The words crashed into Zayn’s mind with the force of a detonation, scattering every assumption, every certainty, every carefully built accusation he had carried for weeks, and for a long moment he simply stood there, staring at Lana as if she had spoken in another language, because the idea was too absurd, too catastrophic to be true.
He took the wrong person.
The realization echoed again and again, growing louder with every heartbeat, until his temples throbbed and his chest felt too tight to breathe properly, and he dragged a hand through his hair before squeezing his eyes shut, forcing himself to inhale slowly, deeply, as if oxygen alone could reorganize the chaos tearing through his thoughts.
How the hell did this happen?
A mistake like this was not something he made, not something
