The Maiden in Winter // Harry Styles Series #4

EPILOGUE - Alex

It wasn't a fairy tale.

On our first trip to London, for the birth of Gemma and Michal's daughter, I spent two weeks torn between misgivings about leaving the General at the height of the summer season, joy as we welcomed little Robin, and excitement as we got to know Harry's city.

There were shopping trips. No Aymberlynnes or Kaighleighs in mall stores, just discrete salespeople in quiet boutiques and couture houses opened after hours just for us. There were dinners out in the best restaurants and hole-in-the-wall cafés. There was even a late-night trip to the hottest club.

We were photographed dancing at the club. We were photographed flying a kite with Bean on Hampstead Heath. We were photographed kissing, over Bean's head while he stuck his finger in his mouth and made a barf face as we walked down Marylebone High Street. And it was ok. At first.

We had planned on spending a third week at Anne's, but my anxiety about the store began to eat at me after about ten days. I stopped enjoying myself, started getting more short-tempered and angrier with each new picture and ridiculous caption that appeared online or in the tabloids. Not wanting to disappoint Bean, who was looking forward to another trip to Just Kidding and Mandeville's, I left a week early, by myself.

There were crying baths and late nights talking with Andy, even a session with Leigh, while Harry and Bean were still in England. There was a seemingly endless weighing of pros and cons, hopes versus realities, and hours of heart and soul searching. 

I had already made the decision to stick with it, to keep working on adjusting to my new notoriety, when my boys came home. Seeing them come down the airstairs, holding hands and laughing, then being wrapped in their arms as we said hello, was all I needed to be certain we were worth it.

Harry traveled a lot that first year, visiting family and friends, working on a new album, and collaborating on a new clothing line. We hated being apart, but the store and Bean's school schedule put serious restraints on my free time. I went through a few more insecure periods, doubting him, myself, us. Again, Leigh helped us work through it. 

I decided to pull Bean out of school after second grade and homeschool him so we could move with Harry. I missed the General, but Ed and Lizzy managed it as well as if they were Griffins. I still made lunch for the locals when I was home, and we had year-round help from Karlie and her next younger sister. We helped Lisha buy the Fluke, and Caroline and Ian became part of our Janesport circle.

The second summer, a few drinks into a girls' night out, Caroline confessed to her part in Medicine. That was an uncomfortable evening.

Of course, the fact that Harry's fourth album - Higher than Heaven - was almost entirely about me and Bean and our little family made it a little easier to take, and Caroline is still a good friend to us both.

Yes, I let him write about me, about us. He recorded all twelve songs before he let me hear them, making it clear that he would write twelve new ones if I still didn't want our story out there. I only had to hear the ballad Love and Light once to know he needed to release it. It was a new sound for him, mellow and soulful, the best yet, and the world loved it as much as I did.

His second single, Sunshine Boy, began with Bean's soundbite, and it did even better than As It Was, earning a slew of awards nominations.

We took Bean to the Grammys, and he opened Harry's performance of the song. I flat out ugly cried on global television – twice - as Harry dedicated his Song of the Year award to my brother, and his Album of the Year award to me, his love and his light.

We took Bean on tour as Harry played smaller venues, doing five or ten show mini residencies with two week breaks between. We would go home to Janesport, or London, or Italy, where Bean could spend time with friends and see family.

The tour wrapped in June of 2026, and we celebrated the Fourth of July at Maiden Point with everyone we loved most. It really was a haven, tucked behind the new gate just past the Lowell's beach house. Harry had added on to the two cottages and created a complete little studio complex, where Mitch recorded his second album and other artists came to get away from it all and create. The fourth house, perched at the top of the island, was always full of friends, family, and visiting musicians.

I enjoyed meeting most of Harry's friends and peers in the business, and made a few friends of my own. They really were just people, and I never felt uncomfortable being a 'normal' in their midst. Mom and Dad would have been proud.

Andy moved into my house on the first of this year. Because of security concerns, and because I was in no shape to lift and carry anything, we asked Michael Murphy to arrange to move the last of my things, putting some in storage and bringing some to Maiden Point.

One of the movers jumped out of the van's passenger seat and sprinted back to me as they were leaving.

"Ms. Griffin, this was wedged behind that blue dresser. I thought it might be important, a keepsake."

He handed me a small, pink, heart-shaped porcelain box.

"Thank you..." my voice trailed off as he climbed back in the truck and they pulled out of the driveway.

I walked in the house, my mind a million miles away, one hand idly turning the box, the other rubbing lazy circles over my belly. I almost ran into Harry as I entered the kitchen.

He said his usual "Hello little one," to the baby, then "What's that you've got, love?"

I looked up at him in a panic, and felt the heat burning up my neck and face.

"I... It's... Oh my god."

It was too late to hide it, too late to deny it. I handed him the box and he opened it, peering inside before turning it over. Something small, white, hard and lumpy, wrapped in worn waxed paper marked with 'HS' and the date 11/25/12 in faded ink, fell onto his palm.

He looked at it for a minute, his brows lowered, curious. He rolled it in his fingers and read the paper. And then it happened. His eyes lit up and his smile spread, dimples pulling deep in his cheeks.

"You didn't?"

I was horrified, mortified that I'd been found out, all these years later. I started to cry.

"Oh, what are those tears for? No, no, no. This is wonderful. This is perfect." He put the gum back in the box, closed the lid, and set it almost reverently on the table. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me as close as he could. "Please don't be embarrassed. I really do think it's wonderful. Do you know what one of the first things I ever said about you was? What I said to Leigh?"

I shook my head.

"I said you were real. And this," he pointed to the box, "is so real. This is the reality of a seventeen year old girl." He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. "Did you show it to anyone? Brag about it?"

I shook my head.

"Did Andy know?"

I shook my head again. "No, nobody did. I didn't even tell him you'd been there. It wasn't about showing off; that would've spoiled it somehow."

He tilted my head up with a finger under my chin, and leaned his forehead against mine. "And that, Alex Griffin, says so much about you. I love it that you kept the gum, and I love you." 

It's not a fairy tale, but it is a damn good story.