chapter 22

What the hell had just happened?

I wiped my face with my sleeve, trying to rid myself of the rain and the feeling of Zayn's touch. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye, and I froze. My lips were swollen, my face flushed, and my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else I didn't want to name. I stared at myself for a long moment, my mind replaying everything that had happened in the rain.

I didn't want to admit it, but part of me was shaken by the realization that Zayn had affected me—had stirred something inside me that I didn't understand. The force of his kiss, the possessiveness in his voice, the way he had looked at me like I belonged to him—it had rattled me to my core.

But I couldn't let it control me. I wouldn't.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. This wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of girl to be pushed around, to be claimed by someone like Zayn. I wasn't going to let him get into my head, no matter how intense his presence was.

I walked over to my bed and sat down, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I glanced at it. A message from Eva.

Eva: hey sweety, I am on the way to my house . I won't be attending school for few days, take care until then.

I stared at the message for a moment, feeling a lump form in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything, to unload the confusion and fear and anger swirling inside me. But how could I even begin to explain what had just happened? How could I tell her that the guy who had been "tutoring" me had just kissed me in the rain, and that I didn't know how to feel about it?

With a sigh, I put the phone down without responding. I wasn't ready to talk yet. Not to Eva, not to anyone.

For now, all I could do was sit here in my room, alone with my thoughts, trying to make sense of the chaos Zayn had brought into my life.

And even though I hated it, a part of me knew that this was far from over.

————

I lay on my bed, feeling the heat from the fever pulse through my body. My limbs felt heavy, like they were weighed down by invisible chains. My head ached, and every breath was shallow, labored. The rain had soaked through my clothes earlier, and now it felt like my body was paying the price. I sighed, my vision blurred by fatigue, and glanced at my phone just as another message popped up on the screen.

It was from an unknown number, and my heart sank.

*"Time for tutoring."*

I stared at the message for a moment, confusion blending with irritation. It had to be Zayn. Who else could it be? After everything that had happened between us—the incident in the rain, the way he kissed me and touched me—I had been avoiding him, trying to find some way to return the money he'd paid for the tutoring. But returning it seemed impossible. Zayn wasn't the kind of guy who would let me walk away easily.

I frowned, my fingers typing a quick response: *"I'm not well. Not today."* It was true. I was too sick to deal with him, too sick to think straight. 

As soon as I hit send, I tossed my phone aside and struggled to sit up. I could feel the fever worsening, and my skin felt clammy under the sweatshirt I had thrown on. The room felt like it was spinning, and I needed to get out of there—to get some fresh air, buy medicine, and clear my head. 

I wrapped the sweatshirt tighter around me and stepped outside, the cool hallway offering a brief moment of relief. The fever still clung to me, though, making my body feel heavy and sluggish. I made my way to the door, determined to get to the pharmacy, but as soon as I stepped into the chilly evening, I saw him.

Zayn.

He was walking toward my dorm, his strides long and purposeful, his expression serious as his eyes locked onto mine. My stomach twisted, but I tried to keep my face neutral, ignoring the familiar tension that sparked between us.

"Amira," he called out, his voice low and rough, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. 

I kept moving, pretending not to notice the concern etched across his features. But Zayn wasn't the type to be ignored. Before I could brush past him, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out. I instinctively moved back, but he wasn't deterred. His fingers brushed my forehead, then moved down to the side of my neck. 

"You're burning up," he muttered, his eyebrows knitting together. "You've got a fever."

"It's none of your business," I snapped, brushing his hand away. The last thing I needed was his attention right now. "Don't disturb me."

His jaw clenched, and I could see the frustration building in him. His fists balled at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But instead, he took a deep breath, clearly holding something back.

"You need to rest," he said through gritted teeth. "Where are you going?"

"Out," I replied flatly. "I don't need your help."

I pushed past him and headed out into the night, ignoring the burning sensation in my chest and the way my body trembled with every step. The air was cool, and I hoped it would help clear my fevered mind. But the farther I walked, the more I felt the weight of exhaustion pulling me down.

I was heading toward the pharmacy, but I barely made it a few hundred meters before the familiar sound of footsteps echoed behind me. The same footsteps I had heard when I first arrived at the school. My heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out along my spine. I quickened my pace, but my legs felt like lead. The footsteps grew closer, and I could feel the panic rising in my throat. 

My vision blurred, the world tilting around me, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My legs buckled, and everything went dark. But before I hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around me, catching me just in time.

Zayn.

I could barely register his face before I closed my eyes again, too weak to fight the darkness pulling me under. 

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a cozy bed, wrapped in warmth. It was still night, and the room was dimly lit by a soft glow from a nearby lamp. Confusion washed over me as I realized I wasn't in my dorm anymore. I sat up, my body aching from the fever, and looked around. 

This wasn't my room.

It was a home

Panic shot through me as I tried to make sense of how I had ended up here. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Zayn appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup, some medicine, and a glass of water.

"You're awake," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of concern. 

"Where did you bring me?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I was terrified, the reality of being in Zayn's home sinking in.

"To my house," he replied simply, setting the tray down on the bedside table. 

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. So, he had a house near the school. I watched him carefully as he brought the medicine closer to me, holding out the glass of water. There was a part of me that didn't want to accept anything from him, but right now, I was too weak to refuse. Just for now, I told myself. I took the medicine and sipped the water, the bitterness of the pill lingering in my mouth.

"Thanks," I muttered, my voice barely audible. I couldn't believe I was thanking him, but I needed to get out of here.

"I'm going back to my dorm," I said, trying to sound firm, though my body protested with every movement.

Zayn's expression darkened slightly, but he kept his voice even. "You should stay here. You're too sick to go back right now."

"No, thanks," I replied quickly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My head spun, but I was determined to leave. "I can walk. It's not far."

He sighed, clearly irritated, but didn't argue. "Fine," he said, standing up. "But I'll drive you."

"I can walk," I insisted, trying to stand on my own. 

"Yeah, I saw how well that worked out when you fainted on the road," he teased, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

I shot him a glare, my face heating up with embarrassment. "I'm fine now," I muttered, brushing past him.

But as soon as I stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, and I regretted my decision to leave. My legs were still shaky, and the fever was making everything feel distant, like I was floating in a fog. Zayn followed me, his footsteps close behind, and within seconds, he pulled up in his car, parking it in front of me.

I ignored him, stubbornly continuing to walk.

A few steps later, he pulled up again, parking the car in front of me once more. I rolled my eyes, knowing this wasn't a battle I could win right now. I was too tired to keep arguing.

Reluctantly, I got into the car, the warmth of the heater immediately soothing my chilled skin. I stared out the window in silence as Zayn drove me back to the dorm. My mind was a mess, a tangle of conflicting emotions. I didn't understand why he was helping me, why he was always there. And worse, I didn't understand why I couldn't stop thinking about him. 

It wasn't just the fever making me feel uneasy. It was him—Zayn. He was dangerous, in more ways than one, and I needed to keep my distance. But every time I tried, he pulled me back in. And the worst part was, I didn't know if I even wanted to break free anymore.

"Get some rest," Zayn said as I opened the car door, his voice softer than before. "You'll need it."

I nodded, too tired to argue, and stepped out of the car. The dorm loomed in front of me, dark and quiet, and as I walked inside, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking away from something I didn't fully understand. Something that scared me, yet intrigued me all the same.

As I collapsed onto my bed, pulling the covers over me, my mind wandered back to Zayn. The way he looked at me, the way his hands felt on my skin—everything about him was overwhelming, suffocating. And yet, part of me craved it.

I didn't know what was happening to me, but as I drifted off into a restless sleep, I knew one thing for certain.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.