I am THE Harry Styles's Therapist

Chapter 6: Sign of the Times

The next day, Harry left for his European tour. Jenny watched him go, a tightness in her chest that wouldn’t go away. They hugged at the airport, a long, lingering embrace that felt like goodbye, even though they both knew it wasn’t. But something had shifted between them.

And as she stood there, watching him disappear through the security gate, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same.

Weeks passed, and Jenny threw herself into her work, trying to regain her sense of balance. Harry sent her sporadic texts, a few phone calls, but the distance between them felt more than just physical. Then, one morning, the tabloids exploded with headlines. Photos of Harry kissing Kendall Jenner at a party in Europe were plastered everywhere. Fans speculated about their relationship, convinced they were back together.
Jenny stared at the photos on her phone, her heart sinking. She had let herself believe, even for a moment, that the kiss they had shared meant something. But of course, she thought bitterly, Harry Styles wasn’t someone who could be tied down. Kisses probably didn’t mean much to him.

She replayed the night on the beach over and over again, the way he had looked at her, the softness in his voice, the way he had kissed her like she was the only person in the world. But now, seeing him with Kendall, it was clear that his world wasn’t her world.
Maybe she had been foolish to think otherwise.

                       Harry’s POV
The hum of the plane's engines echoed in Harry's mind as the LA skyline appeared through the window, bathed in a soft sunset glow. His heart raced, and he cursed himself for being this anxious—it was just Jenny, he thought, though he knew that was far from true. Jenny wasn’t just anyone; she was different. And now, after weeks apart, he couldn’t stop the nervous energy building in his chest.

That kiss. The ocean breeze had carried it, but the memory of it stayed with him, lingering in every quiet moment. Her lips, soft and real, like an anchor that had kept him grounded when everything else in his life felt like it was slipping away.

But it wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything about her.

Jenny Han was unlike any woman he’d ever met—smart, grounded, and uninterested in the flashy world of fame. They connected on a deeper level, beyond music, beyond superficial conversations. With her, he could strip away the layers of "Harry Styles," the pop icon, and just... be.

As the plane landed, his phone buzzed on the tray beside him—yet another notification about the photos with Kendall. Another reminder of how the world misunderstood him. That kiss with Kendall had been meaningless, just a moment in the chaos of a crowded room. But the media, as always, ran wild with it. The truth was, Kendall didn’t matter. Not in the way Jenny did.

That night by the ocean—it kept playing in his mind. The way Jenny had looked at him, like she was seeing all the pieces of him he usually kept hidden. He missed that. He missed her.

Later that night, Harry stood at Jenny's door, guitar in hand, feeling like a teenager on a first date. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the second he saw her—sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers, her glasses slipping down her nose—he felt like everything fell into place.

“You’re back,” Jenny said, her voice light but warm, her smile soft.
“Yeah,” Harry grinned, setting his guitar down. “Couldn’t stay away too long. Missed LA, you know?”
“Right,” she teased. “LA... and your therapist, huh?”
Harry chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. “Yeah... especially my therapist.”

There was a fleeting moment, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, but she quickly returned her focus to the papers around her. Still, Harry could sense it—the way her guard was slipping, just like his.

“I brought something for you,” Harry said, carefully pulling out his guitar. Jenny looked up, curiosity lighting her face.

“You’re going to sing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If you want me to,” he smirked, settling down beside her.
Jenny smiled, her laughter light. “I think I’d like that.”

Harry began to strum softly, the familiar chords flowing under his fingers. As he sang, his voice carried through the small space, wrapping around them. The song was raw, personal—about finding someone who truly understood you, beyond the fame, beyond the noise. His eyes never left hers as he sang, the lyrics pouring from his heart.

Jenny sat quietly, her expression softening with every word. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air between them, a tension neither could deny.

“That was... beautiful,” Jenny whispered when the last note lingered in the room. “Did you write that?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s about someone who's been on my mind a lot.”

Jenny’s eyes flickered with emotion, uncertainty in her gaze. Harry leaned in, his voice softer now. “Jenny, I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I’m across the world, it’s you. It’s always been you since that night.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words faltered. Harry took her hand, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. “You’ve changed me, Jenny,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with meaning. “You make me want to be more. To figure out who I am, not just for the cameras, but for me. You’ve blown my mind.”

Jenny's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her defenses crumbling. “Harry... I don’t know if this is right. I’m your therapist. We have boundaries, and after everything with Kendall—”

“That wasn’t real,” Harry cut in, his voice almost desperate. “That kiss with Kendall meant nothing. But with you... it’s different. You feel different.”
Jenny looked away, conflicted. “It’s not just about that. I’m here to help you. To learn something from this experience—something more than... this.” She motioned between them, the unspoken attraction hanging in the air.

“I know,” Harry whispered. “But maybe what we’re feeling... is the lesson.”

In the weeks that followed, the lines between them blurred even more. They spent countless nights together, laughter, and moments that made both their worlds feel more alive. Harry had never felt this real with anyone, and Jenny... she felt herself unraveling in ways she never expected.

But as December approached, reality loomed. Jenny’s time in LA was ending. She had to return to Boston, to finish her studies and face the life she had put on pause. Harry couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest as the days counted down.
The night before her departure, they sat in Harry’s studio, surrounded by half-written songs and the unspoken weight of what lay ahead.

“I’m going to miss you,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying a note of sadness he couldn’t hide.

Jenny smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll miss you too, Harry. But... I have to go.”

“I know,” Harry nodded, his heart heavy. “You’ve got your life, your goals. And I get it. But just so you know... this—” he motioned between them, “this mattered to me.”

Jenny looked at him, her eyes full of emotion. “You mattered to me too, Harry. You taught me something important. I can't just live in my head anymore. There's more to life than just work and ambition.”

“And you showed me I don’t have to hide behind this... persona,” Harry replied, his voice soft but sincere. “You made me feel like me again.”

They shared one final hug—a bittersweet goodbye, full of everything left unsaid. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was full of understanding, and maybe, a little bit of hope.

Back in Boston, Jenny dove into her studies, but she was no longer the same. Harry had opened a part of her that had long been shut, a part of her that longed for more than just the next achievement. She had learned about herself, about living beyond the confines of her mind, and about love, even in its most complicated form.

Harry, too, was changed. The songs he wrote now were filled with memories of Jenny, of her laugh, her quiet wisdom, and her ability to see him for who he truly was. Though they were miles apart, she remained a part of him, a quiet, persistent echo in his heart.

Some connections, after all, transcend time and distance.