Zayn:
The hum of the tour bus was a constant backdrop as Zayn leaned against his bunk, phone in hand. The call had come through a few moments ago, and he smiled softly when he saw your name flash on the screen. But when he answered, it wasn't your voice he heard—it was the tiny, tearful voice of his daughter.
"Daddy?"
His heart clenched immediately. "Hey, princess," he said, his voice softening to the warm tone he reserved just for her. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I miss you," she sniffled, her little voice cracking.
Zayn leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady himself. "Oh, baby, I miss you too. So, so much."
There was a pause on her end, followed by the sound of her hiccuping through her tears. "Why can't you come home now?"
He closed his eyes, guilt washing over him. "I wish I could, sweetheart," he said, his throat tightening. "I'm working right now, remember? But I'll be home soon, and when I get back, we'll do something really special. Just you and me. How does that sound?"
"Like what?" she asked, her voice still wobbly but filled with a glimmer of hope.
"Hmm," Zayn mused, leaning his head against the wall. "How about we go to the park? We can bring your scooter, and I'll push you on the swings as high as you want."
"And ice cream?" she asked, her tone lifting ever so slightly.
"Of course, ice cream," he chuckled. "Every flavor you want."
There was a small giggle on the other end, and Zayn felt his heart swell. "I drew you a picture today," she said. "It's of us. And the doggie."
"Yeah?" he smiled, sitting up a little straighter. "You're such a good artist. I can't wait to see it. You'll save it for me, won't you?"
"I'll put it on the fridge!" she exclaimed, the excitement breaking through her earlier sadness.
Zayn laughed, the sound filled with warmth. "Good. That way, I'll see it as soon as I get home."
There was a pause, and then she whispered, "I love you, Daddy."
He felt his eyes sting, and he cleared his throat to keep his voice steady. "I love you too, princess. More than anything."
After a few more minutes of talking about her day, Zayn finally convinced her to let you tuck her into bed. When the call ended, he sat there for a long moment, staring at the screen. His little girl's voice echoed in his mind, and he made a silent promise to cherish every moment with her when he got home.
Harry:
Harry was sitting in his hotel room, the sound of muffled voices from the crew outside blending with the low hum of his thoughts. His phone buzzed on the table, and when he saw your name pop up, a warm smile crossed his face. But as soon as he answered, all he heard was sobbing—high-pitched, heart-wrenching sobs.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
It was your daughter, her tiny voice barely able to form the word through her cries.
Harry's chest tightened immediately. "Hey, my love," he said softly, his voice trembling just enough to betray the ache in his heart. "What's wrong, baby girl?"
But she couldn't answer. She was crying so hard that her breaths came in hiccupping gasps, her little voice breaking with each attempt to speak.
"Shhh, it's okay," Harry whispered, his own eyes stinging. "I'm here, sweetheart. Daddy's right here."
