SIX - One Direction

68

Months passed in the blink of an eye, and life for Alex seemed to rush forward at an exhilarating pace. The frenzy surrounding Made in the A.M. had long since quieted, and for the first time, the members of One Direction found themselves carving out their own paths. The weight of the band's breakup, that moment they all knew was inevitable, still lingered in their minds, but there was an unspoken understanding now—a sense of peace in the way their lives had unfolded.

Liam, Louis, and Niall were busy with their solo ventures, each tackling projects that had once seemed out of reach, while Harry had settled into the role of a solo artist with his album HS1, a clear testament to his artistry and vulnerability. There were occasional catch-ups between them all, but the truth was that their lives had evolved. The band they had once been—the boys who spent years together on the road—had transformed, and though they would always be connected, it was in new and different ways now.

For Alex, the months had been a blur of work and rediscovery. She was crafting her own narrative, just as Harry was, and for the first time in ages, she felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. It wasn't just about being the girl in the band anymore; it was about being Alex. She had learned, through time and loss, how to live for herself. And she was thriving.

One warm evening in New York City, Alex found herself dressed to the nines at the Met Gala, a night that she had once considered a far-off dream when she was still part of One Direction's whirlwind. But now, standing in the heart of the city's glitzy event, she felt the calm buzz of confidence that only came with time. She had arrived solo, her sleek black gown shimmering under the lights, a perfect embodiment of everything she had become.

She wasn't just Alex from One Direction anymore; she was Alex, the artist, the woman who had found her own rhythm. The paparazzi flashed their cameras, and the crowd murmured as she made her way into the grand hall, but there was a sense of ease about her now.

As she mingled with designers and fellow musicians, she couldn't help but smile at how far she had come. There were no longer any nerves, no longer the frantic energy of being "one of the girls" in a group. She was standing on her own, and that was more than enough.

In the middle of a conversation with a stylist, she heard a familiar voice call her name. 

"Alex."

She froze, her heart skipping a beat before she turned. Standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored white suit, was Harry. His hair was a little longer than she remembered, his eyes still carrying that intense warmth she had once known so well. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as they locked eyes, the noise of the gala fading around them. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, but here they were, standing face to face.

"Hey, stranger," Alex said, her voice catching slightly as she fought to keep the surprise in check.

"Hey," Harry replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "You look... stunning."

Alex blushed, her fingers instinctively reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she murmured, feeling a flutter in her chest. "You're not so bad yourself."

There was an awkward beat where neither of them knew what to say. It was strange, seeing each other again in this context, but there was something about it that felt right, too.

"Would you like to grab a drink?" Harry finally asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Alex's smile was soft, but genuine. "Yeah. I'd like that."

They slipped away from the crowded main floor to a quieter corner of the room, where they each grabbed a cocktail. It wasn't like old times—they weren't two people in the middle of a whirlwind tour, but they shared a comfortable, almost intimate silence. Time had passed, and they had changed, but in this moment, the ease between them was undeniable.