If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Pre wedding

Four days before the wedding, the house stopped pretending it was anything other than chaos.

It started the moment the boys arrived.

Louis burst through the door first like he'd been launched out of a cannon, shouting something about luggage and nearly tripping over a stack of neatly labeled boxes. Niall followed, arms full of grocery bags he immediately dropped on the counter.

"Before anyone says anything," he announced, "this is all essential."

Liam came in last, already apologizing for the noise while attempting to stack shoes in some kind of organized way that no one respected.

And in the middle of it all sat Darcy.

Seven months old. Upright. Unbothered. Thriving.

She sat on the living room rug propped by pillows like a tiny supervisor, back straight and proud, legs kicking whenever something interesting happened-which was constant. Her eyes tracked every movement, every raised voice, every burst of laughter.

Louis slid across the floor in his socks and dramatically collapsed in front of her.

Darcy howled.

A full, delighted, belly-deep laugh burst out of her that stopped the room cold.

"Oh no," Niall said solemnly. "She thinks he's funny."

"She's got excellent taste," Louis grinned. "I knew it."

Harry leaned against the doorway watching it all, laughing-really laughing-but Y/N noticed the way his fingers kept twisting at his ring finger. Four days. Close enough now to feel like standing at the edge of something permanent.

Darcy slapped the rug proudly and babbled like she'd personally approved the chaos.

Then the front door opened again.

This time, quieter.

Harry looked up-and froze.

Zayn stood just inside the doorway, jacket still on, hands tucked into his pockets like he wasn't sure where he belonged anymore.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Darcy did.

She turned sharply toward him, eyes widening with immediate recognition. She squealed-high and excited-and leaned forward with purpose, arms lifting, legs kicking like she was trying to launch herself across the room.

Zayn blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."

Harry crossed the room in two steps and pulled him into a hug that was too tight to be casual, too emotional to pretend otherwise.

"You came," Harry whispered, voice breaking.

"Course I did," Zayn said quietly. "I wouldn't miss this."

Behind them, Louis wiped his face dramatically. Niall sniffed and blamed allergies. Liam pretended to be very busy rearranging cushions.

Zayn crouched, and Darcy grabbed his finger immediately-solid, deliberate.

"Well," Zayn laughed softly, eyes glassy. "Guess that settles it."

"She knows you," Harry said hoarsely.

Darcy babbled happily, sitting steady and proud, like she'd been waiting for him specifically.

Later-after Darcy had been passed around one more time and finally settled upstairs for a nap-the noise softened into smaller pockets. The house was still loud, still full, but calmer.

Harry found Y/N in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching everything with a soft smile.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

He nodded, but his eyes were still shiny. "I just... didn't think he'd come. Not like this."

She hesitated, then took a breath. "I need to tell you something."

Harry turned fully toward her. "What?"

She smiled, a little nervous now. "I kind of had a plan to get him here."

Harry blinked. "You did what?"

"I talked to him weeks ago," she admitted softly. "I didn't push. I just told him what this meant to you. To Darcy. That you'd understand either way-but that you'd love him for showing up."

Harry stared at her, stunned.

"You planned this?"

"I hoped," she said quietly.

Something in him broke open completely.

He stepped forward and cupped her face with both hands, kissing her-once, twice, again-like he couldn't say thank you any other way. His kisses were soft but urgent, full of everything he couldn't fit into words.

"I love you," he said, voice thick, forehead pressed to hers. "I love you so much it actually hurts."

She smiled through the emotion and whispered back, steady and sure,
"I love you too."

Harry exhaled like he'd been holding that breath for months. He kissed her again-her cheek, her temple, the corner of her mouth-unable to stop himself.

"I can't wait," he murmured, hands still framing her face, eyes soft and intense all at once, "for you to be mine officially. For you to have my last name."

Her breath caught.

Upstairs, Darcy babbled faintly through the monitor, like she'd timed it perfectly.

Harry laughed quietly and pulled Y/N into his chest, holding her there like the world could pause another second.

Four days before vows.
Seven months into fatherhood.
A house full of noise, love, and people who chose each other-on purpose.

For the first time since the countdown began, the future didn't feel like something rushing at them.
It felt like something they were ready to meet-together.