offshore | h.s

52

HARRY STYLES

I wake up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle warmth over the room. Glancing at the clock, I see that it's 7 AM. Gen lies beside me, her breathing slow and steady, but even in sleep, I can sense the weight of her pain.

The past week has been really fucking tough. 

Gen's been in so much pain. Avery is trying her best to understand, but at her young age, she can't fully grasp the magnitude of what we've lost. 

 I'll never get to meet my little boy.

As I lie here beside Gen, I can't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over me. I want nothing more than to take away her pain, to bear it myself if I could, but I know that's not possible. All I can do is hold her close, to offer whatever comfort and support I can.

The thought of our son, gone before he ever had the chance to take his first breath, is almost too much to bear. I ache to hold him, to see his face, to hear his cries – but all I'm left with are shattered dreams and aching emptiness.

But I've also got to get the house organized. People are coming today to pack up our things, as we are set to move into the new house in just over a week. I think Gen has come to terms with it, but I'm not really sure. 

I gently shake her awake, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains casting a warm glow over her peaceful features. "Gen, love, the movers will be here soon," I murmur softly, trying to rouse her from her slumber. She stirs slightly, her eyelids fluttering open before closing again in a drowsy haze.

With a resigned smile, I watch as she snuggles deeper into the blankets, seeking refuge in the last remnants of sleep. I know she's exhausted, both physically and emotionally. But there's no time for me to linger in the comfort of our bed, not when there's so much to be done.

Reluctantly, I leave her to rest a little longer, knowing that I'll have to rouse her again soon.

As I descend the stairs, I find Amber bustling about in the kitchen, a stack of my belongings neatly piled on the countertop. Pots, glasses, and plates, essentials for our new home in LA, await packing. Amber looks up from the blender, a green smoothie already in hand, a daily ritual we both rely on. "Morning, H. Smoothie's ready," she says with a warm smile, handing me the drink.

I nod my thanks, taking a sip as I lean against the kitchen island. "Thanks, Amber. You're a lifesaver,".

She sets down her glass, meeting my gaze with concern etched in her eyes. "I'll help as much as possible, especially because of the state of Gen,".

Gemma appears at the foot of the stairs, Avery cradled in her arms. Avery, still groggy from sleep, tiredly yawns as she reaches out to me. "Daddy," she mumbles, her voice heavy with sleep. I scoop her up into my arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

"Good morning! Did Aunty Gem wake you up?" I ask, and Avery nods, snuggling closer to me. 

Gemma chimes in with a smile, "She was calling out for you."

"Hey, Ave," I begin, settling Avery more comfortably in my arms. "Today's going to be a busy day, yeah? Some people are going to come to our house to put your toys in boxes so we can take them to our new house."

Avery looks up at me, her brows furrowing in confusion. "But why, Daddy?" she asks, her voice tinged with innocence and curiosity.

"Well, remember how we talked about going to live in a new house? We're going to take all of our things with us, including your toys," I explain gently, trying to make the concept understandable for her.