Liam was carefully wrapping the cream-colored bandage around my hand; twisting it around my palm and between my right thumb multiple times until my extremities felt numb from the resultant pressure. While I was looking in his general direction, I could also see his blurred silhouette through my tear-filled vision. My eyes were wet, threatening to spill over at any moment, but I hadn’t cried since Liam had pulled me out of the kitchen and helped me into the adjacent sunroom. He told me, soon after, that he had heard all of the commotion from the chef’s kitchen and, upon inspection, saw me sprawled on the ground from Zayn’s push. Once in the sunroom, he had seated me on a couch, brushed hair from my face, gently kissed my forehead, and then hurried out of the room to find bandage wraps and sterilizing alcohols. When he returned, he was carrying five rolls of bandages, obviously in a state of adrenaline rush and unable to logically realize that five rolls were far too much. Nonetheless, he was here, attending to the deep gash in my hand.
I let out a stiff laugh as I muttered, “I should report him for physical, marital abuse.” I think I meant it as a joke, but Liam looked up at me, his eyes filled with affliction; he most likely didn’t think I was joshing because, due to all the events that had taken place, I could file a very hefty lawsuit against Zayn, evening throwing in some criminal charges. But who was I kidding; I would never do that because, in the end, it would affect Molavi Industries and, primarily, my father. I was in a jail and the only one I could openly voice my discomfort to was Liam.
After tucking the end of the material into the soft cast he was just formed around my hand, Liam took a seat beside me. He was gentle in all of his gestures and mannerisms; as if I was a porcelain doll and he did not want to break me. Liam slid an arm over my shoulders and pulled me close to his chest. My head was resting against his heart and, for the time I lay against it, I counted the beating in his chest. It was soothing, like the sound of rain against a house shutter.
“Are you alright, Farah?” He asked quietly, still holding me tight.
I nodded into his chest. “Thank you.”
I could feel him smiling, tucking his chin over my head and gently playing with my hair. “There is no reason for you to thank me.”
“There is every reason to thank you.”
“I don’t know if it is my place to say so but,” He started, brushing his hand through my hair. “Don’t hold too heavy of a grudge against Zayn.”
I wasn’t planning on it as I hardly felt anymore anger, but I let him continue nonetheless.
“He’s broken from the inside out.” Liam said, a sadness sinking into his voice. “He was never loved by his father and he’s lost Rebecca’s love.”
I softly pushed off of his chest, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t think that’s necessarily true; Rebecca let him stay at her home. Isn’t that a sign of love?”
He was shaking his head at my question, a frown spreading across his face. “I think Rebecca is using him. She has always been that way, only after the weak when she gets lonely. As much as we are friends, I never truly understood why Zayn fell in love with her. In my opinion,” He started, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s absolutely nothing favorable about her in that manner.”
I looked away, feeling myself blush as I remembered our kiss from nearly a week ago. Obviously, how I had thrown myself at him like a rabid animal didn’t bother him in the least; he was treating me so affectionately now. As much as my insides jumped in somersaults at his touch, I simultaneously felt a ping of guilt in the back of my chest. I could not, however, distinguish for what and why I was feeling this guilt.
I brought myself back to the conversation. “I wish Rebecca had simply eloped with Zayn. That way, the both of us would have been infinitely happier than we currently are.” I said these words without an ounce of sarcasm or bitterness in my voice; I genuinely believed that if Zayn had run off with Rebecca, then both of our lives would have been better.
A wearily smile spread across Liam’s face. “I agree for the most part but, then, how would we have met?”
The ping of guilt returned, throbbing at the back of my chest. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and loving; I had never been looked upon by eyes like his. It should feel good to be loved, but why was this discomfort looming over me like a dark cloud? Why was this heartache only affecting me? Why wasn’t Zayn hurting as well? Why was it always only me?
