Zayn:
Zayn’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, dragging him from his light sleep. His body ached from the back-to-back shows, but when he saw the name flashing on the screen, exhaustion vanished in an instant.
His daughter never called this late unless something was wrong.
He answered immediately. "Hey, baby. Why are you up so late?"
A shaky breath. Then a weak, pained whisper: "Daddy… can you come home? "
Zayn shot upright, instantly alert. His daughter didn't call im Daddyfor years. "What’s wrong, love?
"My stomach… it’s really bad, Daddy. It won’t stop."
His chest tightened. "Okay, baby, listen to me. I need you to call an ambulance, alright? I think it might be your appendix."
"I— I don’t know if I can," she whimpered. "It hurts too much."
His heart pounded in his chest. He was thousands of miles away, and she needed him now.
"Princess, I need you to stay with me, okay? Just hold on—"
A strangled gasp. Then a faint thud.
"Sweetheart? Talk to me!"
Nothing. The call had cut off.
Zayn felt pure terror flood his veins. Hands shaking, he dialed the only person who could get to her faster than he could.
"Safaa, listen to me. Go to my house now! Something’s wrong with her—she was in pain, and now she’s not answering. I’m calling an ambulance, but you need to be there!"
He barely registered his sister’s panicked agreement before hanging up and dialing emergency services, forcing himself to stay calm enough to give them his daughter’s address.
His little girl was alone. Scared. Hurting. And he wasn’t there.
But he would be. As soon as the call ended, he was already throwing clothes into a bag, grabbing his passport with one hand, booking the first flight home with the other.
Nothing would stop him from getting to her.
Harry:
The energy backstage was electric. Crew members rushing around, the crowd chanting his name, the countdown ticking closer to showtime. Harry adjusted his in-ear monitors, rolling his shoulders, trying to focus. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He almost ignored it. He had just minutes before stepping on stage, but something told him to check. When he saw the name flashing on the screen, his stomach tightened. His daughter never called right before a show. His hands shook slightly as he answered.
"Hey, love. What’s going on?"
A muffled sob. Then, a broken whisper: "Daddy… can you come home?"
Every single noise around him faded. His body went still.
"What’s wrong? What happened?"
She sniffled, her breathing uneven. "I...I’m at the hospital. They brought me here, and I don’t know what’s wrong, and I’m scared. Mom is really sick, and I don’t want to be here without you."
His heart stopped.
"The hospital?" His voice cracked. "Why? What happened to Mom?"
"I don’t know, Daddy," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "She was really sick, and then she couldn’t breathe right, and now they keep saying all these words I don’t understand, and I just want her to be okay. Please, I need you, Dad."
