[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 232: Where Comfort Feels Like Guilt

~Evric’s POV~

"Evric," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "You are cooked."

I blinked at him, my throat dry. "What... what do you mean?"

"Evric," he repeated, louder this time.

"Yes?" My voice cracked, barely holding together.

"You have to listen to me," Evans said, his tone calm but urgent.

"Okay—okay, I’ll listen," I stammered, my breathing suddenly coming out in short, uneven bursts. My chest felt tight. "I’m listening, Evans, I started hyperventilating, breathing too high in my chest.

Evans’s tone shifted immediately from judge to brother. He stepped closer and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders. "Breathe. Just breathe first, Evric. Calm down."

"I am breathing, Evans!" I insisted, trying to suck in air that felt like sawdust.

Evans placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me. Zayn is not going anywhere. He’s your man, Evric. He’s yours alone."

I shook my head violently, the tears blurring my vision. "Yes, he’s mine! He won’t go anywhere!" I was practically screaming the reassurance at myself. My voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "Am I... Am I in the video? Did I have sex with him?"

Evans looked over at Chrisly. The two exchanged a hesitant glance, both struggling to find words. When Chrisly opened his mouth to speak, Evans raised his hand to stop him.

"Forget about the video for now," Evans said firmly. "Let’s focus on how we’re going to talk to Zayn."

That’s when the dam broke again. I started crying, harder this time, my chest heaving. "Talk to him about what?" I gasped. "What do you even want me to say?" My voice rose in panic, my words spilling faster and faster.

"Evric, calm down," Evans urged, his voice low but firm.

"No, you don’t get it, Evans!" I snapped, my breath hitching between sobs. "Do you know how many times I had to convince Zayn that he satisfies me in bed? Do you know how many times he thought he wasn’t good enough, that Nicki was better?" My voice trembled with agony. "We fought over it so many times before he finally believed me! For someone who always felt like he wasn’t enough, and now this?"

I gripped my chest, the pain agonizing. "And now? He traveled for how many weeks, and I went, got drunk, and ended up having sex with that person! Won’t that sound like an excuse to you also?" I was speaking out of raw, agonizing pain, trying desperately to control the flood of emotion. "Don’t you get it, Evans?"

My voice cracked into raw pain. "Don’t you get it, Evans?"

I began to wail, hysterical and heartbroken. Nuala, unable to watch, rushed forward and pulled me into a protective embrace. "Evric, darling, stop. What happened wasn’t cheating; it was assault. That is what Nicki did to you!"

"I know!" I muffled into Nuala’s shoulder. "But Zayn won’t listen! He warned me about this, he said if I ever slept with someone else, I shouldn’t bother explaining. I should just break—"

"Before you hurt yourself, see how he will react first!" Evans roared, his frustration boiling over with his care. "Evric, please! Don’t hurt yourself."

I couldn’t breathe. "Zayn will break up with me!" I choked out. "He might look past everything else, but this is the one thing he will never forgive. Never. He will never erase me having sex with another man, especially when that man is Nicki! Evans!" I called his name, clinging desperately to Nuala.

Evans suddenly straightened. "Let me find a way to confirm if the video is real," he said firmly. "But, Evric—if you don’t stop crying, I won’t check anything."

The command was so sharp, so absolute, that I stopped, my sobs turning into ragged hiccups. Chrisly, seeing I was functional again, moved closer.

"God, this Nicki is damn scary. He’s a psychopath," Chrisly murmured, pulling me toward him and Nuala for a three-way hug. "It’s okay, Evric."

"He is," Nuala agreed, stroking my back. "It’s a trap, Evric. We have to believe the video is fake and focus on getting you ready for tomorrow."

"Yes," I rasped, straightening up. "Tomorrow. I need to pick Zayn up." I rubbed my face, forcing myself into a semblance of control. "I need to go back to my house. I need to prepare. I have to be ready to pick him up tomorrow."

I spent the next hour with my siblings, trying to find some anchor. As the hour grew late, Evans came back to me.

