Caitlyn's pov.
Zayn tugged on his shirt, as if it was choking him. His eyes darted to every corner of the living room before they landed on me again. The grin on my face did not falter, I was enjoying his uneasiness.
“You want me to cook? That's preposterous and unheard of. I am Zayn Morrison, I don't cook.” He said that in utter disgust, his tone heavy with pride.
I moved closer, squinting and refusing to back down. “And I am Zayn Morrison's wife. You either do this, or you leave me alone. I don't mind living like strangers until our deal is over.”
He huffed, brushing the tip of his nose with his finger. He looked like he was having a hard time deciding, and it was something I never expected because he had always been quick to take his decisions and stand on them. Seeing him strugg
