~Zayn's POV~
I drove home on autopilot, the echo of Meera's ultimatum, choose between your son and him, throbbing in time with the sting on my cheek. I pulled into the driveway, exhausted and still sticky, the realization that Saturday was the last day for both Evric and Meera settling like a stone in my gut.
When I opened my house door, I wasn't surprised. Meera hadn't prepared dinner; the kitchen was dark. She was curled up on the couch, facing the back of the cushions, looking small and defeated. She lifted her head when I entered.
"Hi, Zayn," she murmured, her greeting barely audible.
I knew she would be angry, resentful, and stubborn, so I had already brought dinner along from my restaurant, two containers of her favorite pasta.
I went inside, changed out of my clothes, and came back to the living room. I quietly set up the dining table, laying out plates and the steaming food.
"Meera," I called gently. "Come and eat. I brought the pasta you like."
