[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 357: Breaking Points and Broken Hearts

~Zayn’s POV~

The refined mask he wore began to crumble, but I was too far gone in my own pain to care. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"I didn’t plan to forgive you, and I’m still not planning to," I spat, the words fueled by a decade of suppressed rage. "Because let’s be honest, if you weren’t dying, you wouldn’t even remember you had children. You only came to find us because you’re terrified of what’s on the other side of that surgery. You only care now because you’ve run out of time."

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer a single excuse. He sat there and let me tear into him, his silence a heavy admission of guilt. Tears blurred his eyes, spilling over and tracing the lines of a face I had tried so hard to forget. He took every word, every insult, like a man accepting a death sentence.

"I’m so sorry, Zayn," he finally spoke, his voice broken and raw. "I’m more sorry than these words can ever convey. I regret that I only found the courage to stand before you when there was almost no hope left for me. I’m a coward for waiting until the end."

"Sorry?" I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh, tears finally streaming down my face. "You took my childhood from me! You took Liana’s too! While other children were playing, I was barely a teenager trying to figure out how we were going to survive. I had to be a man before I even knew how to be a boy because you weren’t there!"

My voice rose, cutting through the murmurs of nearby tables, but I didn’t care. "And you ruined Mom! You made her give up her work, forced her into being a ’perfect’ housewife, and then betrayed her with another woman. You wouldn’t let her go, dragging out her suffering until the divorce finally shattered her. You took away her career, and then you took away her dignity."

He lowered his head, his hands trembling violently on the table. "I tried, Zayn. I tried to send her money, tried to give her child support, but she... she wouldn’t accept a single cent from me."

I let out a bitter, hollow chuckle, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "Of course she refused! Who would accept anything from a selfish man like you? A man who only thinks about his own ego, his own desires? She had more pride in her little finger than you have in your entire body."

"I know," he choked out, his voice breaking, shoulders sagging as if the weight of his tailored suit had become unbearable. "I know I’ve failed all of you. I am truly, deeply sorry."

"I don’t want your ’sorry’!" I yelled, the words tearing from my throat. I pushed back from the table, my vision swimming with a mixture of heat and tears. I refused to listen to another word, refused to let his late-arrival regrets wash away years of trauma. I was drowning in a sea of anger, and no amount of remorse from a dying man was going to pull me out.

Just as I was about to stand and tell him to leave, a solid, familiar presence stopped me. I looked up to see Evric sliding into the booth beside me. His tall, commanding frame felt like a wall, a shield against the ghost of my past. Without hesitation, his hand found mine under the table, gripping it tightly.

"Calm down, babe," Evric whispered, his voice a low, steady anchor in my storm.

My father’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and searching through the tears in his eyes. It was as if he were silently pleading with Evric, begging him to speak to me.

"Zayn, breathe," Evric said softly, leaning closer to me. "We talked about this, remember? Just try to stay calm." He didn’t take sides; he wasn’t there to judge or blame a man he barely knew, but he was there to manage the wreckage. He looked at me with an expression that pleaded for a moment of grace, not necessarily forgiveness, but just enough space to let the man speak before his time ran out.

My father cleared his throat, his voice trembling. "I understand, Zayn. I understand every bit of that anger, and you have every right to feel it. I’m not here to tell you you’re wrong."

He paused, adjusting the cuff of his expensive suit with shaking fingers. "I’ll be checking into the hospital tomorrow. They need me there two days before the surgery for preparations. I... I would love to see you there. Both of you. Please, bring Liana. I just want to see her face one last time."

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look at him. I stared at the wood grain of the table, my jaw clamped shut so tight it ached. I didn’t care about his schedule or his hospital room.

When my father finally stood to leave, accepting that I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a response, it was Evric who spoke instead.

"Which hospital, sir?" he asked calmly. "And the address?"

My father looked at Evric with profound gratitude. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and sent the hospital address to him in a message.

Evric felt his phone vibrate. He glanced at the screen, then nodded once. "I’ve got it."

My father looked at Evric and thanked him for his help.

Evric inclined his head slightly, his voice calm and respectful. "You’re welcome, sir."

Then he turned to me and said, "Goodbye, Zayn," lingering for a moment as if hoping I would meet his gaze.

I didn’t.

I kept my eyes fixed on the floor until the sound of his polished shoes faded, clicking steadily as he walked away toward the exit.

The moment the restaurant door closed behind him, the adrenaline drained out of me all at once. I turned and collapsed into Evric, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his chest as sobs tore free into his shirt. The weight of the encounter finally hit me, my fury dissolving into a hollow, bone-deep exhaustion that left me shaking in his hold.

"It’s okay," Evric murmured, his hands stroking my back, holding me together as I fell apart. "It’s okay, Zayn. I’m right here. I’ve got you."

He let me cry until the jagged edges of my breathing finally began to smooth out. Once the storm in my chest had subsided into a dull ache, Evric stood up and gently guided me to stay put for a moment. He walked back into my office, returning a minute later with my phone and wallet. Without a word, he took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine with a firm, protective grip.

"Come on," he said softly. "Follow me."

He guided me out of the restaurant, positioning himself slightly in front of me, shielding me from the curious glances of the staff. Instead of heading back to the house, he slipped into the driver’s seat of the car. I took the passenger seat beside him, and without a word, he pulled away from the curb, steering us away from the noise and bright lights of the city center.

After a moment, I glanced at him. "What about your driver?"

"I told him to head home already," Evric replied calmly, eyes fixed on the road.

We eventually pulled over near the base of the City High Bridge. The city lights stretched out across the water like scattered diamonds, and the air up here was cool and crisp, smelling of the river and the night.

"Let’s take a walk," he said.

We stepped onto the pedestrian walkway of the bridge. The height was dizzying, but with Evric’s hand in mine, I felt grounded. We walked until we reached the center, where the wind whipped around us, carrying away the lingering scent of the heavy atmosphere of the restaurant.

Evric stopped and pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, looking out at the vast, shimmering horizon.

"Look at the city, Zayn," he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Look at how big the world is. Everything that happened in that booth tonight..."