Chapter 17: The Night Fate Led Me to Zayn

Chapter 17: Chapter 17: The Night Fate Led Me to Zayn I sat on the edge of my bed, suitcase half-zipped and heart even more tangled than ever. The walls of my room felt smaller than usual, like they were closing in. My father’s voice echoed in my head from the argument we had last night. "You’re not normal! Stop embarrassing me and this family. Go out there, meet a nice girl, love her, and give us a good name. What is all this about a man?" Normal? What even is normal? I didn’t bother arguing anymore. I just stood there staring at him, rage boiling beneath my skin, but my mouth stayed shut. Not because I agreed, but because I was tired. Tired of screaming. Tired of being unheard. The final two days before I left for school were war. Every conversation turned into a battlefield. He kept pressing me, throwing sermons, threats, and disappointment like daggers. But nothing he said hurt more than being forced to leave Nicki behind. If he hadn’t stepped in, if he hadn’t locked me away like a criminal, Nicki and I would still be together. Still holding each other every night, whispering dreams into each other’s skin. He didn’t break me. He only made my longing more stubborn. The morning of my departure came like a slap. I stood in front of my mirror, the early light washing over my reflection like a goodbye kiss. I whispered to myself, "I will go. I will study. I’ll become a man they can’t touch. And when I return, I’ll find Nicki. It has to be him. No one else." I meant every word. My father finally let me out that day, without a goodbye hug, of course. Just a stiff nod and one last attempt. "I hope you change over there. Make something of yourself. Find a woman. Be a real man." I ignored him. Instead, I had a quiet moment with my mother. She held my hands, her thumb rubbing over my knuckles like she was trying to memorize the feel of me. "Stay safe, my son. Don’t lose yourself. You hear me?" she said softly. "I already did, Ma," I said, giving her a sad smile. "But I’m gonna find what’s left." Then there was Chrisly. He and I had grown unexpectedly closer during my lockup. He was the only one who saw me at my lowest. The only one who sat with me on the floor in silence and never judged me. One night, during the worst of my depression, he came in and sat cross-legged on the floor beside me. "I don’t hate you, bro," he said, staring at the ground. "I was just... jealous. Envious. Dad always loved you more." I laughed bitterly. "Yeah? He loved me so much he kept me locked up for weeks." "I know," he muttered. "He’s wrong for that. But Nicki... maybe let him go for now. You know Dad won’t let him come here, and he’ll never let you go to him. Just go. Study. Become stronger. You can find him again." I stared at him, my chest aching. "And what if by then he’s gone?" "Then you’ll know you tried, at least." So I listened to Chrisly. But I left with my heart still chained to Nicki. I went abroad. I studied. I met people. I laughed, I tried to live. Life abroad was different. Busy, cold, but free. I made friends, went out, and even partied sometimes. But no matter how many drinks I had or how many people flirted with me, I couldn’t let anyone in. But I couldn’t bring myself to have sex. During those four years, without sex, without even a real kiss. I tried, trust me. There were nights I brought someone home, someone warm and willing. They’d lean in, lips soft against mine. But my body just... shut down. I remember one guy, Daniel. Kind eyes. Sweet smile. He pressed against me, lips tracing my neck. "You okay?" he asked when I didn’t move. "I don’t know," I whispered. "I want to. But I can’t." "You’re still in love with him, huh?" I nodded. "Then maybe don’t bring people in until you’re ready, yeah?" He left that night. Some stayed longer. Some tried to understand. Most didn’t. So I stopped trying. I began using only my voice, using the image of Nicki still imprinted in my memory to tease people with words, but never touch. Some stayed for a while. Most left. They didn’t understand. > "Why bring me close if you’re not going to do anything?" "What’s wrong with you?" I heard it all. But the truth was... Nicki ruined me for anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else. I couldn’t want anyone else. But I kept my promise to myself. I studied like a madman. I invested, worked nights, skipped parties. I wasn’t just learning business, I was building it. Brick by brick. Took risks, and built small companies with what I had. I was determined to become so successful, so powerful, that my father would never have a say in my life again. Out of pain. Out of anger. Out of love, I wasn’t allowed to keep it. And every time my father called, I ignored him. When I did pick up, it always ended the same. His voice became a trigger. Even over the phone, just hearing him speak made my blood boil. I hated him. Hated everything he took from me. Sometimes I’d yell. "Stop calling me! Don’t talk to me!" He’d say something calm and calculated, as always. But to me, every word sounded like a threat. I cried in silence many nights. Not for him, but for what he stole from me. "Son, when you come back. He promised I’d take over Draeven Holdings when I returned. But I no longer cared. I had my own company. My properties. "Draeven Holdings is yours to inherit." He said. "I told him don’t talk to me about legacy. You killed my love and expect me to build your empire?" "I did what was best for you!" "No, you did what was best for your pride." Then I’d hang up. And cry. Every damn time. Nicki disappeared online during those years. No Instagram. No Facebook. No text, no calls. Nothing. It was like he vanished off the face of the earth. I used to check every night. His name in the search bar. His old photos are still saved on my phone. That smile. That damn smile. "Where are you, baby?" I’d whisper into the dark. No answer ever came. Four years passed. And I came back, not to my father’s mansion, but to the home I built with my own hands, my own sweat, my own bank account. Chrisly and Mom picked me up at the airport. When we pulled into the driveway of my new place, my mom’s eyes widened. "This... is yours?" "Every inch of it." I smiled. "Wow," Chrisly said, whistling. "You did all this by yourself?" I just nodded. "I don’t want his name on my damn light switch." Inside was exactly how I wanted. Warm tones, luxury in subtle ways, not flashy. But secure. Before my arrival, I made sure everything was secured. My assistant hired the staff, filled the fridge, cleaned the marble floors, and made it clear that Rogan Draeven would never walk through my doors without my permission. That night, when I finally settled in, I called my assistant. "I need you to find someone for me," I said. He blinked, curious. "Who, sir?" "His name is Nicki." Nicki... "Yes. His name is Nicki. No last name. No contact. But he has to be somewhere." Everything I did, all the success, the wealth, the pain, it was all because of him. So I could build a life where he would never be taken away from me again. But life has its own plans. That night, boredom settled heavily over me like a second skin. I had been home for days, doing nothing but waiting, waiting for the moment I would finally see Nicki again. I didn’t go out. I didn’t speak much. I just stayed in, clinging to the fragile hope that fate would somehow bring him back to me. Eventually, the silence became too loud. The waiting became unbearable. "I called my Assistant. Find me a nice place," I told my assistant over the phone. "A cool bar. Somewhere not too crowded... but not too quiet either." He asked no questions; he never did, and within minutes, he sent me the address of a bar downtown. I went out that night not because I wanted to have fun, but because I hoped, just maybe I would run into Nicki. Maybe he’d be sitting at the counter, drink in hand, pretending not to see me at first, just like he used to. Maybe he’d smile again, that reckless, teasing grin I memorized too well. But fate had something else in store for me. Life, in its strange and cruel poetry, whispered in my ear: It’s time you ran into something you deserve. And that’s when I saw him. That was the first night I laid eyes on Zayn.