CHAPTER 269: CHAPTER 269: WHEN PAST AND PRESENT EXPLODE

~Zayn’s POV~

I drove back to my restaurant, the air conditioning doing little to cool the frantic energy thrumming under my skin. Nantam’s plan was risky, but it was the only way to get the truth about the baby before Evric’s deadline. I still couldn’t believe I’d left Nantam stranded, but the payback was necessary, and I knew Evans wouldn’t leave him on the road for long.

My phone rang. It was Evric.

"Nuala just called me," Evric said, his voice clipped and businesslike. "She said she’s coming to your restaurant. She missed you; it’s been a while since she saw you."

"Okay," I managed, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. I desperately wanted to talk to him about Meera and the baby, but I knew I couldn’t over the phone.

"She invited me, and I told her I’d join her soon after she arrives," Evric continued. He lowered his voice slightly. "When I get there, act normal. Nuala can’t know something is not right between us."

I opened my mouth to say, Babe, I have something huge to tell you about Meera, but before I could utter a single word, he disconnected.

The harsh, final click of the dial tone stung. I was still hurt by the dismissive way Evric had hung up when the restaurant door opened.

It was Nuala. She quickly spotted me and ran forward, pulling me into a fierce hug. "Oh, my sweet brother! I missed you so much! It’s been too long!"

I squeezed her back, trying to absorb her easy affection. "I missed you too, Nuala."

I led her to a quiet booth, and not long after she placed her order and settled in, Evric arrived. It was getting toward evening now.

Evric walked straight to our table, his posture stiff. "Hi, Nuala. Hi, babe," he greeted me, trying to maintain the normal way we always greeted each other, a brief, professional dip of the head, masking the turmoil beneath.

I asked him what he wanted to eat, just for show. Evric smiled tightly. "I’m fine, my love. Just had a late lunch."

Nuala was just leaning forward, about to teasingly question Evric about why he wasn’t eating, when the entrance door burst open.

I didn’t see Meera right away. But when I raised my head, I spotted her. She was scanning the room with a manic intensity. Before I could even register her intention, she snatched a drink—a dark, sticky soda—off a tray a staff member was carrying to another customer.

She ran straight toward our booth.

Before she could say a word, she raised her hand to pour the drink directly over Evric’s head.

Instinct took over. I lunged across the small table, propelling myself forward. Instead of the drink splashing Evric, the cold, sticky liquid poured entirely over my body.

The scene was so fast that Nuala was confused, sputtering at the sudden chaos. Meera, seeing her attempt failed and realizing I was protecting him, screamed, not at me, but at Evric.

"Can you leave him alone?! Can you stop forcing him to be gay?!"

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of Nuala pushing her chair back. She stood up, grabbed the glass of water and the untouched, sparkling drink that had just been set in front of her. She didn’t hesitate. She threw the entire contents—water and soda—back at Meera.

Meera shrieked, covered in liquid. Nuala, not caring who she was or what she had done, stood over the table, her hands on her hips, fire in her eyes.

"Who the hell are you to attack my brothers?!" Nuala roared.

Meera didn’t even look at Nuala. Her eyes, wide and wild with pain and anger, were fixed solely on me, dripping soda and rage. "Wonderful! So you were quick to protect him and not me?" she screamed, shaking her head. "You’d leap to protect a man like you, but not me!"

I looked at Evric. He was staring at me, his face unreadable—a mask of profound, aching disappointment and surprise. My heart was wrenching in my chest. Why do I have to face all this?

The entire restaurant had gone silent. Everyone was staring, but thankfully, my staff quickly moved, forming a perimeter to shield the scene.

"I’m talking to you, Zayn! Won’t you give me a reply?" Meera shouted, desperate for validation.

I turned to her, my voice cracking with desperation. "Meera, please, can you just stop?" I was begging her, sacrificing my pride just to prevent a total disaster.

Nuala turned to Evric, her eyes huge, silently demanding an explanation of who this lunatic was. Evric didn’t answer Nuala. He simply stood up and reached for my hand.

"Come on," he said softly, ready to pull me toward the back office maybe to change my shirt.

Meera saw the connection, the simple, intimate gesture of Evric holding my hand, and it sent her over the edge. "Don’t touch him!" she shrieked.

I tried to turn back, to reason with her one last time, to calm her down or convince her to go home. Before I could utter a single syllable, a searing pain exploded across my face. She had delivered a hard, hot slap.

"How can you be proud to sleep with a man," she spat, venom in her voice, "and let a man hold your hand like that?!"

Before I could even process the burning shock on my cheek, the same slap was returned to Meera—not once, but twice, delivered with lightning speed and surprising force by Nuala.

"They won’t slap you back," Nuala said, her voice low and dangerous, standing toe-to-toe with Meera. "But I’m a woman like you, and I will make you learn the hard way. If you’re going to be rude, I’ll show you I was born spoiled and rude."

Nuala raised her hand for a third slap, and Evric finally moved. "Stop, Nua!" he shouted, stepping between them.

Evric quickly grabbed Nuala’s bag, took my hand, and pulled Nuala and me out of the restaurant through the back exit.

As we were ushered out, Meera’s frantic voice echoed behind us, a desperate, fading cry: "Zayn!"