Numbing her Pain ⇝ jerrie a.u (slow updates)

The biting London air kissed Perrie Edwards' face as she navigated the snow-dusted streets, a rare scoop of butternut ice cream bravely defying the chill in her hand. Below zero, yet she barely felt it, lost in the familiar scent of winter. Her small 5'4" frame weaved through towering figures, a faint irritation sparking within her at her perceived smallness. She craved to be great, to be seen, but height, unlike music, offered no competitive edge.

Soon, the crowds thinned as she turned onto her street, the apartment building blending into the dull, colorless houses. Kicking off her combat boots inside, she entered the small space she shared with Zayn. He’d be back from work soon, but she felt no rush, only a familiar sense of quiet dread. He was a good man, kind even, but she knew, deep down, she didn’t love him that way. It was a truth she lived against, for her mother’s sake, for the sake of an illusion.

She pulled a brand new, periwinkle journal from her carrier, its leather cover a promise. Four books, four albums, a silent testament to her dream. She was a singer, a performer, not this—not someone writing songs for others, trapped in a tiny apartment, counting bills, with a man she didn't love. She picked up her guitar, fingers tracing familiar chords, losing herself in melody until the clock ticked five, and she’d return to the self she presented to the world.

Then the bell chimed.

“Pez, I brought some Indian!” Zayn’s familiar Yorkshire accent carried through the wood.