When we finally pulled apart, he whispered against my mouth, his voice still shaky, "Babe… that really hurt."
My chest caved in at those words. I pressed my forehead to his, stroking the back of his neck, grounding him. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry," I whispered repeatedly, as if I said it enough, it would undo the damage.
He let out a shaky sigh, resting against me, and though the anger hadn't fully left, I felt the fragile thread of forgiveness weaving itself back between us.
"I love you, Zayn," I whispered, my voice trembling.
He nodded slowly, eyes softening just enough. "I know," he murmured.
I couldn't bring myself to touch him again. My hands hovered awkwardly before I finally said, "We should… take our baths."
He gave a small, tired smile and nodded.
