The moment the waiter brings the wine and leaves, I can feel Zayn's eyes lingering on me. I look up from my plate, already feeling bare under the soft candlelight and his unreadable gaze.
"You look…"
He begins, then chuckles, shaking his head.
"No, that doesn't even cover it. You're breathtaking, Kattie. Like something out of a dream."
I try to smile, but it's tight, uneasy. My stomach is twisting too much to enjoy the food. There's something in the way he's watching me—it's not just admiration. It's knowledge. Depth. A storm behind calm eyes.
This wine is a beautiful vintage, the bottle glinting under the soft light. He pours for me first, then himself. We clink glasses gently. I barely take a sip before he speaks again.
"I know you're confused, Kattie."
He says, his voice low and measured.
"I know you're feeling things you can't explain... especially when it comes to Chris."
