fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 88

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My damn couch didn't feel the same after that. We only had sex on it three times during that one trip of his but it was enough for my mind to associate him with it. It didn't matter how many movie nights I had with Zayn on there prior to that—it reminded me of him and nothing else.

A year ago today, I woke up excitedly because I knew he was coming to see me. I wanted to be the one to pick him up from the airport and when I did, I teared up as he wrapped his arms around me and held me to him tightly. We had only been away from each other for two weeks and I already felt the impact of those fourteen days without him. So, when he could only visit me two months after that due to both of us being extremely busy, I was really on the low side of things until he was with me again.

Now, I didn't have him at all and he wasn't coming at all. He didn't want me. He broke it off with me because of the distance. I kind of gave up on the whole threat thing because it sounded stupid and obsessive. It was like I desperately wanted him to have a better reason for not wanting to go out with me anymore when there probably wasn't anything else. If it wasn't the distance then it was probably me who drove him away, anyway.

There was a lot more wrong with me than right and he most likely have realised his life was better without me in it. I didn't blame him—I would have run if I had the chance so I started to make peace with it. Especially after it came to me that he wasn't trying to get back with me. That kind of confirmed it all for me and I had to get used to it.

I knew he loved me and I knew he cared for me. But I also knew I was a lot to handle and I wasn't easy or had the smoothest ride with things like opening up. That can be a lot for someone who is so used to showing emotion and being with people who are much lighter when it comes to communication. Perhaps he felt trapped and like he said before, at a dead end, therefore he chose to do what he thought was best for him and leave.

For that, I couldn't blame him.

A sigh escaped my lips when I woke up on my birthday this year, alone, in a somewhat cold room. I turned on my side and cuddled the bunched-up quilt to my chest then pushed down on the pillow a little so I could see my phone screen better. I had texts from my brother, Miss Jones, my parents and Zayn. It wasn't that I was ungrateful or not happy to know they cared about me. It was the fact that the one person who I really wanted a text from, would probably never even think of sending me one.

I decided to go on Instagram first and check on how my posts were doing on my personal—which was very much work focused and there was nothing personal about it—then my brand account. I liked being up to date with things like that, it really did wonders for brand loyalty between customers and Kensington and Co.

After my usual check-up was done, I tried to move in bed but my whole body ached and it felt like it was paralyzed. I tried to move myself but there was no way I could have found the strength or the energy to do that. My eyes widened in slight fear and I chuckled in panic as I turned my head and reached for my phone again.

Me: I can't move

London was five hours ahead of me which meant it was already two in the afternoon at home. It took Zayn a while to see my text and then reply.

Zayn Malik: what do u mean lol

Zayn Malik: u already moved to new york??? u wanna come back home too?

Me: I can't move from bed

Zayn Malik: hold on let me ft u lol

It took a minute or two for the call to come and by the time it finally came, the panic set in me properly.