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.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔
𝗢𝗖𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝟭𝟮, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟴
I sat in my house, tiredly scrolling through emails, the only source of light coming from my laptop screen, the glow of it casted long shadows on the walls.
I checked the clock and I wasn't surprised when it read 11:14 pm. 
It had been one of those days where I felt busy but, in reality, had done nothing but procrastinate. Like always. 
A half-finished to-do list sat beside me, taunting me with all the unchecked boxes. I told myself I'd be more productive tomorrow, though I had whispered the same lie yesterday.
The only noise was coming from outside, the wind howling through the trees, and the branches scratching against each other. The house was silent otherwise.
I had never minded the quiet before, but tonight, it felt different. Unsettling. Still, I shook the feeling off and forced myself to focus on my last email, my fingers moving lazily over the keyboard as exhaustion began to creep in.
Just as I was about to hit send and shut my laptop, a loud, urgent banging at the front door shattered the silence. My entire body tensed, my breath hitching in my throat. 
The sound wasn't a polite knock, it was forceful, as if whoever was outside had no patience left. My eyes widened as I stared toward the door, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The banging persisted, growing louder and more intense by the second, reverberating through my house. My pulse quickened. Who the hell would be at my door this late?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I hesitated for a moment before cautiously stepping forward. My bare feet barely made a sound against the hardwood floor as I approached, my fingers tightening around the edge of my sweatshirt. When I reached the door, I peered through the glass, I sighed a breath of relief at the sight before me.
Zayn. 
My brows furrowed as I swung the door open, the cold air biting at my skin. Before I could even process what was happening, Zayn shoved past me, his shoulder brushing against mine as he stormed into the house, taking me by surprise. His feet thudded against the hardwood floor, his movements sharp and agitated.
I barely had a chance to shut the door before his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Devin? Are you fucking serious?"
He stopped abruptly in the middle of my living room, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His hands curled into at sides as he turned to face me, his expression clouded with frustration, no, fury.
I flinched at his tone, my heart pounding in my chest. But I forced myself to stay calm, inhaling slowly as I met his gaze. "What are you talking about?"
Zayn let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, one I knew all too well. After nearly four years, I could recognize every version of him—the way his voice changed when he was angry, the way his body tensed when he was trying to hold something back. And right now, he was barely keeping it together.
"Don't act innocent now." He spoke. "Are you talking to Devin?"
My breath hitched and the ringing in my ears became noticeable.
I wasn't sure why I felt the urge to panic—this shouldn't bother him. He had been the one who set the rules from the beginning, who had made it clear that what we had wasn't supposed to mean anything. That night, all those years ago, he had looked me in the eye and told me we should keep things casual.