All Chapters of The Chemistry Clause : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Zoe’s POVIt was the 7th take.“Cut!!!” The director didn’t raise his voice, but the frustration in it was loud.“What the fuck is wrong with you? Will you pull yourself together?” Zain was the one who raised his voice at me.I was literally murdering my role. Tears swelled in my eyes and my throat constricted. I was failing. I never failed, but that didn’t mean I didn’t recognize the failure approaching me.My eyes met Eloise’s as M.J. whispered something into her ear. She spoke at last. “We’ll have to cancel today’s shoot. I’m sorry to waste everyone’s hard work today. Lunch at Feast and Chill? Bills on me,” Dr. Eloise said lightly, and everyone’s expression got a bit lighter.M.J.’s eyes met mine. He said nothing, but I got the message. *Zoe. Van.*“What happened?”That was all it took for me to burst into tears and spill everything to him—my mom’s words, my fear of failure, everything.“Were you always a good doctor?” M.J. asked me. I thought the question to be odd. Was he going t

Arman’s POV I’ve had sleepless nights for days now. I walked around with bloodshot eyes during the day, and sleep eluded me at night. Someone was trying to ruin me. That was my only conclusion. I tried to think back and remember the other words Bridget had said during that phone call, but everything else seemed blurry except those words: “I won’t let you destroy everything we have worked for.” My mind kept trying to go back to the memory of the phone call, but those words were all I could remember. I had tried asking Bridget, but the conversation went exactly like I had predicted it would. “Umm, Bridge?” I had called for her. “Yes, Zain.” She teased me with the character’s name these days. Fans were loving the name. Earlier last week, she had posted a picture on my I*******m and captioned it “Arman or Zain?” There was a tie. People loved both. My social media manager had proposed the idea of creating an I*******m page for Zain Blade. I really didn’t care. “Is everything alright?

Zoe’s POV.My fingers itched as I touched the phone. It had been months and my mom was unable to reach me. I wondered if she missed me. Okay, that was doing too much, but I still could not stop myself from hoping she was worried.The sound of my ancient iPhone coming on earned a breath through my lips. I had already planned it out. I’d turn on the phone, call my mom, tell her the words I had rehearsed, and hang up. I would not listen to her opinion; I'd just give her words to think about and get off the phone. Then I’ll call my brother.But I should have known nothing ever went the way I wanted it to, because my phone rang immediately after it came on. It was Matthew. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.“Hey, Matt,” I breathed.“Really? Really, Zoe? I didn’t know you could be so selfish. How could you? After everything our parents have done for you? You ruined their hard work, Zoe. Mom had big plans for you. Then you disappear and show up on TV? Are you stupid?” Matthew lashed out. Eac

Zoe’s POV I did not speak on the ride back. The silence in the car was so heavy you could touch it. The black car sliced through the city like a whisper; I might have complimented the vehicle if I didn't want to avoid saying a single word to its owner. I had no idea what the brand or design was, but it wasn't loud and roaring like the cars men seem to like these days. The feature I appreciated most, however, was the tinted windows. They shielded me from the uproar outside: fans screaming, paparazzi lunging, and lights flashing. Arman had offered me a ride, and my manager, M.J., had nodded like he’d just won the lottery. I hadn't objected then, but now I wished I had. Arman leaned against the leather seat, trying to clear his head while keeping his eyes on the road and the kiss off his mind. His expression was controlled—that boyish, signature grin that charmed headlines, directors, and fans, but didn't seem to budge me. He controlled the wheel with one hand, a look girls usually h

M.J.’s POVShe was so quick to cry. Zoe. It was a good thing, though. Everyone needed an outlet for their pain; if crying was hers… so be it.Some people had weirder ways to comfort themselves. Some preferred to share the pain or inflict it on others. I wasn’t judging, but the saying that misery loved company was absolutely true.“I’m sorry your brother did not come, Merida.” I tried to comfort her. I loved it when she smiled through her tears at the name I called her.“I don’t feel so brave right now.” She sniffed into the handkerchief I had given her before adding, “I’m so sorry.” Another wave of tears was incoming. “I’d wash this before giving it back.”I gave her a small smile. “You don’t have to do that,” I informed her. She really did not have to. Having that handkerchief back, even after she had used it, would be… a pleasure.“And then, my mom sent me a text,” she continued. I gave her my ears in rapt attention even as my eyes stayed on the road. “I thought she wanted to congr