jaan//ziam

१४.

Liam hasn't talked to Harry for a whole day now.

This is the longest they've ever gone fighting, even beating when Harry dumped Liam.

He can't help but feel nervous as he sits outside the familiar darbaar [courtroom].

He arrived at Mysore Palace at 9:55 exactly, the next morning, and was instructed to wait there until the Emir "summoned" him.

Summoned? Really? He was gonna marry this man until a few months ago!

Looking down at himself, he finds himself doubting his clothing choice for the third time.

Maybe he should have worn something that would hide the bump more?

He tried asking Harry for his opinion earlier, but all he got was a grunt—which could mean anything, really.

Before he can debate more of his life decisions, the heavy brass door is being pulled open and voices are heard.

'Jaan it's okay—just take this, yea?'

Butterflies erupt in his stomach at the sound of that voice. Native and Northern and so so familiar.

Zayn—

He's about to stand up when a tall, blonde lady walks out of the room, a smile on her bow–shaped lips.

Liam's heart sinks a little.

Did Zayn call him to tell him this? That he's moved on?

'Zain—I'm not accepting anything from you' she laughs softly; flirtatiously.

And then Zayn himself is stepping outside, with a lopsided grin on his lips, looking much much happier than when Liam last saw him – 3 months ago.

'Tum mere bhabi ho, jaan—mujhe ek bhai samajkar yeh tohfa sweekaar karlo [You're my sister–in–law, jaan—accept my gift as a gift from your own brother]' Zayn murmurs roughly.

Albeit Liam did not understand head or tail of what Zayn just said, he can make a guess based on the lady's tinkling laugh and smiling eyes.

(“Jealousy is a disease and prevention is better than cure” Liam remembers hearing somewhere. He doesn't heed it)

'Too corny for me, jaaneman' she replies and Zayn chuckles (Liam would rather not say “giggles” because that sounds like he's flirting too—and he probably isn't. Or so he hopes)

She presses her lips to Zayn's forehead and throws him a gentle smile, before walking down the corridor—majestic and graceful.

Like a Rani fit for an Emir, Liam thinks sourly and wonders if coming here was a good idea.

The Emir watches after her for a few moments, then turns back to enter the darbaar again, when his eyes land on Liam.

Liam sitting on a regal chair, in ordinary robes. Liam with his big hands over his small bump. Liam, usually exuding happiness and confidence, sitting there worried and nervous.

Zayn's sheepish smile falls off his face immediately, and his carefree expression is replaced by something blank—stony.

'You came' he observes in a soft voice and Liam nods slowly because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that.

The Emir nods, mostly to himself and notes Liam's longer hair, styled differently; his smallness despite his more prominent tummy; his dull eyes; his more sunken face.

'Come in then'

He re–enters the darbaar and Liam stands up, takes a deep breath and follows after.

‡

Zayn may not love Liam anymore, but he certainly still cares for him.

Liam realises that from the way he makes Liam wait at the door while he props up two cushions on a small loveseat, and asks him if he wants water or coffee or tea, or a protein shake ('mumma says they help the foetus grow').

Or the way he doesn't once take a seat until Liam's settled in comfortably, just stands there watching him with wide eyes and an unreadable expression.

'How far along are you now?' Zayn asks him softly and Liam looks down to his stomach.

'Fourteen weeks'

Zayn nods slowly, as if he's making a mental note.

'Are you sure you don't need another cushion?' he asks after a few silent moments and Liam shakes his head again.

'How is Harry then?' Zayn speaks up again and Liam shrugs.

'He's dumped me, and we're currently fighting' Liam admits and Zayn frowns.

'I'm sorry to hear that' Zayn says, looking genuinely sincere about it.

'Yeah' Liam agrees, biting his lip and releasing it before he speaks again.

'Is she—you know the lady you were talking to outside, your um, wife?' Liam blurts out and Zayn looks taken aback.

'What? Gigi?'

Liam nods. Gigi. . .

'Um—yea. She's uh. . . She's my wife' Zayn lies, hoping to evoke a reaction from Liam

Nothing.

Liam just nods and purses his lips thoughtfully.

Does he not care at all? Zayn wonders, slightly disappointed.

'Is there a specific reason you called me here?' Liam pipes up again.

Zayn looks caught off guard by that question, and he decides now is a good time to sit down.

His face looks colder, and harder, when he looks back up at Liam.

Liam has never thought of Zayn as an Emir; someone of a higher class than him.

But right now, it's obvious that he's a king; a ruler; someone important. He looks so cocky sitting there and it's intimidating as fuck.

And that's when he begins to feel nervous.

‡

Double update bc the love on this fic is overwhelming and I feel like I owe y'all something❤😊 so don't forget to check out the next chapter if you have time!¡¡

Every single comment and vote that pops up in my notifs makes me smile like I've just seen the Ziam sextape (where Liam bottoms ofc ;))👅🍑 ) and your love is appreciated so much😍 so thank youuuu and i love you sooo muchh💗 —nia👄

Next chapter is already published btw, just to remind you.