Chapter 6 At the picnic

The sun was blazing, skies cloudless.

Blue canopies dotted the school field, music pulsing from speakers, and students running around with jollof plates and Zanku steps.

It should've been a perfect day.

And for a while—it was.

Zayn had come straight from training, sleeves rolled, damp forehead, towel on his neck like always.

He spotted her across the crowd.

"Hey love," he called out with a dashing smile 

and for a moment Novie smiled back…

…but it didn't reach her eyes.

Zayn didn't notice—yet.

He pulled her into a hug, pressed his forehead against hers, and said:

"You smell like trouble today. You hiding something?"

Novie's heart nearly stopped.

She laughed weakly, "You have no idea."

⸻

They played water balloon games.

They danced to Burna and Tems.

They ate grilled meat and suya off paper plates.

But all the while, the pictures burned in Novie's backpack like a curse.

She couldn't shake Manu's words.

"Dump his sorry butt or I'll make you both look like fools."

It was almost evening now.

The picnic was winding down, and the sky had turned golden with streaks of purple.

Zayn was stretched out on the picnic mat beside her, one hand behind his head, the other gently stroking her wrist.

"Hey," he said suddenly,

"you've been quiet all day. What's going on?"

Novie stared at him.

At the boy who used to be a distant crush.

At the coach who once rolled his eyes when she brought water to his training.

At the man who now looked at her like she was a galaxy. She couldn't loose all this.

She sat up.

"Zayn… I need to tell you something. Something that happened before you and I ever… became a thing."

His expression shifted. Calm, but alert.

"Okay."

She reached into her bag slowly, hands shaking, heart thumping like thunder.

She didn't want to say it.

She hated how this would sound.

She hated how this might ruin everything.

But he deserved the truth.

Just as she was about to speak—

"NOVIEEEEEE!!"

They both turned.

Someone had just screamed her name.

People were gasping. Phones were coming out.

A photo. A big, printed-out photo.

It was hanging—no, taped—to one of the cooler boxes.

A photo of her and Manu

Locked in a passionate kiss.

The kind of photo that looked like cheating, even though it was from long before Zayn ever smiled at her.

A dead silence rippled across the picnic.

Whispers rose like a wave.

Gasps. Laughs. Judgmental stares.

Novie's throat dried up.

She turned to Zayn 

His jaw was clenched.

His eyes unreadable.

Hands in fists.

"What is this?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak but—

"Don't lie."

Her voice cracked.

"Zayn, please… this was long ago, before us. Manu—he's the one who did this. He's blackmailing me. I wanted to tell you. I swear I was going to—"

He stood up. Slowly.

His voice low and cold.

"He's blackmailing you?"

She nodded, eyes full of tears.

"He threatened to ruin everything… and I didn't know what to do."

Zayn looked around.

He spotted Manu laughing in the distance with his stupid smirk.

Zayn fists clenched harder.

But instead of walking away—

Instead of lashing out—

He turned to Novie.

"You should've told me the moment it started."

She choked out, "I was scared. I didn't want to lose you."

He stared at her a long moment.

Then pulled her close.

Tight. Protective. Furious.

"You're not losing me. But he's losing his peace."

Manu was standing near the grill, laughing with his clique.

Novie's picture still taped up like some victory trophy.

But then—

A cold shadow fell over him.

He turned—

And there was Zayn

Silent. Focused. Jaw tight.

Manu smirked.

"Coach. I didn't know you were into recycled materials."

Before the laughter around them could even register—

BAM.

Zayn's fist met his jaw.

Clean. Direct. Brutal.

Manu flew back and landed on the grass, stunned.

People screamed.

Phones came out again.

Some girls clutched their chests like it was a telenovela.

Zayn stood over him.

Voice calm.

Low.

Lethal.

"Touch her name again, and I won't aim for just your face. 

Muna wiped blood from his lip.

"You'll regret that."

"No," Zayn said, "you will."

Then turned away.

Walked straight back to Lovie.

Took her hand without a word.

And just like that, they walked out of the field—together.

⸻

AFTERMATH:

By nightfall, the whole school knew.

"Coach Zayn punched Muna."

"Novie's kiss pic was fake."

"Manu's a jealous creep."

"Zayn and Novie are untouchable now."

People who used to whisper now stared with envy.

Others with awe.

Even Precious had to say:

"You've officially entered your main character era, girl."

⸻

LATER THAT NIGHT…

In Zayn lodge, things were quiet.

He sat on the edge of his bed, towel over his head, still breathing hard from the adrenaline.

Novie sat on the floor in front of him, pulling at her socks, voice soft:

"You didn't have to fight him. You could've gotten into real trouble."

Zayn looked at her.

"I'd do it again. Ten times. He made you cry."

She smiled, still teary.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

He shook his head, leaned down, and cupped her face.

"I'm sorry he ever had the chance."

Then kissed her.

This time not in fear, or secrecy, or guilt.

But in full, open, raging love.

She held his face in her soft hands and he clenched on her waist-they were barely breathing when a phone call broke the piece of the night, they laughed a little before Zayn went to take the call.