unlike her // h.s [Completed]

XXXVI

E.

A week went by of Harry comforting me. A week went by without my baby. A week went by of confusion, sadness, and hatred.

"Hey Harry?" I stop him from going upstairs to fold his laundry. He turns to me with a gentle smile.

"Yes?" He asks and steps down a few stairs to get to me.

"You got a call." I place his phone in his hand. He looks down at his phone and hops down the rest of the stairs to get to the living room.

He dials in a number and presses the phone against his ear. After a few seconds, he speaks up.

"Yes?" He murmurs into the receiver. "I'm ready. Next week? Ok. I've got this."

Harry hangs up the phone and turns to me. "Who was it?" I pipe. He sits down at one of the stools in the kitchen.

"My manager." He replies, leaning his head on his hand which is propped up by his elbow. "He's making sure I'm prepared for my performance."

"What performance?" I inquire and make my way over to him.

"Madison Square Garden. On the 12th." He informs me and scrunches his brows. "I didn't tell you?"

I shake my head no. "That's amazing though, Harry. Madison Square Garden is a real accomplishment."

Harry shrugs. "I've performed there with One Direction. Nothing new." He winks.

I shove his shoulder. "You're so humble." I say sarcastically.

"Mhm." He hums and presses his forehead against mine. "You are so adorable."

His lips gently press against mine in a swift motion. He pulls back and kisses my forehead before standing back up. My stomach twirls. "I'm gonna go fold my clothes. I'll be back down in a sec." He kisses my forehead once more before rushing up the steps.

"Mkay." I say softly and head to the bathroom behind the stairs. Once I get inside, I make my way to the toilet. When I step on the mat in front of the toilet, there is a sharp pain in both of my feet.

I squeal and hop away from the rug. I drop to the tiled floor and inspect my feet. There are tiny shards of glass stuck in the skin on the bottom of my feet. I hiss when I touch my foot.

In questioning, I continue to pull tiny shards out and throw them in the bin beside the toilet. Once I've gotten them all out, I take a wash cloth from the bottom of the skin. I get it damp in the sink and lightly press it against one foot. I bend over and inspect the mat, seeing tiny shards of clear glass scattered across the fabric of the rug.

There's a light knock on the bathroom door. "You almost done?" Harry's voice rings.

"Actually, come in please." I quaver. Harry pushes the door open and spots me on the floor, pressing a rag against my bloody feet. "Did you break something in here?"

Harry drops to my side and takes the rag from my hand. His eyes trail my feet. "No. What the fuck happened?" He curses and places the rag against my feet.

"There's...I don't really know how," I pause and turn to the mat. "There's glass shards in the mat."

"What?" He huffs and bends over me to see the rug. "How the hell..." his voice is hushed. He sits back down and looks at me with sincere eyes. "Do you have any alcohol rub?"

"Uh, yeah. In the mirror cabinet." I point to the cabinet above.

Harry gets to his feet, grabs the peroxide, and sits back down. He takes the cloth from my foot and gets some of the rubbing alcohol on it. He is gentle as he cleans my wounds. I hiss in pain but take it, knowing it'll make me better.

"It's just so weird..." He mumbles. "How can this even happen?"

"Things aren't right, Harry. Something is going on." I chew the inside of my lip.

"I'll help you as much as I can." He promises, taking my hand in his. "First Bean and now this..." He says quietly, almost to himself. "Things aren't adding up here."

xxx

This story sucks tbh.