RUN AWAY || H.S

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟒

Kiara's POV.

I stood there, processing Alana's words as they hung in the air. Her voice, usually so light and playful, had turned serious and pained. "I mean... umm... don't tell anyone in India that I am in contact with you or anything. Don't tell anyone that I am in America. Don't even mention my name to people from India. And if they do, just pretend that you lost contact with me after I moved. Just don't tell anyone about me."

I was beyond confused at this point. Why would she want to hide her whereabouts so completely? Wouldn't her family be worried sick?

In my nervousness—and with a hint of my usual offbeat humor—I blurted out, half-joking, "Alana, what's going on? Did you kill someone in India?"

Her eyes widened, and then she covered her face with her hand in disbelief. "What? No, God, no. I did not do such a thing. Oh my God, Ki!" she chided, clearly frustrated by my attempt at humor in the midst of her seriousness.

I pressed, my voice laced with genuine concern, "What?"

"Kiara, all I can say right now is that I ran away. Everything was a mess back home, so I ran away. I don't want people to know where I am, okay? Can you please not tell anyone about this? Not even your boyfriend." She practically begged, her tone cracking as if the burden of her past was too heavy to bear.

Alana had never asked me for anything before—it was always me asking her for help. This was different. I couldn't possibly say no. "Okay, Alana. I won't tell anyone anything," I promised, my voice gentle but resolute.

"Not even Niall?" she asked softly, searching my eyes for assurance.

"I don't keep secrets from Niall, Al—but this isn't my secret, so I won't mention it to him either. And I'm not in contact with many people back in India," I explained, hoping to ease her fears.

"Thank you so much, Kiara. I love you," she whispered, her eyes glistening with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

"I love you too, girl. But why did you run away?" I asked, my tone a blend of care and curiosity.

Alana hesitated, her voice trembling as she replied, "I ca-c-can't tell you about that, Ki. I just want to forget it all. Please don't ask me about it. Please?" I could see she was on the verge of tears—the Alana I knew had never been one to cry so openly. So much had changed in these last few years.

"Okay. I won't ask. But remember, you can talk to me—anytime," I assured her softly.

"I know. But I don't want to talk about it now. I'm here to start fresh," she said, her tone resolute yet fragile.

"Alright then, let's start fresh. Now go get changed—the boys will be here any minute," I added, trying to inject a note of normalcy into the moment.

"Okay," she murmured, and with that, she slipped into the bathroom.

I stood there for a moment longer, still reeling from the seriousness of her revelation. I hoped deep down that she would find the peace she desperately sought.

Harry's POV.

Later that evening, Niall and I returned to the apartment carrying a bounty of food—Chinese, Italian, and a dozen bottles of beer that clinked together like a promise of a carefree night. I had already saved Alana's new phone number in my phone—a small detail that now felt oddly significant.

As we stepped into the living room, Kiara emerged from Alana's room with a burst of energy. "You guys are back! God, I'm starving. Alana's just freshening up; she'll be out any minute," she announced with a bright smile that helped lift the heavy air.