[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 264: Choices and Consequences

~Evric’s POV~

The driver moved through the quiet night streets, but I wasn’t seeing any of it. All I could see was Zayn’s face, the shock when he noticed me, the panic when he pushed Meera away, and that broken look he had in the car.

I had just driven away from the man I loved after telling him he needed to choose between me and Meera. And honestly... I was terrified.

The risk I had just taken was astronomical. My heart was a frantic, wounded bird beating against my ribs, screaming that I was making a terrible mistake, that I was handing Zayn back to the life he was supposed to have.

But I had reached my limit. I could no longer handle the constant blame.

Ever since Zayn and I started this relationship, the world hasn’t stopped pointing fingers at me. He was straight before Evric. Evric corrupted him. Evric is the reason Zayn became gay.

Those were the whispers, an invisible pressure that wrapped around my throat every day. Yes, I was the one who made the first move. Yes, I was persistent, because I knew what I felt for him was real. I was his first man. But our love was real—mutual, honest, and chosen. I never forced him into anything. I never made him choose me.

Yet somehow, everyone—even Meera—painted me as the villain who pulled him off the "right" path, as if loving me was a mistake he had been tricked into.

I was tired of feeling like a parasite feeding off his confusion.

Tonight, hearing Meera say out loud every cruel thing she thought about us, the "perfect family," the "beautiful children," the life I could never give him, hit me harder than I expected.

For the first time, I realized I hadn’t truly given Zayn the space to choose his own future. I was always there, close, constant, comforting. I became the easy place for him to fall, the person who held him, protected him, and made him feel safe. But maybe, without meaning to, I made it hard for him to see what he really wanted beyond me. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

This is the only way to prove them all wrong.

If Zayn chooses to leave me after this, if he weighs the comfort Meera offers against the uncertainty of a life with me, then maybe the world was right, and I was guiding him down a path he didn’t truly want. It would break me, but I would have to respect his choice.

But if he comes back? If he walks into that room on the final day and chooses me, knowing the price and knowing his other options, then I will have the only proof I need. His choice will be pure. It will be his own. And then, no amount of whispering or public shaming will ever make me question our love again.

I rested my head against the cold glass of the window. The weight of the choice, whether he would pick me or not, felt like a lifetime of torment, but I had to stay strong. I needed Zayn to choose me freely... or not at all. That desperate gamble was the only thing keeping my sanity intact.

The next morning, I was forcing myself to focus on a market report when my phone buzzed. Zayn’s name lit up the screen. My heart jumped instantly, breaking through the discipline I was trying so hard to maintain. I answered on the second ring.

"Morning, babe," I managed, trying to keep my voice flat.

"Morning, baby," he replied. "Listen, I just got a call again from the police. They need me to come in for some questioning regarding Nantam."

I tightened my grip on the phone. "Alright, babe... just be careful."

"I will," he assured me. "But there’s something else, Nicki and Dean came to the house yesterday after you dropped me off."

I felt a sharp rush of cold possessiveness. "Are they the reason behind whatever decision you’re about to make?"

"No, babe. Actually, it’s the opposite," Zayn said. "They came to beg me for mercy. They weren’t trying to force anything on anyone. They both apologized—for everything Nicki put me through. Dean even begged on behalf of both of them because he knows Nicki played his own part in Nantam’s madness. I think Nicki finally realized how serious all of this is."

"And second," Zayn continued, "I called Evans right after I got the police notice, just so I could speak to him first. I told him I was ready to put this whole thing behind me."

I held my breath, listening as he recounted the conversation with my brother. Evans told him to follow his own judgment. If Zayn wanted Nantam to face the consequences, that was his right, but if he chose to show mercy, that decision was entirely his.

Zayn’s voice was steady as he repeated his words to Evans. "I told him, ’I have no reason not to show mercy. I have far more important things to focus on than wasting time on this.’"

A wave of emotion hit me. This wasn’t about anything, it was Zayn choosing peace, choosing to move forward. This was the strength I had always admired.

"Then Evans said something else," Zayn continued. "He told me that no one is allowed to bail Nantam out except him. I assured him I wasn’t going there to bail him out, I was only going to close the case."

After he hung up, I waited for hours, unable to work, imagining the choice he was facing. The core of my ultimatum was to make him consider the alternative, and now the universe was providing him a clean slate with his friends and an easy way out of the drama.

Later, I called him back. "How did it go? Is everything finally over?"

"It’s over, babe," he confirmed, sounding lighter than he had in weeks. "I already did my part. I managed the situation."

He explained that he had walked into the station and denied everything. He told the investigators the report was untrue, claiming it was fueled by stress over his mother and the painful breakup with his partner. He told them he was only "seeking attention" at the time.

"I took back every accusation he made," Zayn said quietly. "I pushed them to close the case. It’s finished now."

My relief was overwhelming. He granted Nantam mercy and, in doing so, proved to the world that he was strong enough to move past the damage.

But the final twist was even though everything was already set, the arrangements, the permissions, the plan, Nantam remained in detention. The only thing left was for someone to come and bail him out. When Evans tried to step in to help, Nantam, proud and stubborn, refused. He wouldn’t accept assistance from Evans, even though it was the only way out. His arrogance kept him trapped, proving that even a moment of genuine mercy from Zayn couldn’t save Nantam from himself.

The rest of that day, I didn’t call. I had to adhere to the agreement, no matter how much it hurt. Instead, I sent a simple text, asking if he was home safely.

Zayn’s reply came quickly: Yes, I am. And Kai is leaving in the morning, back to where he came from. He said he’s done with everything he came for.

I texted him back: Alright, baby. We talk for a while before I give him my best. I love you.

Then we exchanged goodnight messages, each ending with a heart emoji.

The next morning, I couldn’t resist. I called to check on him, to hear his voice, to make sure he was okay.

He didn’t pick up.

Instead, I got a text: Busy. I’ll text you later.

I tried to tell myself he was just protecting the boundaries I had set, honoring the separation. But as the afternoon wore on, and my calls went straight to voicemail, panic began to replace reason. Was he avoiding me?

All day, the phone remained silent.

It was late, almost midnight. I couldn’t stand the uncertainty anymore. I needed to hear his voice, or I would go insane. I called again, fully expecting to hear the dial tone, when suddenly—

"Hello," Zayn answered. His voice was flat, casual, with absolutely none of the sweet words we usually exchanged. No "babe," no "my love." Just a detached greeting.

"Zayn, finally!" I felt a wave of frustrated relief wash over me. "I’ve been calling you all day. Why aren’t you picking up? Is everything—"

Before I could finish the sentence, a second voice—sharp, unmistakable, and female—cut through the background noise.

"Just tell him to stop calling you already!"

My blood turned to ice. It was Meera’s voice. Before I could even breathe, let alone ask what the hell was going on, the line went dead.