Harvard Boy

Their own again.

She wakes up to a jolting pain in her side, then another. Aching and rippling, then calming, and beginning all over again.

"Daaaad!" She yells in the dead of night. "Dad!"

It was only a few breathless seconds later, that her father with sleepy eyes, and worry etched onto his features was at her side- an over abundance of panic, an uneven amount of anticipation. "What is it?!" He leaned down, no longer smelling of dank whiskey or rotten liquor, but somewhat of a musky shampoo, and fine linen. "What's wrong?!"

"Something's not right." She says breathlessly. "It hurts all over."

Her shaky hands glide over her swollen stomach. As if somehow it'd soothe the excruciating pain.

▪️▪️▪️▪️

He'd sleep a lot, sometimes in the afternoon, other times when he could. His eyes would grow heavy with regret, with her in mind. Each day blurry, each night solemn.

It took a lot to pick up the phone that day, to swallow his pride, admit his mistakes.

He'd do that for her.

He'd lay down his worst fears, try and conquer them; simply because there was a life he'd created inside of her- and it's him, but mostly her. That thought alone could change everything.

But he clutches the phone tighter, pinches his eyes close.

Focused, nervous. He hopes the phone will ring forever- that the echo would be a continuous loop of 'maybe he's busy.'

But hope runs dry, and dreams are meant for sleeping.

"Hello?" Sam's voice was deep, countering the excitement in his tone. "Harry? Is that you?"

"Just, shut up. Okay? If I'm going to do this I don't want any distractions. Your mouth alone could start a fucking war."

"Um, okay..."

Harry let out a long sigh, knowing if he was going to do this; he'd have to commit on all levels, not just as far as he wanted.

"I'm....look I'm... I'm sorry. For everything."

"Harry it's-"

"No! Let me finish."

It was a challenge, a rivalry gone to far, gone wrong.

"I forgive you." Harry sighed. "Not because I'm forgetting about what you did. Not because you're even apologizing, But, because for her, I do. For her, I'm sorry. And If....if she...." It was hard to not get choked up, hard not to feel the reality, his life. "If you talk to her... Tell her, tell her... "The crash of the shot rolled up the hills, and rolled down again."

The silence could cut through glass, a lifetime even. But they still continued breathing, listening.

"What does that mean?"

"She'll know when you tell her."

A silent tear rolled down his cheek, holding a place that's miserable and barren. Cascading, falling, into the depth of where he was.

"Don't ever think for a second, that I didn't love her. You can judge all you fucking want, but what we had was real... It was..."

"I know Harry...I know." He whispered.

This was as civil as they'd ever been. Almost like two brothers, almost like family.

Almost.

"I know you gave me the journal Sam."

"You needed to know the truth."

"But that's not why you did it."

The line went quiet. Fidgeting, tiring, and all together an emotional roller coaster. Sam replied with- "I'm sorry too."

And that was that. Far away places, broken homes, even discredited love had all been solved in the matter of seconds.

The fire has burnt out, the anger has molted into acceptance, and their lives are their own again.

"Goodbye Sam."

"Wait." He let out a groan. "Your son...He was born last night at Bellevue hospital."

{dun dun dunnnnnnn. Can I just say I find it absolutely shocking that my story has reached 35k reads. Thankyou thankyou! That is absolutely crazy. And as far as the story goes, hope everything works out for our little hazza, and his little hazza!😍 Love you all, thankyou for your patience and kindness!}