29 ??The Ride Home?? (1/2)

LEIA

I didn't want to go with Zayn after the words he'd said to me. Did he think I was that desperate for money? Disgusted at myself, I quickly booked an Uber and made sure to wait as far away from the hospital's parking lot as possible.

I nervously fiddled with my fingers as I stood by the kiosks, wondering if anyone was staring at me. Usually, I didn't care what people thought of me. Zayn and this situation had turned me into a freak.

Unconsciously, my hand slid down and settled on my stomach, my fingers splayed as my mind wandered off. What would it be like to have a child? To hold a tiny little thing in your arms, knowing what a miracle it was to be able to give birth?

I'd never really thought of children unless it was 'one of those days'. Never had I thought that something so raw inside me would unfurl just at the thought of having my own child.

All thoughts vanished from my mind as a familiar scent of aftershave and wood wafted in the air surrounding me. I whirled around, finding Zayn standing there, arms crossed and all. It seemed like he didn't have a care in the world.

He gave the typical 'whaddup' look that men seemed to master without any training. It annoyed me to no extent.

I backed away a step.

He gave me a sardonic half-smile.

”How did you get here?” It was the dumbest question in the history of questions but I was flummoxed by his sudden appearance.

”Why, with my own two feet,” His words might have been sarcastic but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

Oh, so he was angry?

If I wasn't Muslim, I would've walked forward and slapped him. It would've taught him a thing or two to be humiliated like this in public. By a girl, no less. Oh, the shock.

”Great,” I muttered, almost under my breath. I noticed a guy with a protruding belly and long mustache looking our way. Ugh. ”I was just leaving.”

”Did you call him?” The way he laid an emphasis on 'him'. . . I almost shuddered. He was talking about Ammar. ”Answer me for once, dammit!”

I gritted my teeth. ”Rectify your tone and I might.”

We glared at each other, neither of us willing to back down. Thankfully, my phone pinged. The Uber guy was here. I looked away, blinking back the water.

Phew. That was a little intense.

”I'm leaving.”

”Is he here to pick you up?”

I tried stuffing my phone into a pocket until I realised—too late—that I had none. Gosh, it was like I was on drugs or something. Had the doctor anesthetized me?

”I don't owe you an answer,”

He scoffed and suddenly I was being shoved. I shrieked, a terrible sound that had all heads turning. Zayn barked out something in Urdu, something about 'minding your own business'.

”Zayn,” I grasped his arm, trying to pry it off as he dragged me, undeterred. ”let me go.”

”Be quiet and walk with me,” he gritted out, my elbow still in his hand.

I tried the only strategy I had up my sleeve. ”Ow! You're hurting me.” Granted, it was a cheap trick. Something I would cringe on when I thought about it later in bed.

He skidded to a halt and I almost slammed head-first into him. Concern lined his eyes as he softly gazed at me. One would mistake him for being a sweet and caring guy—which I hoped he still was—but he was mostly an angry monster who thought he could touch me. He definitely needed some teaching and I would give him his due.