Harry:
Madison Square Garden was sold out, the crowd roaring with excitement. It was one of the biggest nights of Harry's career, and he knew it. The lights, the music, the fans—everything felt like a dream he had worked tirelessly to achieve. His mum Anne, his sister Gemma, and the love of his life were in the VIP suite, sharing this extraordinary moment with him.
You'd felt all day that something was different. The pressure in your lower back and the occasional tightening had you on edge, but you tried to ignore it. This was Harry's night, and nothing—not even the impending arrival of your first baby—was going to distract him.
As the opening chords of the first song played and Harry captivated the audience with his unmatched energy, the contractions grew stronger. You sat between Anne and Gemma, clutching your water bottle and trying to mask the pain. But Anne, ever observant, picked up on the tension in your face.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, as Harry launched into "Golden."
"I'm fine," you replied with a forced smile. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, and you certainly didn't want Anne or Gemma to panic.
But as the pain intensified and the intervals between contractions shortened, you couldn't stay seated any longer. "I... I need to step out for a moment," you said, standing before anyone could protest. Anne and Gemma exchanged concerned looks but decided to follow you.
Backstage, you leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Jeff, Harry's manager, spotted you immediately and rushed over. "What's going on?" he asked, alarmed.
"I'm in labor," you whispered, your voice shaky. "But don't tell Harry. Please, Jeff, let him finish his show."
Jeff hesitated, clearly torn, but the determination in your eyes made him relent. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "but we're keeping a close eye on you."
Meanwhile, on stage, Harry was completely in his element. Yet something felt off. He'd been glancing up at the VIP suite throughout the performance, only to notice that your seat was empty. A gnawing sense of unease crept into his mind. Between songs, he scanned the side stage and spotted Jeff, who appeared tense and deep in conversation with a crew member.
"What's going on?" Harry asked when he stepped briefly to the side before starting the next song.
"Everything's fine," Jeff replied hastily. "Just keep going."
Harry's brow furrowed in doubt, but he nodded and returned to the mic. Still, the uneasy feeling lingered.
Backstage, your contractions were becoming nearly unbearable. Anne held your hand, speaking soothingly, while Gemma kept nervously checking the time. "You have to tell him," Anne said softly. "He'll never forgive himself if he doesn't know from the start."
Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head. "No. He's worked so hard for this night. I won't ruin it for him."
Time seemed to crawl as the show progressed. Despite Harry giving his all to the fans, his mind was elsewhere, the gnawing sense of dread refusing to leave. As the final song came to an end and he bid the crowd a heartfelt farewell under thunderous applause, Jeff was already waiting for him backstage.
"What's going on?" Harry demanded sharply, his tone uncharacteristically stern.
Jeff hesitated, but he knew he couldn't hide the truth anymore. "She's backstage. She's... in labor. You need to hurry."
Harry didn't wait for more. He bolted towards the backstage area, his heart pounding. He found you there, pale and exhausted but smiling faintly, surrounded by Anne and Gemma.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked, his voice thick with worry.
"I didn't want to tell you," you began, your voice trembling. "I knew how much this night meant to you."
