that i fell asleep naked, he must've put it on me while i was in slumber. His hand laid heavy and relaxed, extending from my side across my stomach, the inky black word 'love' etched in flowing cursive across his knuckles.

With curiosity, I reached across, and my thumb glided over the smooth, slightly calloused skin, tracing the familiar lettering.

The word, though simple in appearance, held a vast ocean of meaning, a testament to the profound bond we shared. A wave of warmth washed over me, a quiet contentment that firmly tethered me to the present moment.

Maybe he is what i need right now. Maybe we can be more than friends.

The jarring vibration of my phone on the nightstand jolted me from my thoughts. The screen glared at me, displaying the ominous words, "St. Hospital." The hospital where i took the x-rays.

Fuck.

With a soft sigh, I gently lifted his heavy hand and eased myself off the mattress. Clutching the phone tightly, I tiptoed past the doorway, casting a fleeting glance back as he stirred slightly amidst the sheets, his relaxed form sprawled on his back. Soft breaths escaped his lips as his eyes remained peacefully shut.

As I strolled towards the yacht's stern, I answered the call. A woman with an inquisitive voice requested my identification, which I promptly provided. The rhythmic tapping of her typing echoed through the phone, blending with the gentle caress of the sea breeze against my shoulders and the sun's warmth on my cheeks.

"Doctor Hernandez wanted me to call you to see if you could come in to discuss the X-rays." As she spoke, a whirlwind of questions erupted within me, each one more unsettling than the last.

This call, I knew deep down, carried no good news. It was an ominous summons, a precursor to an unknown but unsettling reality. My heart sank as tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. She paused for a moment, checking if I was still on the line. Through a choked voice, I confirm my presence.

"Perfect," she chirped in a tone that seemed jarringly cheerful, "how does 1 pm sound?" Her words struck a discordant note against the turmoil within me. This was no occasion for levity, no moment for cheerfulness. I had hoped against hope that the doctor's call would never come, but here I was, facing the inevitable.

"Okay," I muttered softly, still reeling from the nurse's call. Before I could even process the situation, she thanked me for confirming the appointment and hung up, leaving me with an hour and a half to waste until the dreaded visit.

Determined to keep Zayn from worrying, I quickly sent a text to Jess, who was fortunately at the shop. I informed her about the nurse's call and asked her to pick me up, hoping for some solace and distraction before facing the uncertainty that lay ahead.

As I awaited Jess's reply, I tiptoed back into the room, finding Zayn sprawled on his stomach, his back a canvas of intricate tattoos. His arms tucked beneath his pillow, and his side profile exuded an air of serene slumber. His long eyelashes fanned out gracefully against his cheek, and his tousled hair framed his forehead, accentuating the delicate movement of his lips as he breathed softly.