8. You're Not The One

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{Two April's ago}

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{Two April's ago}

I don't want to be negative about this whole situation all ready but this all just feels so wrong and unnatural. I flew out here to meet someone who I'm going to marry in the next month or so. That just doesn't sound right. I know this is what's best for me, I just wish there was another way we could have come about it.

All I know is his name is Zayn Malik and I have about three pictures of him that I got from my mother. He has brown floppy hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, bushy eyebrows and tattoos. It feels kind of strange having my mother blindly marry me off but it's the only way I can get away from my past and start over. I don't have to stay with him after this, I know that, but I might as well get to know him.

"Isabelle, Zayn is here!" My mother calls to me from the door of our hotel room.

I take a deep breath in and try to make sure I look at least half decent for him. Not that I need to impress him. It's just that first impressions are important. I have a light cream wool sweater with my black skinny jeans on and hoop earrings that tuck back into my hair that I curled this morning. So maybe I'm trying to look nice for him but is that such a bad thing?

I walked to the door where my mother stood with the door open and who I know to be Zayn and I'm assuming his mother are in the doorway.

He looks completely unimpressed with this whole situation and I already feel uncomfortable.

"Isabelle this is Zayn, Zayn this is Isabelle." My mother introduces us.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you." I smile softly to which he gives a very weak, almost none-existent, smile back.

"Okay... well, I'm going to go out for a bit with Mrs. Malik and we will leave you two to get to know each other for a bit."

I give my mother pleading eyes to ask her not to leave me alone with him but she just puts on a smile and waves us 'bye' as she walks off with Zayn's mother.

I let Zayn in and shut the door behind him.

"Did you want to-um... go out or stay in? There's a nice coffee shop down the street or—"

"Listen." He cuts me off turning to me with a furious look. "I'm not here to see if we're compatible. I'm not here to see if maybe we will fall in love and all of this will somehow work out. I'm here because my mother told me about your situation and I pity you. This is simply that — pity. We get married, the appropriate amount of time passes and then we divorce and that's that."

I look at him wide-eyed and taken back by his angry words. I guess this isn't really worth a shot... there isn't one to take. He clearly doesn't want anything to do with me, this is going to be painful.

"Oh, okay... I was just wondering since... you know... we're going to be spending a lot of time together and maybe we could—"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer we just kept it as plain as possible."

"Yeah, that's... perfect." I lie.

I guess some part of me had hoped that he had the slightest interest in getting to know me. Even if we just became friends, it would be better than this.

This is going to be a long few months.

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