Y/N was a miracle.
That was what his mother and sister always repeated everytime Harry returned to his hometown after multiple business trips. Her parents had been trying for years to have a baby, and after so many attempts she was born.
They were almost forty years old the day they found out, and they were always terrified of losing her, but luckily, they never did.
He only remembered that she was very shy, but so was he, so he didn't blame her. From what he'd heard from his sister, she was studying to be a nurse, but she had also earned her place as a model.
He didn't dare google her.
He nods at the phone, looking out the window of his private plane when they've landed, and his secretary walks over to him, waiting for him to hang up.
"Are you listening to me, dear?" asks Anne from the other end of the line. "Harry?"
"M'sorry, it's just that we've just landed." He replies, as he puts a finger to his ear to stop the beeping.
"I want you here at 12, it's been a while since you've seen Y/N's family and I want everything to be perfect." She pronounces. "I love you."
"Yes mum. I love you too."
He hangs up the phone, unbuckles his security belt and stands up, adjusting his tailored blue suit. His glasses are slipping down his nose, so he adjusts them with his index finger and finally runs a hand through his hair, which needs a trim.
All under the watchful eye of Jazmin, his assistant.
"Are you ready, Mr. Styles?" She asks him, pressing the folders against her chest.
"I am." He replies as he walks over to greet the pilot. "Have a good day, Jack."
"Thank you, Mr. Styles."
Harry walks down the stairs of the private jet, swapping his glasses for sunglasses when he spots some paparazzi. Jazmin scurries after him, her heels clicking against the cement.
"I was wondering if maybe you would like to go eat at this place...–"
He shakes hands with the man who holds out the keys to his Audi R8 Coupe and climbs into the car, putting it in gear under her gaze. "Call the people from About Face and tell them I'll send them copies of the contract next week. Goodbye, Miss Hails."
All that can be heard is the screech of expensive tyres against the ground, and the Pleasing CEO disappears again to attend to his duties as son and brother.
He has time to go home, so he drives there. When he arrives, the house is empty, dark and silent like always, which puts him off a bit even if it's the same everytime. Maybe he should adopt a pet so he doesn't feel so lonely.
He takes a shower and changes into more comfortable, less formal clothes. Baggy jeans, vans and a sweater are today's choice. And yes, maybe he looked ridiculous being thirty-one years old and dressing like that, but he liked it and it looked good on him.
Before leaving, he takes care to open the curtains and the windows so the London sun illuminates the mansion, and removes the smell of confinement accumulated by the two weeks of his absence.
He goes down to his garage and decides to choose his Range Rover this time, he thinks it's a good choice as he won't be so easily identified. Two expensive bottles of wine is what he buys on the way to his childhood home, and when he arrives at Holmes Chapel, he sees that there's one more car in the driveway.
"Ah, shit." He grunts, stroking his right arm that was stiff from driving three hours straight, and probably also from age. "Getting old sucks."
He grabs the box with the wines and gets out of the car, he can hear his older sister's booming voice as he opens the door with his keys, and the homely atmosphere shocks him.
