The rest of the reception seemed to go extremely well, but there was no reason for it not to. Despite Zayn's sudden reemergence, nothing went wrong. Every last detail was executed to perfection. It was quite literally a fairytale wedding.

Exactly what Cara and Kristen deserved. After everything that had happened in the last few months, I think we all deserved this beautiful day.

The ride home was extremely quiet. Zayn had a lot to drink but he didn't appear too intoxicated. After his disappearing act at the wedding, I found him by the entrance making phone calls. Not surprising. I imagined that it had something to do with whatever he did for work and didn't want to question him, as I knew I would get no answers. Not truthful ones, at least.

Something had changed at the reception, but I don't know what it was. At first he seemed happy to see me but now I wasn't so sure.

I hadn't really been around him in the last couple of months to truly know what was going on. At first I wanted to chalk it up to the many drinks he had and perhaps being tired of socializing, but it was just so hard to figure him out. It seemed like the more I went in circles about it, the further I got from figuring it out.

A part of me thought, I should give him a chance. We haven't really been married long, technically. Who knows, maybe in the time he was gone he changed and came back because he wants things to be better. There wasnt anything I hadn't already lost, so what was another chance? There wasn't a reason I couldn't try to be better as well. I can't imagine why he would come back if he didn't have intentions of being with me, much less why he would just abandon me so abruptly after we got married. Besides, I could do it. If I truly wanted, we could make it work.

There he was, sitting nonchalantly on the couch, engrossed in his phone. His eyes flickered up for a moment, registering my presence, before returning to the screen. Every so often, he would divert his attention to the bedroom. I felt embarrassed at the state of the room. A part of me hoped he would see how his absence affected me, but his disdain was hard to hide. He looked so sharp in his suit, but so intimidating in a way that just made you feel small. He reminded me so much of my father at that moment, his indifference so unbearable.

"Is there no one to clean this room up for you?" He asked in an odd, almost accusatory tone, "I pay the employees of the house enough.. so you would think..."

"I don't really let anyone in here," I confessed, embarrassed, not wanting him to accuse anyone of not doing their job. That's where the conversation was headed.

"They could come in and clean up when you're not in here, I mean... come on?" He scrunched his nose, not happy with the amount of dishes, clothes, and things in the room.

Zayn shook his head and glanced out the window. He sighed deeply, disappointed. Not at all surprising and yet, still so hurtful.

"I'm always in here," I gulped, "I don't really leave the room or house much."

He looked at me with a raised brow, no disgust on his face. Almost as if he didn't believe me. No, this was a very different expression. It wasn't necessarily upset, it was almost challenging. There was no real way to describe the change in atmosphere. It felt tight, I was having trouble really looking at him in the eye in fear of what would be looking back. I held my knees to my chest, trying to find warmth, but coming up as short as I had in the last few months. It was cold in my room, colder now more than ever perhaps, and with each passing second I felt as if I was shrinking into my clothes.

"Why?" He simply asked after a few more seconds of careful examination.

I sighed, "let's talk about it tomorrow. I'm really tired and it's really cold in here."

He rolled his eyes, "I wanted you here because I thought you'd be happy. You always complained about being alone but now you're saying it looks like this because you're always in here," He sat on the ottoman at the end of the bed, not making an effort to convey any emotion in his tone.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore."

It was strange, it was as if there was no emotion behind his words. His eyes were sparkling, but the more I looked the more I saw absolutely nothing.

"Why are you so mean?" I asked, ashamed to let him see the way he affected me.

"I'm not being mean to you, I'm talking to you," he simply responded, uninterested.

I felt tears stinging my eyes, "You constantly hurt me and come back acting like nothing happened. Why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"You're acting different towards me," I said sadly, "I feel pathetic and think maybe you don't love me anymore."

Zayn sighed, "I do. Please don't ruin the evening with your insecurity."

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening the wounds that had barely begun to heal.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I mustered the courage to speak. "I'm not insecure for no reason," I managed to say, my voice trembling. "Look at the way you've treated me, the way you belittle and demean me. I can't help but feel insecure when you constantly tear me down."

He scoffed, his eyes filled with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. "You ran away from me, remember?" he retorted, his voice laced with condescension. "I've never done anything to hurt you. I've always just gotten even."

"You know that's not true," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You've hurt me, physically and emotionally. You've cheated on me, betrayed my trust constantly. I can't just pretend it never happened. You constantly lie to me and think I'm too stupid to figure out what you're doing."

He laughed, a cold, heartless sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You're delusional," he sneered. "I do enough as it is on my own to look like I'm the bad guy, I don't need your help."

"Just be honest," I pleaded.

"According to you, what am I doing? I'm here, I'm all yours," he said sarcastically. "I'm being honest."

"Please tell me the truth."

The room fell silent, I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of truth or deception.

"Is there someone else?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, yet the words reverberated through the room like thunder.

His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and panic crossing his face before he quickly composed himself. "No, Anastasia, I don't know what you're even talking about," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "We still have time to fix us, I love you," I continued, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and disappointment. "I can't help but wonder if you still love me, if I still mean anything to you."

He scoffed, a forced laugh that failed to mask the unease in his eyes. "You're being paranoid," he retorted, his voice tinged with irritation. "I have so many responsibilities, I wish you'd understand the pressure that I'm under. There is no one else."

But his words rang hollow, and I could see the cracks in his façade. The way his eyes darted away, the slight tremor in his hands, betrayed the truth he was desperately trying to conceal. My heart sank, the realization settling in that my fears might indeed be true.

The words we exchanged hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the past that yet again repeated itself. But as I watched him, suddenly very calmly preparing to take a shower as if nothing had happened, a mix of disbelief and anger surged within me. I couldn't fathom how he could be so detached, so unaffected.

"Are you seriously going to take a shower right now?" I blurted out, my voice laced with frustration.

He turned to me, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "What's the big deal? I need to shower," he replied, his tone dismissive.

My hands trembled with the intensity of my emotions. "The big deal? This relationship is hanging by a thread and you don't even care to address that? Or give me an explanation as to where the hell you've been?"

He sighed, his face contorting into a look of impatience. "Look, I'm tired. I want to shower and crawl into bed with you. Don't make this a bigger problem than it actually is," he said, his words dripping with indifference.

His nonchalant attitude only fueled my frustration.

"No, it is a big deal," I retorted, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "Just tell me where you where. Tell me what was so important you had to abandon me again. I have no one except you, you know that."

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting mine. I could see a flicker of realization in his gaze, a glimmer of understanding that perhaps he knew I needed him. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a stubborn resolve.

"I don't have time for this right now," he said, his voice firm.

His words hung in the air, a painful reminder of the disconnect that only kept growing between us. Zayn stepped into the shower, the sound of the water drowning out my thoughts.