- Elizabeth -
The elevator hummed ominously as it ascended; with each passing floor, the tension coiling in my stomach intensified. I could feel Zayn's grip tightening around my hand, his presence a flickering flame in the engulfing darkness of my nerves. We were heading to a battlefield, and I was dressed for war—not in armor, but in a simple yet elegant dress that hugged my curves just right. I wanted to project confidence and appear refined in front of Zayn's father, a man I knew disapproved of our relationship as if it were a plague.
Each flicker of the floor numbers made my heart race—a rollercoaster high on anticipation and fear. Zayn's eyes were glued to the panel, his jaw clenched, the way it always did when he was bracing for something monumental. I took a deep breath, trying t
