Labels 2

15 - Back For You

The London rain sprinkles down on me, and blurs my sight for a few moments. The sky was a mess of grey clouds, and people rushed from street to street, maybe to catch a train, or to make sure that they weren't late to work.

I chuckle to myself, orrr, they don't want to be completely drenched in water before they reach their destination. I should be doing the same thing.

But I didn't care about getting wet. I was wearing a a light blue sweater... well it wasn't even light blue anymore. More of a dark blue now. I stared as people walked back and forth. Not wanting to move from my spot.

My driver is parked right next to me. I could tell that he was getting annoyed by how I was just standing there, unmoving. I didn't realize that tears were falling from my eyes until I felt them ache. I wipe them from my cheek, as the tears mixed in with the rain.

"Your highness, we must leave now, King Harry is waiting for us," my driver says. I want to ignore him. I really really want to. But he was right, Harry was waiting for me.

I don't bother to shake off the excess water as I open the car door and step inside of the car. I hear my boots squish with water when I enter and I slowly sit back against the cool leather.

The driver speeds down the road, and within minutes we are in the parking lot of Buckingham Palace. I did not want to get out of the car. It was as simple as that. Everything that had happened was my fault. I made this happen, I caused this.

More tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold them in.

I hear the car door open, and I step outside. I am immediately greeted with maids throwing towels over me. One of them takes off my shoes and socks when I get inside.

I take my time walking up to Harry's office, my baby bump, now a thousand times bigger. I wished I wasn't having this baby. It seemed like everything went wrong after it came into my life.

I wished I never moved to California, that I had just ignored Harry, that I wasn't a whiny baby about my AP classes. None of this would be happening. I would be in University by now, probably studying with Zayn. With no baby, we would be a couple.

Everything would be super chill. I would visit my mom on the weekends, introduce her to Zayn, we could both go on vacation with no worries. People would not be following me around, smartphones in hand. I would be Paris Hansen, not Queen Paris, or "your highness."

These thoughts continue to intrude my brain, as I think of what could have been if I had just let Harry leave, if I had just let him marry Dasnia. I was sure my life would be miserable without him. But I'm miserable with him, so why not choose the one where I'm not always under speculation?

Zayn never yelled, he was a warm kind soul, who forgave easily, and had a sort of charisma that was hard to come by. He was always super chill, his voice like honey. There were never any issues with Zayn.

I remember the first time I met him. Harry's jealousy was humorous to me then, but now it made me uncomfortable.

I reach Harry's office and open the door. He isn't sitting at his desk. He's seated against the windowsill. A smoke in one hand, and a lighter in the other. I could see that his eyes were dry, and their usual color. I didn't expect them to be like that at all.

I shut the door behind me, remembering the last time that I was here. I was shutting the door to leave, after he had kicked me out. The memory makes me want to leave.

Harry jumps a little, but turns to face me. He's wearing a white button up dress shirt, dark dress pants, and black dress shoes. Two of the buttons of his shirt are undone, and his shirt is loosely tucked into his pants as if someone quickly put them back in with no effort at all.