Zayn’s POV
I sat under the old oak tree behind the school, the only spot untouched by noise and chaos. The sound of laughter and footsteps faded here, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. This corner had become my refuge — the one place where the world stopped demanding things from me. My laptop balanced on my knees, its screen glowing faintly in the golden light of the late afternoon. I was running against a deadline again, but that wasn’t new. Deadlines had become a quiet rhythm in my life, one I both hated and craved.
My books were getting more attention lately — far more than I’d ever imagined. My inbox was filled with emails from publishers, journalists, and people wanting interviews, asking about my “creative process” and “inspiration.” As if I could ev
