If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Da

Darcy was twenty-one weeks old when she said it.

Not in a way that could be brushed off. Not a sound that could be explained away as coincidence.

It was him.

They were in a quiet rehearsal room that afternoon, the boys scattered around in various states of half-focus. Liam was adjusting cables, Niall sat on the floor leaning against an amp with a bag of crisps, Louis was pacing and talking to himself, and Zayn stood a little apart, arms folded, watching everything with that quiet attentiveness he'd had lately.

Y/N sat on the couch with Darcy propped securely against her chest. At twenty-one weeks, Darcy didn't melt into people anymore - she leaned forward, pushed against the world, demanded to be part of it.

Harry knelt in front of them, talking softly, nonsense words meant only for her.

"Alright, Darce," he murmured. "What do you think, then? Too loud? Too bright?"

Darcy stared at him.

Not the unfocused baby stare she'd had months ago. This was sharp. Intent. Her eyes followed his mouth as he spoke, fingers flexing like she was trying to grab the sound itself.

Harry smiled and laughed quietly.

And Darcy opened her mouth.

"Da... da."

The room stopped breathing.

Y/N froze completely. "Harry-"

He didn't hear her.

Because Darcy did it again.

"Dada."

Clear. Soft. Deliberate.

Harry's face changed instantly - like something inside him shattered and reformed all at once.

"I..," he breathed.

Darcy kicked her legs excitedly, leaning forward toward him, eyes bright and fixed on his face.

"Dada," she said again, louder now, like she was testing how it felt.

Harry laughed once - a sharp, broken sound - and then his eyes filled immediately.

"Oh my god," he whispered, voice cracking. "She... she just called me that."

Y/N covered her mouth, tears spilling before she could stop them.

Louis stared openly. "She absolutely just said that, yeah?"

Liam nodded slowly. "That was not an accident."

Niall sniffed dramatically. "I'm not okay. I'm actually not okay."

Zayn stepped forward without realizing he was moving.
Harry reached out instinctively, hands hovering like he was afraid he might scare her away. "Hey," he murmured. "Hey, love."

Darcy locked onto him completely.

"Dada," she said again - softer this time, almost affectionate - and reached out with one small, determined hand.

Harry broke. He pressed his forehead to Y/N's shoulder, shoulders shaking, breath hitching as a sob escaped him before he could stop it.

"She knows me," he whispered. "She knows who I am."

Y/N wrapped one arm around him, holding both him and Darcy together. "Of course she does," she said softly. "She's been listening to you her whole life."

Zayn crouched slowly in front of Darcy.

Darcy's gaze shifted.

She looked at him for a long second - curious, thoughtful - then babbled something softer, almost questioning, like she was deciding whether he belonged too.

Zayn smiled through glassy eyes. "Hey," he murmured.

Harry looked up at him, eyes red. "She's going to forget this."

Zayn shook his head immediately. "No," he said quietly. "She won't forget this. Maybe not the word. But the feeling."

Darcy made a small, content sound and rested her head briefly against Harry's chest, fingers gripping his shirt.

Zayn swallowed hard. "That's... that's enough to ruin me."

Harry laughed weakly through tears. "Join the club."

Later, when Darcy was asleep and the room had quieted, Zayn sat beside Harry on the floor, backs against the wall.

"She said it with me here," Zayn said softly.

Harry nodded. "Like she knew it mattered."

Zayn looked down at his hands. "She'll be bigger by the time I go."

"Twenty-one weeks now," Harry said. "Feels like she grew up overnight."

Zayn exhaled slowly. "Feels like I'm leaving in the middle of something important."

Harry turned toward him. "You're part of it. Always."

Zayn nodded, eyes shining. "I hope she keeps something of me."

Harry smiled faintly. "She already has."

Across the room, Darcy shifted slowly falling asleep and let out a small, satisfied sound - fuller than it used to be, steadier.

And for the first time since deciding to leave, Zayn let himself believe that some goodbyes didn't erase love.

They just changed its shape.