The Broken Promises || Zayn Malik

Chapter Twenty Three

Rach

I ran down as fast as I could. The anklets in my feet and my bangles rang in my ears like the Christmas bells; the typical noise. I was baffled. My head was spinning and I could barely comprehend what was going on around me. I couldn’t believe all that had happened just a moment ago. How could he just kiss me like that? Breathe Rach.

Zayn, he was different tonight. There was a spark of fury and annoyance in his brown orbs.  I could feel the tension when he held me. Of course there was love evident on his face, and also the longing to be with me, but that wasn’t just enough. The passion in his kiss convinced me for a moment that this wasn’t about Perrie anymore. This was about us.

My chest heaved frantically as I ran down the stair case and towards the huge garden before the house. I could feel the lack of oxygen in my lungs as I stopped for a breather. I looked at the stairs from where I had just passed. He was walking down, his steps slow yet hasty and his eyes constantly staring at my bewildered face. He held the banister firmly and walked one step at a time. I could feel the mascara running down my face, with an obnoxious feeling of burning sensation through my eyes. It felt as if my entire body was on fire: something that I felt when he made love to me; just a little less intense, of course. I wiped my eyes with what happened to be a piece of Zayn’s  golden sherwani, that was stuck into my bangles as he held me before leaving, and placed it in my small pouch that hung over my waist. By the time I was done with it all, he had reached close enough. I turned around and started walking soberly, as though nothing had happened. I was successful in faking some things. He didn’t stop me either.

Was I really still his girlfriend?

I didn’t care. It was already past 9pm and the night outside was beautiful. It was cold, of course, but I felt extremely warm; leave it to me for such stupid contradictory feelings. I found my way to a passageway that was beautifully decorated with golden and silver artificial flowers and led to the pavilion where everybody was. Appreciating my strength, I started pulling my heavy feet towards the entrance. Just as soon as I entered the hall, two aesthetic looking figures appeared before my eyes. I fell into their arms and for god know what reasons; my tears started flowing as though I had seen them for the first time in a century. My parents were here.

My mum immediately wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed my forehead, “I missed you too, honey,” she blurted suddenly.

My mum was a stout 48 year old lady, with dark brown hair like me and black eyes. She wore a beautiful saree with silver and golden lining and intricate designs. My mum, just like me, literally wore her heart on sleeve. She had always been all about our family of three and had given up her job as a paediatrician when we had left Bradford. She took to full time dedication towards me and my career after going back to India and I respected my mum so much for doing all of it for me. I hugged her once again and turned towards the tall man in black standing before me.

“Hey Dad!” I exclaimed with a happy smile and hugged my dad.

“How is my kiddo?” He ruffled through my hair: like he always did after we played a match of football and I scored a goal after what happened to be five half times.

My dad on the other hand was tall, petite old man with some occasional white hair on his head. He didn’t believe in dyeing them black. I had my dad’s eyes: dark brown. He was a business tycoon in India now and my mum had a big hand in his success. Everybody knew my father as the owner of Shanoy Group of Industries Ltd. in India and I was proud of what my father had achieved in four years. He really had worked his ass off! Mind your language, girl.

My dad wore a black tuxedo today and as usual, his hands were deep into his pockets, as though some treasure lay amidst the bottoms of his pockets. He always did that.