CHAPTER SEVEN: THE WRONG YES
EMERY POV
I stood wearily, clutching my arm tightly.
If looks could bore holes, Zayn would be transparent by now. I couldn't breathe again, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest.
What was he going to say? Would he really mention me out loud, here in front of our parents? Please don't... Zayn.
He opened his mouth to continue speaking. Everything went silent.
Anxiousness clouded Richard's and my mom's faces. Their necks craned forward, eager to hear who'd struck Zayn's heart.
My head was pounding loudly. If only they knew how close I was to collapsing right here.
"She's right here in my heart. I've always loved her."
My breath caught.
I should have felt relieved. Instead, my throat burned like I was swallowing acid.
The look on his face—one I'd never seen before. He looked like a powerless man. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his pupils dilated. Like I'd just caused him the greatest pain ever. Like he'd never get over this.
But I loved that he'd acknowledged my feelings. That led me to ask myself for the tenth time:
Is it okay to let him go? It was clear he was freeing me, respecting my decision. Was I doing the right thing?
"That's great, son," Richard said in a cheerful tone. His face looked like Zayn had just lifted a burden off him.
"She's gone..." Zayn whispered while Richard patted him on the shoulder, still resting on Zayn's arm for support.
Zayn raised his head to look at me, his eyes holding things I didn't dare name. The only thought echoing in my mind was: *I hurt him.*
"She left even before it could blossom. Even before I could show her what we really wanted." He broke his gaze from me. Whatever assurance we'd given each other in that room was gone. Because of me. Because even after all these years, I still chose to make stupid decisions and hide in my shell.
He's dying.
That was the only reason I could give myself for being reluctant to finally accept the man I'd been dreaming about.
"It's fine, son. We all have a love story like that. If she isn't meant for you, she's not meant for you." Richard assured him.
Zayn turned back to face me, and with a painful smirk, he mouthed: *"Have your time and games, and play them well. I'm not giving up on us. Not even if that's your wish."*
I swallowed hard. My mother frowned.
She saw Zayn's lips moving. My heart hammered.
Did she hear anything?
Zayn led Richard to the sofa.
"World Hockey Day is tomorrow. I'm receiving guests at the mansion across from us."
"Ohhh," Richard replied, squeezing his hand.
"Let me go get ready." Zayn muttered. Without sparing me a glance—or my mother, who was definitely wondering if she'd heard correctly—he started heading upstairs.
His scent didn't spare me. It found my nose and penetrated into my skull. That sweet tulip fragrance.
God. I wanted this, right? I chose to let him go. So why was my chest hurting this much?
Tears were already forming in my eyes.
"Emery," my mother called, and I flinched. "You look like a statue. Are you okay?"
"Oh! Yes. I'm okay." I breathed heavily. Zayn's footsteps were still echoing in my mind.
"What do you say about being Zayn's IVF doctor? Uncle Logan proposed it, and I remember you handling a couple of cases a few weeks ago. Will you, dear?" My mother said.
I glanced back at Zayn. His retreating footsteps had stopped.
He was waiting.
To hear my answer.
My mind was in turmoil. What should I say?
I couldn't possibly say no to this. But he was listening. He was watching my every move. He didn't turn, but his back sent chills down my spine.
Richard was looking at me now. I couldn't possibly say no.
With my mouth dry, I forced out the word. It tasted like venom. "Yes."
The moment the word left my mouth, Zayn resumed walking upstairs.
I grabbed the railing to keep myself from falling on my face.
Richard beamed at me while my mother went to him and served him juice.
They began to chat, leaving me alone with my terrible decisions.
I broke his trust even before he fully let me in.
The chiming of my phone broke through the fog in my mind. I searched frantically for it in my pocket.
Lucia. My assistant.
My eyes flew wide. Fuck. I had an appointment at the hospital.
When did I become so incompetent that I forgot to check my schedule?
I picked up the call and her voice rang through. "Ma'am, there's an emergency. A hockey player got injured on the ice."
Right. This was my calling. The position I'd strived to achieve since his absence.
A doctor specialized in treating injured sports players.
I grabbed my jacket—or maybe his. Fuck. I realized that after getting to the door.
I was supposed to turn back and drop it on the sofa.
But I put it on anyway, letting his scent engulf me as I ran out.
"Emergency?" I heard my mother call after me, but I was already outside. "Stay safe! Drive carefully!"
I ran to my car and headed straight to the hospital, my pulse pounding hard.
I shouldn't even be home right now. What was I thinking? Evenings were always hectic at Blackwood Hospital.
Thankfully, there wasn't much traffic. I got to the hospital quickly.
"Dr. Emery, the patient has a strain in his leg. Top hockey player in Houston. He has a game tomorrow and needs to be treated before then."
I walked briskly, with Lucia following fast behind me until we got to the patient's private ward.
"His ID reads Cassian Hale," Lucia concluded as I opened the door to the ward.
Lying on the hospital bed was a male patient. His piercing deep emerald eyes stared at the door, waiting patiently for his doctor.
I stepped in. "I'm so sorry for taking this long." The guy nodded, his eyes still on me. "I'll treat you now."
"No problem." His deep baritone made me look at him again.
A few minutes later, I was done examining him.
"It's just a mild Grade-1 muscle strain with no tearing. You can rest for a while until you're back to normal," I said to him, professional as I should be.
I checked his leg one more time. "You look exactly like what I've heard." My hand halted, and I frowned.
What was he saying?
"Do you know me?" I asked, then realized almost immediately I was being stupid.
After the Blackwood company introduced me as their lead sports medicine doctor, I'd gotten quite popular.
I scoffed at my own oblivion—until he whispered, "I never knew I'd be meeting you like this. I've seen a lot about you."
*Seen?*
His full lips rolled the words out like he wasn't saying something I didn't quite understand.
I forced a smile and left the ward hurriedly.
What was that eerie feeling?
"Phew," I breathed, brushing the thought off.
As I headed toward my office, my mind wandered back to Zayn.
Soon, I'd be home, and his supposed baby mama would be there too.
The thought felt suffocating. It constricted my throat.
Pushing the door to my office open, I stepped in and locked it. The thought of spending the night here crossed my mind.
But what would that make me? A coward?
I trailed my hand along my desk while the other hand held his jacket—the one I should have left on the sofa.
That's when my phone chimed.
A message from an unknown number: **"Treat him well, unless you want to get hurt."**
Who sent this?
My hands were shaking terribly. My pulse threatened to explode.
"Is... is that a threat?"
My voice came out as a whisper.
