Bound by Fate

Chapter 17: Chronicles of Candor: Addressing the Past and Present

'Zac'
Zac perched on the edge of the bed, his mind racing to piece together the events of the previous night. He was baffled as to why China was in his bed, the night's memories flickered through his thoughts like snapshots in a camera roll. Some moments were clear, while others were hazy. What he did know for sure was that he hadn't reached out to China. He had stopped contacting her months ago due to her clingy behavior. He tapped in his PIN code with practiced ease and the screen came to life, crowded with alerts. He skimmed through the sea of notifications until her name caught his eye.

Pausing for a moment to brace himself, he began to carefully read through the messages from Fatima. Each text, each word, sent his heart tumbling further into despair. Even through her annoyance at his silence, the genuine concern in her words cut through, and her voicemail only served to twist the knife. The unease that permeated her inebriated words was unfiltered and raw, a true reflection of Fatima's emotions. It carried an authenticity that couldn't be ignored, and its impact was deeply felt, and it stung. The voicemail ended, leaving Zac in a silence that was too loud, too full of what ifs. He quickly navigated to her contact and pressed call. The phone rang, each tone a pulse of hope, but it was met with the emptiness of voicemail. He tried again, three more times, desperation mounting with each attempt, but the result was the same.

Setting his phone aside, Zac cradled his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as if to erase not just the physical pain of his pounding headache, but the mental torment of his racing thoughts and deepening irritation with himself. The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room as Zac mustered the strength to stand. The weight of the previous night's indiscretions pressed upon him, leaving him keenly aware of the lingering aftereffects. Each step was a defiance of the hammering ache in his temples. He untangled himself from the chaos of the bedsheets, his body protesting every movement in the battle with his aching head. Shuffling to the bathroom with the gait of a man twice his age, Zac reached for the solace of the medicine cabinet. His hands, guided by muscle memory, found the aspirin.

He popped two capsules into his mouth, the bitter taste barely registering. With a turn of the faucet, he scooped a splash of water, swallowing the pills in hopes of staving off the relentless headache. The journey back to the bedroom was short but arduous. Upon his return, Zac's gaze fell upon the unexpected figure still nestled in his bed. Without hesitation, he whipped the covers off China, her peaceful slumber disrupted. She stirred, her limbs stretching languidly as she greeted the day and him with a slow, "Good morning, Zac." The words hung in the air, incongruous with the tension that knotted Zac's brow. "China, what the fuck are you doing here?" Zac's voice was a mix of disbelief and simmering anger, a stark contrast to her serene awakening. Her words were slow and deliberate as she replied, "You were pretty smashed at the club last night. So I brought you home," she mumbled, still half in the grip of sleep.

Zac's mind raced, piecing together the hazy memories. "I know I was out of it, but I was clear about wanting solitude. So why are you here?" China propped herself up on her elbows, a frown creasing her forehead. "You don't remember, do you? After Preston helped you to the car, you changed your mind and asked me to drive you home." A look of perplexity crossed Zac's face. "I don't recall any of that, and regardless of whether you drove me home or not, it doesn't clarify why you're here in my bed." "Well," China began, a defensive edge creeping into her voice, "you asked me to stay because you said you missed me. I don't see the problem here, Zac." Zac's response was resolute, his voice carrying a mixture of frustration and a flicker of recollection. "I'm sure you don't see the problem, I was going through something, and I tried to drown it out with alcohol.

However, I didn't ask you to stay, China that I'm sure of. Her eyes met his, a hint of defiance in her gaze. "If you can't remember the night, how can you be so certain about what you did or didn't ask of me?" "Cut the bullshit, China," Zac snapped, his irritation flaring. "I'm already in a bad mood, and this is just making it worse." China's expression softened, regret flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Zac. I didn't realize this would upset you so much." Zac's gaze pierced through the room, his eyes locked onto China as he spoke with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "This is not a fucking game," he said, his voice tinged with intensity. "I faintly remember stumbling into the house, making my way to bed, and then... you came in after me." His words trailed off, as if the floodgates of memory had been opened, revealing a rush of vivid recollections.