SIX - One Direction

67

The months that followed their split were a quiet storm for both Harry and Alex. They were two individuals who had spent years so intertwined that it was hard to imagine being apart—but now, with a little distance between them, they found themselves standing on their own two feet. The rhythm of their lives had changed, and it was both a relief and a challenge. For Alex, it was an opportunity to rediscover who she was outside of the band and the relationship, to find her voice in a world that had so often defined her by the band.

Harry, too, was in a new world—solo albums, solo performances, interviews where he had to speak about himself, rather than his bandmates or the people closest to him. It was unfamiliar, and at times, overwhelming. But both of them were determined to make it work, to push through the pain and figure out who they were without each other.

For Alex, the studio became a place of catharsis. She wasn't just crafting an album; she was exorcising the ghosts of her past, of the love she had lost, of the person she thought she would spend forever with. Ethan, her producer and long-time friend, was by her side through it all, a steady presence in the chaos of creativity.

It wasn't easy at first. Every song felt like a tug-of-war between honesty and restraint. But with each session, she found herself digging deeper, exposing parts of herself she had kept buried under layers of distraction and shared moments with Harry.

One late evening, she sat alone in the studio, surrounded by crumpled papers and empty coffee cups, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Her pen hovered over the page, the last verse of a song that she could never quite finish no matter how many times she tried. The frustration was mounting. It felt like the song, like everything else, was incomplete.

Ethan walked in just as she let out a long sigh, tossing her pen across the table. He held two steaming mugs of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.

"Thought you could use this," he said, setting one mug down in front of her.

Alex smiled gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. "You know me too well." She took a sip, the bitterness of the coffee grounding her. "I don't know what it is about this song. It feels like every time I sit down to finish it, something's missing."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You know, sometimes the best songs come from what we're afraid to say." He watched her carefully. "Maybe you're holding back."

Alex's gaze flickered back to the lyrics in front of her, the words on the page mocking her. "Maybe," she whispered, her voice soft with a hint of self-doubt. She paused, running a hand through her hair. "I think I know what I'm holding back."

Ethan didn't press her, but his silence spoke volumes. He simply nodded, giving her the space she needed.

"I've been trying to ignore it," Alex continued, her voice breaking slightly. "The fact that I miss him. That I still think about Harry every damn day. How stupid is that?"

Ethan gave her a sympathetic look. "It's not stupid at all, Al. It's human." He took a deep breath, his tone a little lighter now. "Listen, this album is yours. Don't write something you think people want to hear. Write what you need to say."

Alex thought about that for a moment. Ethan was right. She had spent so much of her life thinking about the people around her, thinking about Harry, thinking about how their love would define her. But now, for the first time in a long while, she needed to do this for herself.

She took a deep breath and picked up the pen again, the weight of her emotions flooding the page. The song came to life in a way it never had before—raw, honest, and vulnerable. Each line felt like a release, a way to take all the things she had bottled up inside and give them a voice.