The next morning, Zayn wakes up to one text, and then two texts from his dad.

tell the wife we said hello :)

And try to actually enjoy yourself

Zayn rolls his eyes, because it's not like he was purposefully trying not to enjoy himself with Stevie, it's just that the odds of him loving her again like he once had, were very, very slim.

He also chuckles a bit though, because his dad's use of emoji's never failed to amuse him.

And at the sound of the soft snores beside him, Zayn rolls over, staring at the figure sleeping beside him in bed.

It's Stevie.

His wife.

She's curled in a ball, knees tucked, palm beneath her head.

His eyes stumble over her body, tripping over the curves of hers visible beneath the thin white bed sheets.

She'd always been like this--effortless. Even asleep, she seemed to do it gracefully. Even, asleep, it seemed as though the sun shined through the curtains to draw attention to her defined cheekbones and long eyelashes. Even asleep, she slept with a slight smile. Even asleep, the sheets hugged those curves of hers and made visible the tattoo she'd gotten as a freshman...the one of Africa with Kenyan colors; the one he'd held her hand through the inking of.

That was the first night he'd kissed her.

They'd stood beneath the street lights of that place whose name has now escaped him and he'd pressed his lips to hers to stop the sting of the needle and Zayn thought he had tasted the next sixty years of his life.

She was only a freshmen. She had only been eighteen.

And now, here they were.

Married.

Zayn finds himself scooting...a bit...closer in bed.

He can't stop thinking about her question.

Her question from last night.

She'd been so drunk it was comical.

Stumbling and giggling...it had been a long time since Zayn had seen her like this.

She needed help out of her dress and the zipper kept getting stuck and her frustration was hilarious, especially as she sat down in the middle of the floor and began to whine.

Zayn had offered his hand, loosening his tie with the other as he asked his own question first.

"Need some help?"

And she'd responded with her own.

"Why'd you kiss me?"

He froze, having been laughing as she gathered her skirts and rose to stand.

Then, she'd tripped and fell onto the bed.

"Kiss you?" He asked, crawling behind her to help her with her zipper. "What do you mean, Stevie?"

"Today," she'd said. "This afternoon. At the--"

"Ceremony?" He had asked, shocked to find her nodding. He wanted to chalk this all up to alcohol, but the way she had stared at him, he could tell Stevie was actually serious.

He'd turned her face towards his. "You didn't like it?"

"I mean...I didn't expect it, s-s'all."

"So..." He teased, "You liked it."

"I didn't dislike it," she replied, to which he had rolled his eyes. "But, I didn't expect t-to be kissed at all," she had said. "And then there's you all of a sudden, and Zayn, really, how long has it been?"

"Long," he had replied.

"Just," she'd snorted, "long?"

"I don't know about you," his fingers graze her skin, as memories of her leaving and the hurt he was left with suddenly make his voice clipped, eyebrows pinched. "But five years seems long to me."

She turned slowly. "You sound mad."

"Really?" He'd unzipped her dress, "Do I?"

"You still do."

"Hmm," he'd hummed.

And he had climbed off the bed to shower.

This morning, Zayn is grateful for this time to himself.

He's grateful for these moments of solitude and quiet.

He's grateful that the camera crew isn't here yet.

He needed more time like this. More time to reflect. More time to figure out if this was going to work or not.

They'd catch their flight that night to Hawaii, and they'd spend the next few days on the beach for their honeymoon.

His honeymoon with Stevie.

And he's got his head against his arm as her warm breath tickles his face.

As she sleeps beneath the sunlight, he reaches out and barely allows the pads of his fingers to graze her forehead, pushing back one of the curly tendrils of hair from falling in front of her eyes.

Zayn is wondering when this feeling will go away.

This hurt.

Because he can't help wondering how and why Stevie could just walk away from this those years ago. They had this--this shared bed and morning after. This was theirs, and he was so gone for her, and now? Now, they're only reunited by chance and for television ratings.

Now, this is fake.

Or so it seems.

And this is hurting.

And Zayn wants to know when the hurt is going to stop...

As Stevie stirs.

She stretches, brow furrowing as those big, almond eyes open, squinting at him beneath the sunlight.

"Good morning," he says, and for a moment, all Stevie does is blink, mouth parted.

"I--" She seems to shake herself from her trance, giggling raspily with her unused morning voice, her hand over her mouth in that way she did when she was embarrassed.

Zayn smiles.

"Good morning, Zayn," she says after a moment.

"Good morning, wife," he replies, and pushes himself from bed, heading towards the shower.

___

dis my favorite story I'm writing guys
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