The sound of your heels clicked softly against the floor as you stepped out of the bedroom, each step deliberate. The living room lights were dim, casting a faint glow on the curves of your body wrapped tightly in a black nun costume.

Zayn had just dropped himself onto the sofa out of exhaustion, his tie now loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his hair slightly tousled after a long day at the hospital. But the moment his eyes caught your silhouette, he sat up straight.

His eyes traveled down your body from head to toe. His jaw tightened. That signature cold gaze of his suddenly shifted. There was something dark and hungry in them, like a man who just realized that “heaven” isn’t always in the sky.

You then mentioned that Zayn came home early today. Your voice was soft, but every word chipped away at his self-control.

He swallowed hard. "And you’re dressed like that… for me?"

You smiled, stepped closer, and slowly sat down on his lap, your hand playing with the collar of his suit.

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. But he failed. His large hand landed on your waist, gripping gently yet firmly.

"Halloween is supposed to be about scaring people," he whispered close to your ear, his voice low and husky, "But now… I’m the one who’s scared."

“What are you afraid of?” you asked softly, a sly smile playing on your lips.

"Afraid of losing control."