What did he and my dad talk about…? The question kept echoing in my head.
After a while, he stood up, and we both cleaned up together. He said he was going back home, but I insisted he wait so we could leave together. I even told him to spend the night at my place, but he refused. He said he had work tomorrow, and it was easier to get things done from his place than mine.
When I suggested maybe I should just spend the night at his house instead, he shook his head and told me his friend was around. It wasn't the right time for me to come over.
So, in the end, we agreed to sleep separately, he at his house, me at mine. Still, my mind felt uneasy, fear pressing at the edges of my thoughts, like Zayn might just disappear if I let him go. But I kept telling myself maybe none of that was going to happen.
I asked him to rest on the couch while I finished rounding up the day's work. He lay down and soon drifted off to sleep, his breathing soft and steady.
