Styles Towers.

I want to write you a song.

Author's Note: Hey, hey!! Here is part 7. This is more of a fluffy type of chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think.

Rated M for Mature audiences.

August 2nd, 2021.

|| Harry. ||

To say my life took a twist of events would be an understatement, it feels as though ever since my accident— that wasn't an accident— my life has been a surge of unfortunate events. Pun intended. I feel as though everything came crumbling down at once. That age-old saying, "when it rains, it pours" has never been more accurate. Though "pours" is a bit of an understatement. It's more like a torrential downfall accompanied by lightning, thunder, and high winds that quite literally destroy you to your core.

I don't know why things are converting to hell for me, everything just appears to be declining at an accelerated pace, and every time I think things are becoming ampler, something else takes a turn for the worst. When I woke up this morning, I knew the day wasn't going to be comfortable— my first day primarily exiled from my own damn company. I haven't had the heart to tell Elise. I don't know how to tell her let alone what to say.

It's a little difficult to explain to her that the board of Directors want me to go on administrative leave while they do an audit on the business. The downfall in the stocks appear to have been more than I could carry, none of my plans and extensive knowledge could have prepared me for any of this. There is a chance I will have to appoint an interim CEO to run MY business while the board make up their mind on what the fuck they want to do. Apparently, my business isn't just mine, but also theirs to determine the success of.

If my company concerns aren't enough, my constant flashbacks and dreams are haunting me and not showing me any remorse. Lying in bed has become something that I no longer appreciate. I continually wake up from dreams and flashbacks, it is at a point where I am barely in bed anymore. Elise has woken up a few times and woken me from the nightmares. I have had to reassure her that I am fine and to go to sleep, but the truth is— I am not fine. They are torturous.

I woke up this morning with a memory well printed into my thoughts, a recollection I had been striving to recover and piece together. I am very well aware the events leading to my accident and after my accident was not all coincidental. It was Charles, he was one of the three men who were there, it was he who lifted me from the car and left me on the cold ground, he thought I was Logan... It was he who took off my wedding ring and launched it to the ground like it was nothing.

I discover myself sitting at the piano. Part of me wants to play the keys with the grace I acquired when I was younger, the other part of me wanting to hammer my fingers against each key with such force that it shatters the whole damn thing to pieces.

Without my permission, my fingers start dancing across the keys with a grace that feels all too familiar. A melody that I perpetually discover myself playing when I need to calm down and unwind, it settles me to the core. As my fingers continue playing, I can't stop wrestling with the thoughts in my head about which is worse; the fact that I have no idea what to do with myself now that I'm not allowed near my business or the fact that I'm still struggling with my physical therapy.

Sometimes they feel equally as bad.

There are days I struggle with basic elements, then there are days I can run around the block without an issue. I am a working progress. Recently I have grown accustomed to worrying about whether or not I will be adequate enough to raise a child. I can't help but wonder if I will be a lot better by the time the baby arrives. One of my worst fears is not being able to hold he or she or not being able to chase he or she around the garden.