[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 330: The Hard Way Tangled Hearts

~Zayn’s POV~

He reached up, brushing his fingers gently across my face, his eyes heavy with worry. "But I’m scared... scared that after all this time, if we still can’t understand and respect each other, what will become of our marriage?"

The fear in his voice was genuine, and it was the strongest barrier I had ever faced. I knew then that my apologies weren’t enough. I had to earn back his belief in our future.

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "We should sleep, babe."

I tightened my embrace. "Daddy, kiss me."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, a soft, tired smile gracing his lips. He leaned in and kissed me gently, a tender touch that promised solace, not passion.

When he pulled away, I held him closer. "Hold me," I instructed softly, needing the solid reassurance of his presence.

He settled back down, pulling me flush against his chest. His arm draped securely over my waist, and I burrowed into his warmth, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. We lay there, entwined, clutching onto the fragile hope that, after all the ugliness and tears, everything truly would get better tomorrow.

~Evric’s POV~

I held Zayn close, my arm draped securely over his waist, feeling the warmth of his small, pliant body against mine. I kissed his forehead and said, "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Daddy," he murmured back, sounding safe and loved.

I closed my eyes, but sleep was miles away. The raw fear from earlier was settling into a cold, hard determination.

They say people only learn the hard way. The bitter voice echoed in my mind.

I know you, Zayn. You won’t learn, not until you know exactly how it feels to be put last; to have someone treat you like an afterthought, without respecting you or seeking your opinion first.

All the promises he just made, I’ve learned my lesson, it won’t happen again, they were lies, born of panic and my mother-in-law’s intervention. The moment he saw his friends, he would revert. He always did.

This is not the first time, but it will be the last.

I knew what I was about to do was wrong, deeply selfish, but I justified it with the pain I had already endured.

I’ll shake you, Zayn. I’ll hurt you just enough to make you understand. Just enough for you to finally see how it feels when you put someone else first.

You need to experience that disrespect from the other side.

I shifted slightly, tightening my embrace, a silent, grim resolve settling over me.

I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I love you so much, Zayn."

"I love you more," Zayn mumbled sleepily, nestled against my chest.

I held Zayn until his breathing evened out, my mind already coldly planning the next move that would finally, definitively, make him understand the cost of his actions. I drifted into a restless sleep, the determination hardening with every passing hour.

The next morning, I woke before dawn, slipping quietly out of the bedroom so as not to disturb Zayn. The guilt was there, a dull ache, but it was overshadowed by my resolve.

I found Zayn’s mother already in the kitchen, bathed in the soft, early morning light, humming quietly as she prepared breakfast. The smell of frying plantain and brewing coffee filled the air.

"Good morning, Mom," I greeted her softly, stepping into the room.

She smiled warmly, a genuine, loving smile that always made me feel welcome. "Ah, good morning, dear. You’re up early."

"Yes, Mom," I said, walking over to the counter.

"What can I help you with?" I asked.

She waved me off. "It’s fine. I can do it all myself."

But I insisted. I pulled up a stool and started helping with whatever I could manage.

She leaned against the counter, observing me. "Did you two manage to work things out last night? Did Zayn apologize?"

I paused, carefully choosing my words. "He did, Mom. He apologized sincerely for the argument, and he apologized for saying that terrible thing."

I placed the knife down, looking at her honestly. "But it’s not about the apology, Mom. It’s about him realizing what he did, the deeper habit."

I explained my fear quietly.

"Zayn is used to apologizing in moments of panic," I said. "And he’s used to me forgiving him immediately. I explained, I believe he only said he’d learned his lesson because you stepped in. Once we go back home, once he’s around his friends again, everything he promised will happen all over again. This isn’t the first time he’s ignored my feelings like this."

I ran a hand over my jaw, my resolve sharpening.

"I don’t just want him to apologize, Mom. I want him to completely let go of that attitude, that habit of ignoring his partner’s feelings like they don’t matter. He needs to truly understand it, to feel how damaging it is, so he stops dismissing me and starts respecting what partnership really means."

"I need him to face the consequences of putting someone else before me. That’s why I have a plan, Mom."

Zayn’s mother listened, her expression shifting from concern to deep understanding. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Whatever will make your relationship stronger, Evric, you must do it. A marriage needs mutual respect to survive, not just love," she advised, her voice low. "If you feel this is the only way to break that pattern, then you have my blessing. But please, promise me one thing, don’t go too far. Teach him the lesson, but don’t break him in the process."

I met her eyes, giving her my solemn assurance. "I only want Zayn to learn, Mom. I want him to look forward to our future together, and that can’t happen if he’s constantly afraid of feeling controlled, or if I’m constantly afraid of being disrespected."

Just as she started to speak again, the floorboards creaked down the hall. We both instinctively stopped talking. Zayn’s mom immediately picked up her humming and returned to flipping the plantain, the domestic sounds filling the space.

Zayn walked into the kitchen, looking rested and soft, wearing one of my oversized T-shirts. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking in the morning light.

He walked over to his mother first. "Good morning, Mom," he said, hugging her.

Then he came to me. He leaned in close, his familiar scent of sleepy skin and my shower gel washing over me. "Good morning," he said softly, before whispering right into my ear, "Daddy."

I felt the corners of my mouth lift instantly. The smile was genuine, a reflex I couldn’t suppress. I was utterly captivated by him, even while steeling myself to teach him a painful lesson.

Zayn then set to work, grabbing plates and cutlery, helping his mother arrange the dining table, setting up the beautiful breakfast we were about to share. He was being exactly the sweet partner I always dreamed of, a cruel reminder of what we were capable of when we weren’t consumed by conflict.

Once the table was beautifully set, the three of us sat down to eat. The conversation started innocuously, focused on small family matters.

Zayn picked at his plantain, then looked at his mother. "Mom, Liana said she’ll be back sometime this weekend, right?"

"Yes, dear, that’s right," she confirmed, sipping her tea.

Zayn’s brow creased with concern. "Mom, how do you manage when Liana isn’t around? I worry about you being alone."

She smiled warmly, reassuringly. "I’m fine, darling. You don’t have to worry about me. I keep myself busy."

Zayn opened his mouth, clearly ready to launch into a deeper line of questioning about her well-being, perhaps feeling the guilt of his own absence. But his mother cut him off gently, placing her hand over his.

"Focus on your food for now, Zayn," she instructed softly, but with a firm note beneath it. "We need to talk..."