Unlikely (H.S.)

thirty-four

~Harper~

I stared at the clock on my phone, the seconds ticking away faster than I could comprehend. Forty minutes. That was all I had left. Forty minutes to gather my things, to figure out where the hell I was going, to somehow make sense of how everything had imploded in a matter of hours.

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but it was no use. The air felt thick, unbreathable, like someone had stolen all the oxygen from the room.

"Get out, Harper."

His voice echoed in my mind, the words laced with anger and something worse—something final.

I couldn't stop shaking. My hands trembled as I shoved clothes into my bag, not even caring if they were folded. My vision blurred with tears, and I had to blink furiously just to see what I was doing.

"You have an hour."

The clock now read thirty-nine minutes.

I perched upon the edge of the bed, my breath hitching as the panic clawed its way deeper into my chest. I couldn't do this. I couldn't leave him—not like this. Not when I didn't even understand how it had gotten this bad.

I hadn't posted the video. I hadn't done anything to hurt him. But none of that mattered, because in Harry's eyes, I had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

And he wanted me gone.

I buried my face in my hands, the sobs coming hard and fast now. My mind raced, replaying every moment of the argument, every word he'd said.

"This isn't just a mistake, Harper. It's a choice you made."

I hadn't made a choice. I hadn't done this.

But how could I make him believe me when the evidence was staring him in the face?

I stood up abruptly, pacing the room as the panic reached a fever pitch. My heart pounded in my chest, so loud it drowned out every rational thought.

Where would I go?

What would I do?

I didn't know London.

I didn't have a backup plan, didn't have anyone to call.

I couldn't leave.

But I had to.

I clutched at my chest, trying to steady my breathing, but the fear only grew. I thought of Harry downstairs, pacing his kitchen—or worse, sitting there in silence, his face etched with anger and hurt. I thought of the look in his eyes when he'd told me to leave.

"I can't trust you anymore."

The words shattered something inside me all over again.

He didn't trust me.

He thought I had done this to him—

To us...

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Texts and missed calls filled the screen.

Amalia: Harper, call me.

Please.

Nate: Holy fucking shit.

Are you okay?

Daphne: What the hell is going on?

Did you see what TMZ just posted?