RUN AWAY || H.S

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟕

Harry's POV.

Curiosity pushed me further. "What do your parents do? What did they say when you left? They must have been pretty upset."

A hush fell over the table. Alana's eyes darkened momentarily as a heavy silence settled in the room. Then, after a long pause, she said softly, "Umm... it doesn't really matter. They're dead."

The entire table went quiet. The weight of her words settled between us like an unwelcome fog—suddenly, laughter and light banter evaporated, leaving only raw vulnerability.

Kiara's eyes widened in shock. "What? When did this happen? And why didn't you tell me this before?" she exclaimed, her tone a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

Alana stared at Kiara for a long moment, as if trying to decide how much to reveal. Finally, she spoke in a firm, even voice, "I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was important. It doesn't matter—I told you before, Ki, I'm here to have a fresh start. I can't do that if I keep talking about my past in India. And my past... well, it includes my parents."

The look on her face made it clear: this was a subject closed for discussion. Even Niall, sensing the tension, shifted the conversation with his usual irreverence.

"This is really delicious, Alana. I think you should cook every day... You can even try new dishes, and I'll help you," Niall said, flashing a grin as he reached for another bite.

"Help me? How? Do you cook?" Alana asked softly, relief evident in her tone as the topic shifted.

"Oh no, no, darling—I don't cook. I meant I'll be your taste tester, your personal judge. You cook, I eat," Niall replied quickly, drawing a laugh from Alana.

Dinner resumed amid lighter conversation, though I couldn't shake the image of Alana's nonchalance when discussing her lost past. I found myself wondering—how could someone so seemingly unfazed hide such pain? Kiara, too, had been quieter than usual since the revelation.

After dinner, Alana began gathering the dishes. Niall and Kiara continued their chatter about their day, but I felt compelled to help. "Umm, guys, I'll go help Alana with the dishes," I announced, rising from my seat.

"Hey, let me help you."

""Oh, Harry, it's okay. You can rest—you must be tired," Alana protested softly.

"Not that tired, babe," I insisted with a half-smile.

"Okay. I'll wash; you dry," she said, and we fell into an awkward silence as we began our shared task.

I stole glances at Alana as we worked. Finally, I broke the silence. "Umm, Alana... I'm sorry about your parents."

"Don't be," she snapped sharply, her voice brittle.

I fumbled for words. Come on, Harry—say something, anything to break the tension. I thought for a moment, then blurted out, "You are beautiful." Immediately, I cursed myself—what if that came off as creepy? My heart pounded as I watched her reaction.

"Umm... Thanks?" she replied, her tone uncertain.

I forced a smile. "Yeah... I'm done here. I think we should call it a night, huh?" My voice wavered, already desperate to escape the intensity of the moment.

"Yeah. Goodnight, Harry," she murmured.

"Night, love," I managed as she turned toward the living room. "Good night, guys. I'm off to bed," she called out softly.

"Goodnight, babe," Kiara and Niall chimed in.

And just like that, she was gone.

I stared at the closed door of Alana's room, feeling like an utter idiot. "Guys, I'm such a fucking idiot," I muttered as I sank into a chair.