Risky Business | Zayn Malik | AU

27

| twenty-seven |

a/n: only 5 chapters left after this! leave comments of your thoughts for the final chapters of risky business! :)

✵ a l e x a n d r a

When I step inside the mansion I once called home, a wave of nostalgia hits me. Memories of my mother reading to me, baking with me, and braiding my hair overwhelm my senses as I run my fingers along the table at the back door. The very same table that I once ran into when I was only a child.

As much as these recollections consume my thoughts, I have to admit that this place doesn't feel like home anymore. Sure, it makes me remember moments from my childhood, but I can't help but think it feels cold.

They say that home is when you're with the people you love, and I can't help but think about how true that statement is as I step into the living room.

Home is anywhere as long as I'm with Zayn.

Instead of feeling sad about knowing I'll never return to this place again, I feel angry. I feel upset, and frankly, pissed. I've only just found out that the man who raised me murdered my mother. So it's safe to say that I want nothing to do with him, and this house is filled with him.

Nick clears his throat, glancing around the mansion with awe. "You're telling me that all these years you lived here? This place is huge!"

I shrug my shoulders, fully disinterested with talks of my childhood. When I think back on it, I would've much rather grown up in a tiny, broken down shack and had a wonderful, loving mother and father than what I actually had . . .

"I'll just be up in my room, collecting my things," I explain to Nick, pointing my thumb towards the big staircase.

"Alright," he answers, knowing I need my space. "I'll hang out down here. Just yell if you need me."

With a nod of my head and a weak smile, I start up the steps, turning at the top to enter my room. The moment I enter, it occurs to me how much has changed since I was last here.

The last time I was in my room, I was either dating Ryan or had just broken up with him. I'd just met Zayn and little did I know just how much would change over a few months. I didn't expect to figure out hidden family secrets, I never thought Marc was my father, and I sure as heck didn't think I'd fall in love with Zayn.

Alas, it all happened.

I know that when I left this room, I was broken. I was selfish, I didn't care about much else but my own needs and wants. But I'd like to think that spending so much time with Zayn has made me into a better person. I know for a fact that I'd put his needs above my own in the next second because I love him.

I grab a photo of Ryan and myself posted at my bedside. To think of how betrayed I felt after Zayn showed me who Ryan truly was makes me even more angry. I take the frame and smash it to the hardwood floors, amused with the way it shatters into nothing. Just like the relationship did.

I look at the board where all of my other photos are on display. I don't even bother taking a second glance at the girls I called friends or the ones of Victor and I—I just curl my fingers around the wood and rip the stupid thing off my wall, tossing it to the floor.

I grab a suitcase from my closet and toss it open on my bed. Sauntering over to my closet reveals to me just how little I care about the things that fill it. The clothes, shoes, accessories, and other stuff I was once so attached to, I now feel little to nothing for.