i barely had any sleep before i woke up and went down stares the house was oddely quite exept slar sitting in the tv launch scrolling on his phone
"where is everyone else?"
"mama went to shopping for your weeding with auntie warda,nawal and iqra api"
"Salar," I said, leaning against the doorframe of the TV lounge. He was staring at his phone, probably scrolling through a car forum. "Up for a round of FIFA? I'll even let you be Real Madrid."
Salar looked up, surprised. "Aren't you supposed to be at the site? Zayn left like an hour ago. He looked like he'd slept in a blender."
"The site can survive one day without me," I said, walking over and picking up a controller. My movements felt heavy, but my mind was set. "I'm not in the mood for 'structural integrity' today."
I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over Zayn's name in my contacts. I didn't want to call him. I didn't want to hear that flat, uncertain voice again.
[To: Zayn I won't be at the library today. Zara will be there instead. If you have any questions regarding the project, you can ask her.]
I hit send before I could overthink it. I didn't wait for a "Delivered" notification. I tossed the phone onto the sofa cushion and focused on the screen.
"Whoa, Alayna, you're actually playing aggressive today," Salar muttered ten minutes later as I slide-tackled his striker for the third time. "Everything okay? The 'Mubarak' from last night seemed a bit... intense."
"It's fine, Salar. Just play," I muttered.
But it wasn't fine. Every time the door to the house creaked, I jumped. Every time a notification pinged on my phone, my stomach did a somersault. I was trying to drown out the reality of the Nikkah with pixelated grass and button-mashing, but the silence of the house was louder.
I was hiding. I knew it, and I hated it. But after five years of being the one left behind, I decided it was finally Zayn's turn to wonder where I was.