Selena’s POVMy apartment felt... tainted. Like Zayn had left a gross, invisible film over everything. His cologne, that sweet, metal-y smell I used to think was okay, now made my stomach do this very weird flip. It was everywhere – the couch, the curtains, even the air itself, like he'd left a ghost behind. I shivered, pulling my robe tighter, but it didn't help. The cold feeling was inside me, deep down.My brain kept replaying the scene, like a broken movie reel, each moment sharp and painful. I'd walked in, expecting my apartment to be my safe place, my quiet zone. But he was there, sitting on my couch like he owned the place. Too relaxed, too smug, that smile just... plain annoying."Selena," he'd said, his voice dropping low, all smooth and husky, making my skin crawl."Don't you think this whole 'playing hard to get thing has gone on long enough? I miss you, you know."Before I could even open my mouth, he was on me, his hands grabbing my face, his touch rough, like he owned
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