Pages Of Our Lives // Harry Styles Fanfic

Chapter 11 • We're a Family

"Good morning!" Harry bopped my nose.
"Good morning." I tossed the eggs in the pan.
"What's this?" Louis walks in with the painting I make a couple days ago.
"A bad painting."
"Are you shitting me?" Louis said. Harry looked up. It was the girl who cried gold.
"MJ, Thats amazing." He said will a full mouth of toast.
"It's bad." I assure them.
"Then can I have it?" Louis asks. They look at me.
"Yes." I said with a puzzled look.
"Ok party is this Saturday." Steph says as she gets off the phone. "Oo! What's that?" She says talking about my painting.
"Trash. It's trash." Louis walks away.
"No it's not!" Harry's phone dings and he begins to write something on the calendar.
"What's that?"
"Family dinner."
"Oh..."
"Not looking forward to it."
"With Desmond?"
"With dad." He confirmed.
"I'll go."
"You don't want to go, trust me."
"I like Anne and I like Des, Harry please. Maybe I can keep the tensions low."
"I don't know." I rubbed his forearms.
"Please?"
"Alright ok."
"Yay!"

I skipped through the store with happiness in my stride. It's mum's birthday. Even though she's gone, she's not gone from my heart. I looked at a flowers. I pick a yellow, pink, and orange one. Orange for the sunset when she passed, yellow for her favorite color and pink for breast cancer.

I went to check out and there was a large group of girls looking at cakes. They whispered when they saw me.
"Are you Mara Hansen?" One finally asked.
"I get that a lot, no sorry." Smooth Mara.
"You look just like her. I really hope she marries Harry but then again I'd rather have that hot sack of sexy." Ugh, did she just say hot sack of sexy?
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Yeah."
"They love each other so much that they don't need a paper from London that says they are in love because their bond is so strong."
"They've only been together three years. How would you know about their bond?"
"I'm Mara Jay Hansen." She didn't move. "And that's my sack of sexy for that matter." I smiled. I wasn't trying to be rude. I was just stating a point. I took my flowers after paying and left. Hot sack of sexy? Who am I?

  Dad let me in. I walked up the stairs to his apartment. It had a nice view of the London eye.
"How are you darling?"
"I'm great. Thank you dad." We walked in.
"Flowers for Mum?"
"Yes." He put them in a vase.
"David here?" I ask.
"I'm right here. What do you want?" He asks.
"Damn, rude much?"
"I have a headache, so please leave me alone."
"But it's mums birthday." Dad didn't step in. He had some news, I could tell.
"Why don't you let dad talk to you?"
"What is going on?"
"Mara." Dad told me. "I told David-"
"Some shit! That's what you told me. I thought you loved mum." He was astounded by David's words and so was I. David slumped on the couch.
"What is he talking about?"
"Dads dating." David said. My heart just dropped. It was dead. Stopped beating.
"Mara." He reached for my hand.
"Dad." I pulled back.
"I told you she would get mad. I told you." David yelled.
"Mara, I'm sick of being a widow."
"Mum is far better than other girl you're going find! Mum wouldn't have done this if you died."
"Mara!"
"How dishonorable."
"Mara Jay! I do not disrespect your mother! She is the best thing that has ever happened to me!" Dad and I were crying.
"Happy birthday mum." I muttered. I pulled my hand out of dads. My eye caught a picture of David and I ask kids.

Photo credit: Zoella and Joe Sugg.
It's funny to see my curls slip away.

And I left with a slam.

  "What's wrong?" When I walked in the door I fell to my knees. My purse contents scattered everywhere. "Mara?" Steph asked again.
"Harry!" I kept crying. Even when I was swarm by the guys. They were talking and trying to get my attention but I wouldn't hear them. I blocked them out. All I saw were they mouth moving; forming words that I couldn't hear. That's when I cried out.
"Mum!" Harry picked me up. My hands folded around his neck and my head nested in his chest. He took me to our room. I watched as everyone worried. everyone scared. Just like me. Harry kissed my forehead. This time it was different, this time it had true meaning. Not that his kisses didn't, but this time they had a spark of assurance that I was in good hands. That he was never leaving. That he loved me.