A/n's pov:
The hall was still, so still it was if it had even stopped breathing. She lay there-still, pale, gone. The world around her blurred. He did not see the crowd, he did not see the looks of pity. He only saw her. His knees fell to the ground beside her with a thud louder than any prayer. He felt his hands tremble as they reached for her cold face, fingers brushing skin that had held warmth as it had laughed, that had belonged to him in all his helpless dreams.
And then it came the sound. Not a man's cry, not the muffled restraint of the man holding on to his pride, but the guttural wail of a boy taken too soon. His chest racked as sobs erupted from him uncontrolled, messy, humiliating. His tears were falling on her skin, but she did not stir, she did not smile, she did not tell him to stop ruining her dress. She was gone. She had taken everything with her.
"How c-could you!". The shivering and breaking voice came from his mouth.
"How could you.... how could you!". The only words he can manage to speak, repeat and the only prayers left his mouth.
"S-sylus, me? Sylus! you left me how could you!". Nobody came near him to hold him , the only thing he can hold is or held by is her body her cold body which never belongs to him just laying there.
The one assistant hesitate and asked "sir we should proceed with the body". His voice was not below mutters but zayn's heard him.
"She is my y/n, don't dare to call her body don't take away her name she is y/n! she is my y/n!". He grab his collar his voice was echoing in the hallway.
Two bodies were there in the room, but the only difference was that one was laying pale with no heart beat and the other was screaming, breathing and crying of other.
There was no proud cardiologist and a surgeon in the room anymore only a losser lover who is crying for his one sided failed love and her dead body.
The name kept piercing through him like glass with every resurrection of memory. She had never whispered it. She made a proclamation. Loud enough that he could hear it. Loud enough that it crushed the frail hope he'd built day by day, smile by smile...the time she blushed, the time she had asked for roses, the many times she had talked of the winters and snow and the future that he thought she wanted with him.
It was all a lie. a lie.
Not because she wanted to deceive him, but because he had deceived himself.
And now, kneeling there with her hand on his tear-stained cheek, he knew the truth that only broke him in ways that nothing else could.
She was never his.
Her light had always belonged to Sylus. Every glimmer in her eyes, every flash in her grin, every breath she struggled to stay alive for it was all for him. Even her last moment, she saved her love for the boy who refused to take her with him.
She had never said Zayn's name. Not once.
And Zayn had given her all. His prayers, his sleepless nights, his shaky hope. His soul. His heart.
But it was nothing. It meant nothing.
Because love is cruel.
Love doesn't reward effort, loyalty or sacrifice. Love is blind, merciless, irrational. She was blind for Sylus, Sylus was blind for himself…and Zayn poor, miserable Zayn was blind for her. Three hearts knotted up in threads of commitment but only one was chosen. And it wasn't him.
It never was.
Sobs came pouring out of him and the sound of pure sorrow was so open and raw that it made the nurses look away. He yelled her name until his voice cracked.
Holding her dead body against his chest, rocked back and forth like a lost child, trying to understand why his mother wouldn't wake up. Tears were soaking her dress, darkening an already red fabric, as if even her dress was forced to hold his sad.
Her eyes remained closed. Her lips remained straight and did not express a smile that he had pleaded for.
In the space between one sob and the next, he understood this was goodbye.
He would never hear her laughter. He would never witness her face turn red and show her embarrassment. He would never see her eyes light up when she told him about something little that she liked.
All of those bits and pieces of her the brightest, most tender pieces were for Sylus. And they went with her into death, and Zayn was left with bits and pieces, scraps, shadows.
She had taken the wind out of his sails.
A little boy, in a man's body, crying like his world had been stolen from him - it had. She was his world.
And now she was gone.
His sobs diminished, but the pain was still there. The sheer exhaustion was starting to creep in. His hands were shaking as he caressed her hair one last time, calling her name between choking sobs. He pressed his forehead against hers, cold to cold, as if the closeness might breathe her back into him.
But nothing came.
The screens stayed quiet. The silence extended.
And still, he wept.
Because even in death, even in cruelty, even in betrayal he loved her. He would always love her.
But her last smile, her last breath, her last words each and every one belonged to Sylus.
Not him.
Never him.
To be continued....