If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Happy Christmas

Christmas morning didn't announce itself.

It arrived softly, the way real life always did now-through pale winter light slipping in around the curtains and the quiet sound of Darcy stirring in her bassinet.

Y/N woke first.

She lay still for a moment, listening. The house was silent except for the faint hum of the heater and Darcy's tiny breaths, uneven and sweet. Beside her, Harry slept on his side, hair a mess, one arm stretched instinctively toward the bassinet like he'd reach for her even in dreams.

Her chest tightened.

This.
This was Christmas now.

Darcy let out a small noise-half yawn, half complaint.

Harry woke instantly.

"I've got her," he murmured, already sitting up, voice thick with sleep but alert in a way only new parents ever were.

He scooped Darcy into his arms with practiced care, cradling her against his chest. She blinked up at him, eyes unfocused for half a second before recognition hit.

Then she smiled.
Big. Gummy. Unmistakably pleased.

Harry laughed under his breath. "Merry Christmas, bug."

Y/N pressed her hand to her mouth, tears pricking immediately. "She knows," she whispered.

"She absolutely knows," Harry said, kissing Darcy's temple, then her cheek, then her forehead like he couldn't help himself.

They didn't rush.
There was no schedule. No alarms. No rush to be anywhere.

Harry padded into the kitchen barefoot with Darcy tucked against him, narrating everything like she was already fully invested in the process.

"Okay, so this is coffee," he said seriously. "Very important. Mum survives on this."

Darcy kicked her feet.

Y/N leaned against the counter watching them, heart so full it almost hurt.

Coffee was made. Forgotten. Reheated. Forgotten again.
Darcy sat propped between them on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, completely mesmerized by the Christmas tree. The lights blinked slowly, reflected in her wide eyes like magic.

She stared.
Then smiled.
Then let out a delighted little sound that made both of them freeze.

"Oh my god," Y/N laughed. "Did you hear that?"

Harry nodded, eyes shining. "That was joy. That was actual joy."

They exchanged small gifts first.
Nothing dramatic. Thoughtful things. Intimate things.

Harry watched Y/N open hers like it mattered more than any headline ever had. She laughed. She cried. She kissed him slow and grateful, arms tight around his neck.

Then Harry cleared his throat.

"Okay," he said, suddenly shy in a way that made her heart stutter. "One more thing."

He handed her a small envelope.

She frowned, glancing at Darcy. "Harry-"

"Just... trust me."

Inside was a single key.

Y/N stared at it, confused. "What is this?"

Harry swallowed. "Come see."

⸻

The drive was quiet.
Darcy fell asleep in the back seat, exhausted from excitement she didn't fully understand. Y/N stared out the window, mind racing, trying not to build expectations she was afraid to break.

When Harry parked and got out first, opening her door with a softness that felt intentional, her breath caught.

The house stood quietly in front of them.

Not flashy. Not overwhelming.
Just... right.
Harry unlocked the door.

"It's yours," he said softly. "Ours."

Y/N stepped inside.

The air felt different. Still. Solid.

She walked slowly, almost reverently, Darcy tucked against her chest. Living room. Kitchen. Windows already filled with imagined mornings.

Then she reached the nursery.

Soft paint. Gentle light. A space that didn't feel temporary or borrowed.

Y/N stopped breathing.

She sank down to the floor, clutching Darcy as tears came fast and unrestrained.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, Harry."

Harry was there instantly, kneeling beside her, arms wrapping around both of them, holding her like the moment might break otherwise.

"She deserves a place," he said quietly. "And so do you."

Darcy chose that moment to kick her feet and coo loudly, like she was approving the entire thing.

Y/N laughed through her tears. "She likes it."

Harry smiled. "Of course she does."

⸻

Anne arrived later, bringing warmth with her like she always did.

She didn't hesitate-just took Y/N into a hug that felt grounding and safe and full of things she didn't need to say out loud.

"You've built something beautiful," Anne said softly.

Darcy immediately claimed her, fingers curling around Anne's scarf like she'd decided this was hers now.

Anne laughed. "I see how it is."

They spent the afternoon together-sitting on the floor, Darcy between them, Anne telling stories about Harry as a baby, Y/N laughing through half of them and crying through the rest.

Harry watched from the doorway, chest tight, knowing with certainty he'd done something right.

⸻

That night, after Darcy was bathed and fed and finally asleep, Y/N and Harry curled up together on the couch.

Christmas movies played softly, forgotten more than watched. The tree glowed. The house felt lived in already.

Two weeks off.

Then back on the road until March.