[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 ti, if we still can’t understand and respect each other, what will beco 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 ."

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

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

He settled back down, pulling 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 soone 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 mont he saw his friends, he would revert. He always did.

This is not the first ti, 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 soone else first.

You need to experience that disrespect from the other side.

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

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 sll 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 feel welco. "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 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 . "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 argunt, 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 monts of panic," I said. "And he’s used to forgiving him imdiately. I explained, I believe he only said he’d learned his lesson because you stepped in. Once we go back ho, once he’s around his friends again, everything he promised will happen all over again. This isn’t the first ti 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 and starts respecting what partnership really ans."

"I need him to face the consequences of putting soone else before . 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 one thing, don’t go too far. Teach him the lesson, but don’t break him in the process."

I t 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 imdiately picked up her humming and returned to flipping the plantain, the dostic 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 ca to . He leaned in close, his familiar scent of sleepy skin and my shower gel washing over . "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 dread of, a cruel reminder of what we were capable of when we weren’t consud 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 soti this weekend, right?"

"Yes, dear, that’s right," she confird, 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 . 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..."