[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice Chapter 21: From Pain to Passion

This summary is told from Evric’s POV before he ets Zayn and after their paths cross. Starting from the next Chapter, the story dives deeper into their journey together.

Continue reading, and I trust that their journey of love may be challenging, but you’ll fall in love with it. Keep supporting. Thank you always.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I told Mr. Karl, "Zayn might start thinking I’m stalking him."

But the truth was, I wasn’t stalking him. It seed like fate had found a way to keep tangling our paths together. We bumped into each other in ways even though I couldn’t explain. Still, I felt it was starting to beco too much for him.

Zayn stopped answering my calls. He left my ssages unread. It was like he had started seeing as sothing dangerous. A weapon, maybe. Sothing he needed to avoid.

During that ti, my father had been pushing to et the daughter of one of his business partners, Vanya Martixus. She was a top model in the city, very popular and well-spoken, and she even managed her father’s company. But no matter how perfect she looked on paper, I didn’t like her. Not for . Not in any way.

My father kept calling, insisting I et her, but every ti he brought her up, it ended in a fight. That very day, after another screaming match over the phone, I shouted for him to stop trying to control my life. I was exhausted, ntally and emotionally.

He had sohow found out I was seeing soone new. He didn’t know who, but he knew it was a man. That was enough for him to lose control. He called again and threatened , saying that if I didn’t end things with this person, he would tear us apart just like he did with Nicki.

That broke .

I scread at him. I told him he had no right anymore. I warned him to stay away, that I wouldn’t let him ruin what hadn’t even properly begun yet.

The argunt shattered sothing inside . It brought all the pain rushing back. Everything from the past. Everything I thought I had buried.

I started crying uncontrollably, and before I knew it, I was throwing things around the room: books, pillows, and even my phone. My frustration only worsened when I tried calling Zayn again. He wasn’t answering my calls. No replies. Nothing.

Mr. Karl ca into the room when he heard the noise. He tried to calm down, but I couldn’t stop shouting. "Why isn’t he picking up?!" I cried, my voice hoarse and cracking.

He placed a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder. "I’ll try to reach him," he said softly. "But you need to calm yourself. If you keep acting like this, you won’t need your father to destroy things. You’ll end up doing it yourself."

His words stung, but they were true. So I tried to hold it together.

After everything... Zayn ca later.

When he entered my room, the maid was still there, cleaning up the ss I had made. He looked around, silently taking in the chaos before him. When the maid left and we were alone, he finally looked at .

"I thought you said you were sick," he said coldly. "But clearly, you lied."

I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him I was sick, not physically, but emotionally. My heart had been aching for days. I wanted to tell him about my father’s threats, about the pressure, the pain, and the fear. But when I looked into Zayn’s eyes, I saw no patience. No softness. Just distance.

Before I could say anything, he said quietly, "I’m leaving."

His words struck sothing inside . I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm.

He stood near the door, unmoved. He didn’t even glance at .

Not a single question. It’s not a single sign that he cared why I had been desperately trying to reach him.

That silence cut deeper than anything else.

He shrugged, avoiding my eyes, and said. "I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is anymore. Stop calling . Stop texting ."

I stood up and held his neck, ready to argue, but my knees felt weak. My body was drained, my emotions frayed. I was desperate, and I knew it showed.

"Is that what you want?" I whispered. "To leave ?"

He didn’t answer.

So I closed the space between us, my fingers gripping his shirt. "Then have one last ti." Before he could talk himself out of it, I stepped closer and kissed him.

"You want to leave, fine," I said, breathless. "But just stay with tonight."

What happened next wasn’t gentle.

It was raw, angry, and desperate. I needed to feel him. I needed to own him, if only for that night.

My body moved on instinct, my soul begging for sothing, anything, to stop the spiral. And he gave it to . He matched my hunger, my need.

I was rough with him at first. My body moved with desperation, trying to make him feel sothing, anything. I didn’t care how it started. I just needed him close. I needed to feel that he was still mine... even if it was only for a few stolen hours.

When it was over, I lay there breathing hard, terrified that he’d stand up and walk away. My pride had already shattered, so I reached for him and held onto his arm like it was the only thing keeping from falling apart.

"Please... hate , but don’t leave ," I whispered. My voice broke around the words. "You can hate , but please... not like this. Don’t just walk away."

He didn’t answer right away.

But he didn’t leave either.

We didn’t talk much after that, no deep confessions, no declarations of love. Just silence filled with everything we didn’t say.

And then it happened again.

This ti slower, deeper. As if we were trying to speak through our bodies, trying to fix what words couldn’t. Our movents were unhurried, his touch softer, more intentional. I t his eye, and sothing passed between us, sothing I couldn’t na but felt down to my bones.

When we both reached the peak together, I didn’t let go. I pulled him close and curled myself around him like a shield, like a silent promise.

And for the first ti in what felt like forever, I drifted off to sleep with his heartbeat under my cheek.

By morning, sothing had shifted.

I woke up first. Zayn was still fast asleep beside , his breathing steady, his face relaxed in a way that made my chest ache. I didn’t want to wake him. He looked so peaceful, like the night had softened sothing in him.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed downstairs. Jas had dropped off so files last night, so I settled at the dining table and began sorting through them. Before leaving the room, I made sure to leave a note and a fresh set of clothes for Zayn, just in case he needed sothing comfortable to change into when he woke up.

I had barely made progress on the first folder when my phone started vibrating again.

Rogan.

I hesitated for a second before answering, hoping, stupidly that it might be sothing simple.

But of course, it wasn’t.

His voice was sharp and cold. "I heard you brought the new guy ho. You really don’t waste any ti, do you?"

I froze.

Then ca the threat. "Either you do what I asked you to... or I’ll make sure the two of you don’t last. Don’t test ."

Sothing inside snapped.

"Stop calling !" I yelled into the phone, my voice shaking. "I don’t want anything to do with you. Not anymore!"

I ended the call with trembling fingers, but it was too late. The fear had already crept in cold and familiar. The thought of losing Zayn, of him being taken away, felt like the past was reaching up to drag back under. My breath hitched. The room blurred.

I collapsed onto the couch, curled in on myself, sobbing. I didn’t even hear Zayn co in until his voice broke through my panic.

"Hey... hey, I’m here."

His hands were on my shoulders, grounding . I leaned into him, clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

He wiped my tears gently, brushing his fingers along my cheek. Calm down, then ask, "Do you want sothing from what the maid cooked, or should I cook for you instead?"

I looked up at him, still sniffling. "You... cook for . Please."

He nodded, not saying a word, just got up and walked toward the kitchen. And sohow, that simple act made feel like everything wasn’t completely falling apart.