Missing: The boy who disappeared

Chapter 8 - Paternity

A/N

Apologies for the extended delay. The Christmas hustle with the kids at home has kept me on my toes. Truth be told, I also had a mini meltdown in my writing world. It's been a constant cycle of writing and deleting, the frustration mounting as I struggled to convey the story as I envisioned it. I'm still not happy with this chapter and this mishap is also the reason that this chapter will focus purely on Harry and Louis’ relationship while taking a break from the investigative side. 

Are you ready? Because Mister Styles is about to discover Saxon's paternity. 👀

Enjoy the 13.2k  word chapter. 🫡

🚨

After Louis sent him away, all Harry could do was rush to the one place that made him feel safe and loved, and that place wasn't LA. Going back there felt unfathomable to him. So he went where his heart led him…to Holmes Chapel. 

Harry carefully lowered his bags onto the veranda. With a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the polished wooden floorboards inside. As he waited, the rhythmic click of heels approached from within the house, building a sense of suspense.

The door swung open, revealing a woman whose eyes widened in surprise. "Harry. What in God's name are you doing here?" Her astonishment was palpable as she took in the unexpected sight of her son standing at the threshold.

A warm smile stretched across Harry's face, an expression of both shock and affection. "Hey, Mum." Without hesitation, he opened up his arms, and they enveloped each other in a tight embrace. The connection, a blend of genuine surprise and the comfort of reunion, filled the space between them, momentarily overshadowing the mystery of Harry's sudden arrival.

“ I need to discuss something with you.”

Harry and his mother sat at the kitchen table, the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. The homely atmosphere belied the weight of the conversation unfolding between them. Harry casually picked up one of the cookies from the middle of the table, taking a thoughtful bite, savouring the familiar taste that brought a momentary distraction.

Anne gazed at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. "This is some story you're putting forth, Harry. Are you really sure about all this?" Her eyes searched his face for any hint of doubt or hesitation.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his expression earnest. He had sat with her, recounting the surreal experience of recognizing Louis, the man from the missing child case, as someone he had shared an intimate night with. 

"Yes, Mum. I'm not kidding. The boy, Saxon, looks just like me." 

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone to show a picture of Saxon before rushing over to the cupboard in the adjoining lounge.

With swift determination, Harry retrieved his baby album and flipped through its pages until he found a similar photograph. Placing it next to the image of Saxon, he proclaimed, "See, he is a carbon copy of me. A copy of a copy if you will.”

Anne examined the pictures side by side, her lips pressed together in contemplation. "Oh, Harry. This is insane. I mean, you are not wrong here. That boy is undeniably yours. I...I don't know what else to say." 

The weight of this new discovery settled in the room, the connection between Harry and the missing child unfolding before them, a surreal truth that left them both grappling with the implications.

Anne's gaze shifted between the photos, a mixture of astonishment and realisation colouring her expression. The gravity of the situation settled in, and she took a deep breath before addressing her son.