Pretend It's Ok

Melinda and Gharram stayed up until 11:30 just...being themselves. All in all fun and reassuring in the up-most happiest way. Melinda knew that when she would be going back to her room in the Hilton that Zayn would be another story. If Zayn was home, that is.

Melinda walked in placing her light hooded jacket on a hanger near the door. Her wide-grinned smile faded as soon as her eyes met the sight before her. Clothes were thrown in every direction, spilled food on the marble (expensive) tables, opened cans of pop left without coasters (she never used them, but in a fancy place such as The Hilton, she wanted to be as clean as humanly possible) and empty boxes of take-out were placed everywhere.

Melinda wanted to walk in on Zayn waiting for her. Alas, emptiness or that's what she suspected at least. She walked around the enormous suite to be sure that it was empty. Walking towards the kitchen, nothing but the skins of fruits and containers of different Asian food were sprawled everywhere. Creaking open the bathroom door, another mess of disheveled towels yet no one inside. Melinda picked up her pace a little as she got to "their" room. Her heart raced for some odd reason as she turned the knob.

What was she expecting? What did she want to expect? Why were her palms sweating? Apart of her was filled with excitement at thought of a night alone with just her and...

Herself.

Her heart sunk into the depths of her stomach. Why did she feel disappointment knowing that this was in Zayn's character?

Melinda stood there staring at the clean room. The bedroom was the only place untouched. It broke Melinda. Why? Well, because the master bedroom was the sanctuary for two loved ones to interact passionately. No mess meant Zayn hadn't walked into the room at all. This indicated to Melinda that Zayn wouldn't enter it either.

The back of her eyes stung violently. Her chest pounded against her chest and her breathing became heavy. She huffed through her nostrils and tried calming herself down. Melinda's tear ducts were dangerously flooded with her agony. She hadn't felt the tears commence at all. The feeling of anger increased within her distracting her attention from her eyes. She exhaled closing her them. No tear fell from her eyes. Nothing. Yet...

Opening them, she felt a pang of hurt. She shook it off as quick as it had come out.

She sniffled back more tears as she tied her loose hair up in a messy bun. Rolling up her sleeves she worked her way - picking up clothes and such off the ground - into the sitting area. Melinda scrubbed the tops of tables, picked the litter off the floor, scrubbed the tiled floor of the kitchen, she gathered her husband's clothes together and placed all the hotel laundry in the correct bin. Melinda noticed that an ashtray was laid out on the table of the balcony. A pile of cigarette buds sat in the glass tray. She shook her head slowly throwing the ashes away.

Melinda groaned in exhaustion with sweat dripping down the side of her face when she had finished making the suite spotless. She wiped her face of any dirt and makeup. She winced at the pain in her chest letting it fade away slowly on its own and opened the door to the bedroom. Melinda stood standing staring at how clean it had been.

It bothered her. The cleanliness of the room bothered her to a very high degree. She hated to stare at the only clean untouched room in the whole entire suite. Why didn't he step into it? She felt worthless again. Unwanted. Unappreciative of what he does. Her chest built up in anger. A switch in Melinda flipped.

She had gone berserk.

Picking up the clean clothes in the luggage that had been neatly put away, she threw them all over the room. She made sure everything was scattered. Melinda grabbed the bag of chips sitting on the bedside table and began eating handfuls of it dropping crumbs on every inch of the tan carpet she could. She danced around letting more crumbs fall onto the floor. Melinda thought it would be suitable to turn on music and so she did. Melinda was blaring out music continuing to dance.

But of course, Melinda being Melinda, she started getting annoyed of the mess. She began to clean each part of the mess she created. Neatly, she folded the clothes back into the proper spot it had been in.

Melinda's eyes darted towards a silver wrapping in the pocket of Zayn's jeans - her favorite pair on him. She walked closer to examine it at a more close distance. Melinda's heart rate accelerated to higher speeds that could only be found in a sports car. She let the bag of chips fall freely from the tips of her fingers. Bending down slowly, Melinda held the square aluminum-like package between her fingers twirling it around to make sure what she was looking at was what she thought was in her grasp.

Her other hand shook slightly as it reached her face. Melinda covered her mouth struck in awe. Her heart felt heavier, her chest was moving up and down rapidly, her vision had gotten cloudier and tears hung from her lower lashes. Melinda dropped to her knees with the condom in her hand.

A condom.

What was the need of it? Why did he have one? What was the purpose?

Married couples use condoms, but Zayn and Melinda didn't need to. Melinda had been on birth control since before their marriage was finalized. What was this used for? Melinda shook her head in disbelief holding it in her hand coming up with conclusions as to what he would use it for. Nothing she could conclude made sense, but it didn't matter. She wanted to believe something. Something other than...

No. Zayn couldn't ...wouldn't cheat on Melinda. He loved her too much. He craved her too much to be with anyone else.

Melinda's eyes roamed around the room mindlessly. She hadn't been looking for anything certain. She was...clueless. Melinda picked herself up from the floor and crawled onto the bed removing the dark brown blanket. Silence was all around her as she turned the music off from the remote. Silence was what she wanted. The rain outside her window pattered against the glass. The rumbling of thunder shook her a bit.

In the midst of Melinda's dilemma, the manly musky scent of Zayn filled her nose. Was Zayn home? Melinda looked around to find that the source wasn't him. She seen a black thick sweater hanging loosely over the bed. She forgot to put it back. Melinda grabbed it violently in her hands feeling the cotton fabric and against the tips of her fingers. His cologne seeped into her nose causing her to close her eyes and take in the aroma. Melinda held the sweater close to her crying silently to herself. Her head lowered as she cried into his sweater.

Melinda hit the ultimate low of the night. She had the right to cry after all. How much more could she take? Most would say for her to leave, but that's just pure foolishness.

Marriage is struggle. Life is struggle.

Melinda slid her arms into the warm fabric of Zayn's sweater. She covered her head with the hood falling back onto the comfortable bed huddled into herself and crying quietly. She wept into the sleeves of the hoodie.

"Why are you doing this to me?", she pleaded towards the sweater she was now drowned in. "What am I doing for you to do this to me?", Melinda began to sob. She squeezed her eyes shut crushing the square plastic in her hands, "How could you, Zayn?" She heaved her eyes slowly closing.

Melinda cried for a little longer and soon fell asleep to the soothing sound of rain, thunder and her lonesome. As much as she loathed Zayn at the moment, she couldn't help but grasp tightly and desperately onto her husband's sweater. Her sleep that night felt a little more comfortable than usual. In her own Melinda way.

Notes