Harry:
The sterile hospital corridor stretched endlessly, the cold white walls closing in on Harry as he sat, hunched forward, in the unforgiving chair. His elbows dug into his knees, his trembling hands buried in his curls as he stared at the ground, his tears pooling below. His entire world had been ripped from him in a matter of minutes, leaving him with nothing but silence and fear.
You were still in surgery. They hadn't let him see you, hadn't told him much other than "We're doing everything we can." The words rang in his ears like a death knell. He didn't know if you were okay. And then there was his son—the tiny baby who had been brought into this world too soon, too fragile, and was now hooked up to machines in the NICU.
Harry felt his heart breaking, piece by piece, under the weight of it all. His baby boy—his firstborn—was fighting for his life just a few feet away, and Harry didn't know how to protect him.
"Harry." His mum's soft voice broke through the haze, and he turned to her, his bloodshot eyes brimming with tears.
"I can't do this, Mum," he choked out, his voice a whisper filled with pain. "I can't lose them both. I—what if he doesn't make it? What if she..." His voice broke, and he let out a strangled sob.
Anne knelt in front of him, taking his shaking hands in hers. She hadn't seen him like this since he was a boy, but this was different—this was agony, and her heart ached for him.
"Harry, listen to me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Your boy is a fighter, just like his dad. And so is she. They're not giving up, and neither can you. Do you hear me?"
He nodded weakly, his throat too tight to speak. His mum's hands squeezed his, grounding him, but the moment was shattered when the door to the NICU opened.
"Mr. Styles?"
Harry shot to his feet so quickly the chair scraped loudly against the floor. His legs felt like jelly as he turned to the nurse, his voice barely a whisper. "Is... is he okay? And my wife? Please—"
The nurse's expression softened. "Your son is stable for now. He's small, but he's strong. We've got him on oxygen, and his vitals are improving. He'll need time and care, but he's fighting."
The relief that flooded Harry was so overwhelming his knees buckled, and Anne caught him as he let out a broken sob. "Oh, thank God," he whispered, clutching his chest as tears streamed down his face.
"And your wife..." The nurse hesitated, and Harry's heart seized again.
"What about her?" His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
"She's still in surgery, but they're optimistic. She lost a lot of blood, but the doctors are doing everything they can."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard as he wiped his face with trembling hands. There was hope.
"Can I... can I see him?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.
The nurse smiled gently. "Of course. Come with me."
Anne placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, letting him go as he followed the nurse into the NICU. The sound of machines filled the air, the quiet hum of beeping monitors grounding him as he approached the incubator where his baby lay.
Harry's breath hitched as he looked down at his son for the first time. He was so small, his tiny chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his delicate body surrounded by wires and tubes. Tears spilled down Harry's cheeks as he placed a trembling hand on the glass.
"Hi, mate," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me, your dad. You've had a rough start, huh? But you're strong—I know you are. You've got to keep fighting, okay? Because... because I need you. Your mum needs you. We love you so much already."
