Strings and Schemes

Chapter 33

Zayn smirks. "Oh, we plan to."

I exhale, knowing the hardest part is yet to come. And the lingering hope remains that if nothing else, it will be all the more fun to undress one another later in these outfits.

We return to my apartment, where Zayn turns on the shower letting the steam and water peddle off the wall before we slowly get undressed and steep ourselves in the hot water until I've cleansed myself of every negative, stressful thought and worry for this evening. Zayn holds me close and washes my back for me with my favourite matcha raspberry scented soap, my body relaxing under his gentle touch. I release a breath I'm not even aware I'm holding as he steadies me with one arm while washing me with the other.

"We could always stand them up if you'd like love," he murmurs, kissing the nape of my neck.

I smile and turn in his arms putting my arms around his neck, kissing him, "I would love to do that, but that is basically political suicide in my family - let alone whatever newspapers write of that."

Zayn nods, "I'm here every step of the way, Jaan." He promises.

"Maybe they'll be better behaved because I am there?" He offers.

I grimace slightly, "I think it's more likely that they use you to prove to me how kind they could be but choose not to be."

"Any family would be lucky to have you, Raina." He confirms my deepest fears, that maybe my family just doesn't love me.

"You think so?" My eyes water slightly, blinking back the tears.

He nods, "My mum keeps asking about you, she has been this whole time. My sisters are blowing up the family WhatsApp asking to meet you and can't believe the media caught wind of it all before I gave them the low down. You name the date and time and we'll take a trip to my countryside home and I'll introduce you, they're warm, fun, chaotic, exactly the kind of family I know you'd dream of."

My parents can't resist asserting their American-ness as the Embassy-issued limo arrives with American flags on the four corners. Signalling paparazzi to follow us, exactly the kind of thing they'd purposefully do to us.

The low hum of the embassy-issued limousine fills the silence between us as we slide into the backseat. The plush leather feels familiar, a remnant of a life I used to live without question. But now, everything about it feels suffocating, like I'm being escorted to something far more sinister than a family dinner.

Zayn sits beside me, quiet but not uncomfortable. He doesn't fidget or shrink under the weight of what we're walking into—he just watches me, always watching, as if he can see every thought running through my head.

I let out a breath, turning to him. "You don't have to be so calm."

He smirks. "One of us has to be."

I roll my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat as the driver pulls away from my apartment. "You realize you're about to enter their world, right? The world of handshakes that mean nothing, of conversations loaded with implications—"

"Of men in suits who would rather be anywhere else?" Zayn interjects.

I glance at him, startled by how easily he understands. He shrugs, looking out the window. "I've been to enough of these industry things to know how it works, Rain. People with too much power pretending they're not controlling the world over wine and steak."

I hum in agreement. "And now they get to dissect my life while doing it."

His hand finds mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Let them."