“Mother? What—”
Her sobs poured through the speaker before she could even finish a sentence, and Lena felt the temperature in the room shift violently.
“Zayn,” his mother cried, frantic, broken. “I am not sure where you are at the moment but you need to come home— your father… he had an accident. A car accident. They don’t know— they don’t know if—” Her voice cracked, dissolving into a sob.
Zayn went still. Absolutely still.
As if the ground beneath him had vanished.
“I’m coming,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He ended the call with shaking hands, then moved quickly — almost too quickly — grabbing few essentials like his laptop, headsets, tablet and after, going to the bedroom and grabbing few other items into a bag with jerky, uneven motions.
Lena stood frozen
