If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Alone time

The first night alone was quieter than Y/N expected.
Not lonely. Just... hollow around the edges.
The house settled early, every sound sharper in Harry's absence-the soft click of the heater, the hum of the fridge, Darcy's tiny breaths filling the room. Y/N moved through the evening on instinct now. When Darcy stirred, she didn't panic. She lifted her gently, rocked without thinking, murmured nonsense that worked.

Later, curled on the couch with Darcy asleep against her chest, Y/N realized something that surprised her.
She wasn't waiting.
She wasn't counting minutes until Harry came back so she could feel capable again.
She already was.
She kissed Darcy's hair softly. "We're okay," she whispered.
Darcy sighed, warm and steady, like she agreed.

Midway through the second week of promo, Harry sat beneath studio lights that felt harsher than usual.

The interviewer smiled warmly. "Congratulations on the album. The response has been incredible."

"Thank you," Zayn said, polite, practiced.

"And tour's officially underway," she continued. "How's the adjustment been?"

"Good," Harry replied. "Busy."

She tilted her head. "It's been a big year for you personally."

Harry's shoulders stiffened just slightly.

"There's been a lot of love around you lately," she went on. "Fans are very invested."

He gave a small smile, already bracing.

"How's your daughter doing?"

The word landed heavier than he expected.

"She's really good," Harry said quietly. "But I'd like to not speak about her."

"And Y/N?" the interviewer asked. "How's she holding up?"

His breath hitched before he could stop it.

"She's incredible," he said, voice softening. "But just like my daughter is like to keep that private as well."

The interviewer nodded. "Is it difficult being away so soon after becoming a dad?"

Harry stared at the floor for a beat too long.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It is."

"And do you worry about missing things?" she asked. "First moments?"

His jaw tightened. His eyes shone under the lights. His fists started to tighten.

Before he could answer, Liam leaned forward smoothly.

"I think what's really special," Liam said, "is how much this album reflects where all of us are right now. We've grown up together, and you can hear that."

The interviewer smiled, grateful for the pivot. "That's a great point."

Louis jumped in easily. "Yeah, we're not pretending we're eighteen anymore."

Niall laughed. "Some of us never were."

Zayn nodded. "We took more time with this one. Let things sit. And make sure it flows."

Harry stayed quiet, shoulders easing just slightly.

Then the interviewer glanced back down at her card.

"Fans have been incredibly supportive," she said. "They're very invested in this new chapter of your life."

Harry's posture changed immediately. Straighter. Guarded.

"Do you think fans will ever get to see the baby?" she asked. "Out and about, maybe? Or is that something you'll share eventually?"

The room went still.

Harry looked up slowly.

"No. Absolutely not," he said.

Not sharp. Not angry.

Just final.

"That's not going to happen," he continued, voice calm but firm. "She's not part of my work. She's not a headline. She's my daughter. Not a reward for anyone."

The interviewer blinked.

"We're keeping her private," Harry added. "That's not changing."

Louis nodded beside him.
Niall murmured, "Fair enough."
Zayn stayed steady.
Liam didn't look surprised at all.

"Of course," the interviewer said quickly. "Thank you for clarifying."

Harry nodded once, jaw tight, hands clasped together.

"Alright," she continued. "Let's talk about the album."

The cameras rolled on.

But something in Harry didn't unclench.

Not yet.

Back at the hotel, Harry sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

There was a knock.
Zayn didn't wait.
He took one look at Harry's face and shut the door behind him.

"You okay?" Zayn asked quietly.

Harry shook his head.

"I nearly walked out Zayn," he said, voice breaking. "I could feel it happening."

Zayn stayed still. Present.

"I miss them," Harry said, tears spilling freely now. "I miss Darcy so much it feels physical. And Y/N-she's doing all of this without me. I hate not being there."

"You're not gone," Zayn said gently.

Harry laughed weakly. "Feels like it."

"You showed up," Zayn said. "On camera. Out loud. You chose them. Keeping them private."

Harry dragged a hand down his face, breathing hard.

"I just want to go home," he whispered.

"You will," Zayn said. "And they'll be right where you left them."

When Harry finally came home, it wasn't loud.

It was collapse. Y/N opened the door before he could knock, Darcy tucked against her shoulder, and Harry barely made it inside before his arms wrapped around both of them. He held them tight-too tight at first-then broke, face buried against Y/N's shoulder as the tears came again.

"I'm home," he said, wrecked.

Y/N held him just as firmly. "You are."

He kissed her hair, Darcy's head, then pulled back enough to look at them like he needed proof.

"I hated being away," he admitted.

"We were okay," Y/N said softly, and touched Harry's face . "I was okay. She was okay."

That surprised him.

Later, after Darcy was asleep and the house settled again, Harry sat beside Y/N on the bed, exhaustion carved into every line of him.

"I don't need it loud anymore," he said quietly. "I just need this."

Y/N leaned into him, steady and sure. "Then you're exactly where you're meant to be."

Harry wrapped his arms around her, holding on like he finally understood what home was.

Not the place.
The people.
And this time, he wasn't afraid to say it out loud.