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I was in the gym, pummelling my fists into the boxing bag with no end in sight. My motions were much less awkward as I bounced on my feet. My fists would strike rapidly, breathing in short bursts of hot air. I had been coming down here every morning, using it to let out some of the seemingly neverending anger I held onto. It's not like I had become a miraculous boxer, but I was slowly finding the confidence within myself. It was empowering to feel in control of my limbs and exhausting the muscles in my body instead of sitting on my bed all day like I had been forced to.

Feeling a presence hovering behind me, my body immediately sensing an audience, my spine straightened. I turned, straining to control my bewilderment when I realized Zayn was standing patiently behind me. He was dressed in workout clothing, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his face completely relaxed. He was trying to appear approachable instead of intimidating, his posture casual.

I hadn't seen much of Zayn, sometimes bumping into him in the dining room, but our conversations were always short, usually only exchanging pleasantries. I didn't know why he was still so blunt, but I tried not to let it bother me, knowing I would fall down a rabbit hole of uncertainty.

Lowering my hands, I put a cordial smile on my face, waiting for him to speak.

"Remember to guard your face, but be ready to block your stomach." He instructed, getting straight to the point. His tone was laid-back, and I conceded he likely didn't know any other way to break the ice.

I blinked, momentarily startled, before quickly nodding, "Thanks, Zayn, I'll remember that. I feel more like a baby deer than a boxer."

Zayn chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "Nah, you're fine. Use your height to your advantage. The men you'll go up against will aim more for your face as it's an easier swing."

"You do any cosmetic practice? I don't know if Harry would appreciate it if I had a crooked nose," I joked, appreciating Zayn's demeanor.

Mentioning Harry's name was tactful on my part, wanting to gauge his reaction.

His warm smile deepened, lighting up his honey-colored eyes, "Please, at this point, Harry's a frequent flyer. I'll give you a two-for-one deal."

My laugh was genuine, and I was pleased with his response. My chin jutted at the treadmills, "Are you going to get some sprints in?"

"Yeah, it helps to relieve some of the tension from work," His jaw clenched slightly as he thought about it, and I felt empathetic towards him.

"Well, I'm sure you're doing a great job. I mean, you kept me alive." I gestured to myself to further my point.

"Thanks, El. I'm glad to see you doing better. I'll leave you to it. Remember what I told you!" His voice was oddly enthusiastic, but I shrugged it off, knowing it was probably stress from his job.

He waved over his shoulder as he headed to the treadmills, diving straight into his warm-up. That was it for the interaction, and I observed him dump his bag on the floor, situating himself on the treadmill.

It was odd, but I figured maybe he was trying to ease any tension and was unsure how I would react. I mean, Harry did give him a beating over me, so I could understand why he was hesitant. I certainly didn't blame him for it. I just hoped it was Zayn's way of conveying it was all good, and now we could move past it. I had let it be, not wanting to force a friendship between us if he held resentment, but I was glad to see he was trying.

Turning back to the punching bag, I began hitting it again. I kept Zayn's advice in mind, keeping my face guarded as I continued. My jaw was clenched, my teeth grinding against each other as my eyes zeroed in on the bag. The time spent making a victim out of it permitted my thoughts to alleviate, dissipating like a cloud of smoke.

          

I lasted another fifteen minutes before the hunger pangs in my stomach got too much, distracting me from my workout. I sat on the floor momentarily, catching my breath and wiping my forehead with the small towel. I took a moment to observe the people in the gym, most of them keeping to themselves.

Standing up with a small groan, I collected my stuff, scooping it into my arms. Exiting the gym, I waved at Zayn, letting him know I was leaving. He returned the gesture with a contagious smile, the expression highlighting his flushed cheeks from running.

I didn't bother changing before going to the dining room, not wanting to walk to my room, then back again.

I had asked Lola to meet me to help find a dress for the banquet, and I'd be lying if I wasn't a little keen on gossiping about how her night at the Blue Diamond went with Louis.

Although I still had a week to prepare, I wanted to cover my bases to ensure I didn't forget anything. I spent a long time constantly reviewing the blueprints, guaranteeing they were burnt into my memory.

Harry had departed early this morning to complete a supply trade, promising this one wouldn't be as long. Even though it had only been a few hours, I missed his brooding figure by my side.

Eating quickly because I was alone, I rushed back to the room to shower, applying some light makeup. I slipped into another sundress, an effortless outfit I didn't have to think about. I made sure to snatch Harry's black credit card that he had left on his dresser for me, with a threat this morning that I better use it.

I rushed through the tunnels to meet Lola, conscious I was running late and didn't want to keep her waiting. Roaming through the tunnels was now a piece of cake, no longer daunted by the expanse of the Underground System.

When I emerged through the archway into the market hall, Lola rushed up to me. She embraced me in a hug, her arms winding around my neck.

I beamed brightly, her affectionate nature always infectious as I hugged her back, "Hey Lola, I'm so glad you're here to help me."

"Always, El. So what are we shopping for today?"

We began leisurely wandering through the market hall. Because we were surrounded by people, I had to conceal my words slightly. The last thing we needed was for somebody to become completely aware of who my Father was and who he was associated with. I didn't want them to panic or feel their lives were jeopardized because of my family. I understood it won't be a secret one day, but I'd prefer that to be after they were safe.

Looking around nervously, I deemed there was no one else listening, "I can't divulge too much, at least not until after. But I need something elegant, preferably a dress-" I paused, grinning as an explanation came to me that Lola would definitely understand.

"Think, what is the perfect dress to play mind games against your Father so you can undermine him?"

Lola's doe eyes widened even further as she connected the dots. She halted in her steps, seizing my biceps with both hands. The people around us continued to pass us without a second glance, the bustling noise of the market hall obscuring our conversation.

"You're confronting your Father?" Her whisper was anxious but remained hushed, shielding them from anyone listening.

I wasn't sure if she was beginning to figure out who my Father was or if Louis had informed her in confidence. Based on her reaction, I leaned toward the former, confusion still laced in her tone.

My words were rushed, fumbling for the right thing to say to quash her concern, "I'm sorry, Lola, I want to tell you everything. It's not because I don't want to."

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