f i f t y - s e v e n

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Zayn's recent photoshoot is soooo lit and hot, am i right ladies ?🔥🔥🔥🔥👌🏻👌🏻

Melody

"I'm sorry." I sigh, resting my forehead against Harry's door.

It's been two days, and Harry has been acting like I don't exist. And now, I finally had the courage to apologize.

"I don't know what got into me," I say. It's true. I didn't know what happened to me when I slapped him. It might have been a rush of adrenaline.

I'm never this disrespectful towards Harry. Sure, I yell at him most of the times, but I never hit him.

He never did either. He didn't have a reason to.

"Harry, please." I beg, knocking on his door again but getting nothing in return.

"I'm sorry Harry, I never mea—nt for it to happen." I calmly say, but my voice betrays me when it breaks in the midst of my sentence.

Still hearing nothing but silence, I sigh as I slide down the door of Harry's room, before bringing my knees to my chest, and leaning my head against the door.

"Maybe I was angry with you," I begin talking again, knowing that Harry is listening.

Before I continue, I hear a shuffle at the other side of the door. I then hear something hitting against the door, and it clicks that Harry may be sliding down the door as well. Maybe he wants to hear what I have to say.

"Maybe I was happy because Zayn asked me out," I sigh, a small smile tugging at my lips. "But, I was angry with you, Harry. You quitting your job made me so mad. I'm not sure if my job will give us enough money to pay the rent, to pay the bills—everything."

Still hearing nothing, my vision gets blurry when it hits me real hard, that I did slap my own brother. Who even does that?

I let out a ragged breath before shaking my head at myself, and putting my head between my knees.

To top it all over, my first date is tonight.

Three hours, to be exact.

This week has been so freaking stressful.

I genuinely did not mean to slap Harry. I just got angry with him after he's told me he quit his job. He's been acting very weird lately, and all I want from him is to tell me if he's okay. He can't blame me for worrying over him.

My head snaps upwards when I hear the sound of a click, and I quickly scramble off the floor and stand up.

Wiping away the few tears that escaped, I wait with anticipation until Harry's door creaks open.

What I see next is, Harry's face.

It's blank.

Clear.

Not a sign of any tears. But, his eyes are bloodshot, and his brows are furrowed together.

I shake my head slowly, "I'm sorry,"

Harry nods his head, sniffling. "I'm not angry with you." His voice comes out raspy. "I kind of deserved that. I didn't mean to sound that disrespectful and rude."

"No, no, Harry." I approach him. "I was the one who was disrespectful. I slapped you! That isn't something sisters should do."

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