𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍, ʰᵃʳʳʸ ˢᵗʸˡᵉˢ

• 𝟒𝟒 - 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡

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two months later

the weight of it all was suffocating.

touring was hard enough on its own—long nights, endless travel, and the pressure to always be "on." but lately, everything had become unbearable. the exhaustion, the nausea, the overwhelming stress. i could feel my body begging for a break, but there was no room for that.

simon's demands were relentless, and my own insecurities whispered cruel things in my head. i wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't enough for the fans, for the band, for harry. it didn't matter how hard i pushed myself—nothing ever felt like it was enough.

and then there was the eating. or, rather, the lack of it.

i thought i'd gotten better. i thought i'd moved past the days of skipping meals and lying to myself that i was fine. but the stress had brought it all back, creeping in quietly at first and then taking over completely. i was too tired to eat, too nauseous, too busy. at least, that's what i told myself. but deep down, i knew. i was slipping again, and it wasn't just me i was hurting anymore.

harry noticed, of course. he always noticed.

"you've barely touched your plate," he said one night, his voice soft but firm as we sat in the hotel dining room. the others were scattered around, but his focus was entirely on me.

"i'm not hungry," i muttered, pushing the food around on my plate.

"amélie," he said, his tone more serious now. "you have to eat. for you and the baby."

i glanced up at him, guilt twisting in my stomach. "i will," i promised, though we both knew it wasn't true.

he didn't push further, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

but i couldn't lie or push the feeling away, the past few months had been a blur—city after city, stage after stage. my body ached constantly, and i was running on fumes. though the pregnancy wasn't obvious yet, i always felt and looked bloated, like my body was betraying me at every turn. it was easier that way—no bump meant no questions from simon, no awkward conversations yet. i knew the time would come when i had to face him, but for now, i shoved that fear down.

except today, i couldn't shove anything down.

"again," simon's voice barked from the sound booth, his tone clipped and unrelenting.

i stood on stage, microphone in hand, feeling like i might collapse. my voice cracked as i tried to hit the chorus one more time, the strain obvious. my hands shook from exhaustion, and i could feel the sweat pooling at the base of my neck.

"it's fine, simon," harry cut in, stepping toward me. "she's already done it perfectly three times."

"harry, let me handle this," simon shot back, glaring. "amélie, again."

i bit my lip, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill. "simon, i need a break."

"you'll get one when the rehearsal is over," he snapped, not even looking at me.

harry's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "you can't keep pushing her like this," he said, his voice low but firm. "she's—"

"harry, stop," i interrupted him, my voice hoarse. the last thing i needed was for simon to figure it out now, when i wasn't ready.

harry hesitated, looking torn, but he stepped back. i could feel his eyes on me, worried and protective.

"one more time," simon said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

i gritted my teeth and forced myself to sing again, the notes sounding hollow and strained. by the time i finished, my vision was blurry, and my chest felt tight.

"again," simon said, like it was nothing.

that was it. the dam broke.

"no!" i screamed, my voice echoing through the empty venue. "i'm done!"

simon looked up, startled, his eyes narrowing. "excuse me?"

"i said i'm done!" my voice cracked, and the tears i'd been holding back started to fall. "you've been pushing me and pushing me, and i can't take it anymore! i'm exhausted, i'm stressed, and i'm sick of you acting like we're machines instead of people!"

"amélie," simon started, his tone dangerously low, but i cut him off.

"no! don't you 'amélie' me! you don't care about us, you just care about the money and the fame and the stupid fucking contracts!" my voice was shaking, and i could feel harry step closer, his presence grounding me even as i spiraled.

"you have no idea what i'm dealing with," i continued, my voice breaking. "you don't care that i'm barely sleeping, that my body feels like it's falling apart. you don't care about anything but your bottom line!"

"that's enough," simon snapped, his face red. "you're being dramatic. if you can't handle the pressure, maybe you shouldn't be here."

his words hit me like a slap. maybe i shouldn't be here.

"maybe i shouldn't," i said quietly, my voice trembling. "maybe i shouldn't be here if it means sacrificing everything else in my life just to make you happy."

simon stared at me, his expression unreadable, but i didn't care anymore. i turned on my heel and walked off the stage, my hands shaking. harry was right behind me, his hand on my back as we left the venue.

"hey," he said softly, once we were out of simon's earshot. "breathe, baby. it's okay."

"it's not okay, harry," i said, my voice breaking. "i can't do this anymore. i can't keep pretending like i'm fine when i'm not. i'm so tired, and he doesn't care. he'll never care."

harry pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as i sobbed against his chest. "we'll figure it out," he said, his voice calm and steady. "you're not doing this alone. i'm here, amélie. i've got you. i love you. "

"i love you most, but i can't tell him yet," i whispered, my voice shaking. "i can't let him know about the baby. but i don't know how much longer i can keep this up."

harry pulled back just enough to look at me, his green eyes filled with worry and determination. "then we'll figure out another way. whatever it takes, we'll make it work. i promise."

i nodded, wiping my tears away, but the weight on my chest didn't lift. i wasn't just carrying my own fears and insecurities anymore. i was carrying the future of this tiny life growing inside me, and that responsibility felt crushing.

as we made our way back to the hotel, harry stayed close, his hand never leaving mine. i knew he meant it when he said he'd be there for me, but that didn't stop the fear from creeping in.

maybe simon was right. maybe i couldn't handle this. but i wasn't going to let him decide that for me.

not yet.

𝐚𝐯𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬!!!
my poor baby