"My advice to you," Evans began, his tone calm but firm. "You need to face your fear head-on. If you think telling Zayn over the phone will only make things worse, that’s fine. But the moment he arrives, you have to tell him everything yourself. Don’t wait for Nicki to move first. Whether the video is real or not, the truth needs to come from you before anyone else gets the chance to twist it."

I nodded once, the weight of his advice crushing me. "Okay. I understand."

After exchanging tense, silent hugs with my siblings, I was back in my car heading home. The house felt cavernous and mocking. All I could manage was a long, scalding shower to wash away the scent of fear. I didn’t want to think, so I poured a small drink, just enough to dull the edge of the anxiety, and fell into a shallow, fitful sleep, waiting for the dawn.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was Zayn.

"Good morning, baby," his voice came through, warm and excited. "I’m already on my way back. Should be there soon."

"Good morning, my love," I managed, a genuine smile finally breaking through the tension. "Okay, love. See you soon," I replied, trying to sound calm even though my heart was racing.

After the call ended, I went downstairs and managed to eat a light breakfast. The hours felt painfully slow, and before I knew it, I was already in the car, heading out to meet him.

When I arrived, I didn’t have to wait long. The moment I saw Zayn stepping out of the terminal, my chest tightened, and every anxious thought vanished. His face alone made me forget everything else. I walked up to him quickly, unable to hold back the smile spreading across my face.

"Babe," I breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

He wrapped his arms around me immediately, his embrace warm and soft. "I missed you so much, babe," he murmured against my shoulder.

"I missed you too," I whispered, holding him tighter than I meant to. For a brief second, it felt like the world finally stopped spinning.

My driver took Zayn’s bags, and we both slid into the back seat. The second the door closed, Zayn turned, pulling me flush against his side. He held me tight, burying his face in my neck, clinging to me as if it had been years since we last touched.

After a moment of pure, blissful silence, Zayn pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes full of tenderness. Then, his expression changed, deepening with immediate concern.

"Baby," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing along my jaw. "Why do you look so stressed? Work’s finally getting better, but you look so thin... like you haven’t been sleeping well."

I tightened my arms around him, forcing a relaxed smile. "I’m fine, really. I just missed you," I lied smoothly. "Since you weren’t here, I couldn’t take care of myself very well. I needed my keeper."

Zayn’s smile returned, warm and full of love. He cupped my cheeks in his large, gentle hands and said softly, "Don’t worry, baby. I’m back now, I’ll take care of you."

We spent the rest of the short drive in a silent embrace, his head resting on my shoulder, his presence a heavy, comforting weight.

Finally, the car pulled up to our house. I looked at the grand entrance, at the man resting beside me, and said, "Welcome back home, baby."

We stepped inside, the familiar scent of the house wrapping around us. Zayn, clearly exhausted from the trip and the long hospital vigil, only managed to eat a few bites of the light lunch prepared for him. He was operating purely on excitement and relief.

"I just need five minutes of sleep," he conceded, pulling me by the hand toward the stairs.

We reached the bedroom. He went straight into the bathroom, emerging a short while later from a quick shower, smelling so good. He immediately fell onto the bed and came under the duvet.

He didn’t hesitate, rolling right against me and resting his head squarely on my chest, the familiar weight instantly relaxing him.

"Mmm, I missed sleeping right here," he mumbled, his voice thick with drowsy contentment.

He was truly tired. I held him, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear—a fragile, beautiful reality I was about to shatter.

I fell completely silent, the weight of Evans’s advice, to tell him the moment he arrives, becoming unbearable. Zayn, despite his exhaustion, noticed my sudden stiffness.

He lifted his head, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at me. His eyes were soft but concerned. "Babe, is everything okay? You look troubled. Is there anything still going on?"

I gave him a weak, hopeless smile. "Not really," I said, my voice barely steady. "But... I have something I really need to say to you."

He frowned slightly, the tiredness receding as he sensed the seriousness. He shifted his weight, giving me his full attention. "Okay. I’m listening."

I looked up at him, the serious expression on my face mirroring the crushing fear in my heart. He deserved the truth. He deserved better than me.

I took a shaky breath, preparing to launch the words that would either save us or destroy us.

"Babe, listen to me..." I started, my voice cracking. "I—"